Should I Stay or Should I Go? What an Iceland Glacier Taught Me About Walking Away
Sometimes the hardest part of walking away is not just knowing something isn’t right. It’s giving yourself permission to leave.
I recently traveled to Iceland, where I signed up for what was described as a relatively easy glacier hike, suitable for people with a basic fitness level. It sounded like an incredible adventure. A chance to explore a glacier, experience Iceland’s breathtaking landscape, and push myself a little outside my comfort zone.
I did my homework. I read the description, asked questions, spoke with the guide, paid for the excursion, and signed the waivers. I even geared up with crampons, an ice axe, a helmet, and a climbing harness.
I was ready. Or so I thought.
But as I stood there, fully equipped and preparing to begin, I started asking a few more questions and looking at the distance between me and the glacier. With each answer, I became increasingly uncomfortable. Panicked actually.
This wasn’t exactly the leisurely glacier hike I had imagined.
It was a seven-kilometer trek involving steep, rocky, muddy, and slippery terrain, narrow paths, deep icy crevasses, and a challenging climb back up and out an ice wall. Four hours of strenuous physical activity on unfamiliar and potentially dangerous terrain.
Wait. What?
This was not what I thought I had signed up for. Just like that, I suddenly found myself facing a decision that felt surprisingly familiar.
Should I stay or should I go?
When What You Signed Up For Isn’t What You Expected
I stood there wrestling with myself. Part of me wanted to go for it. I had come all this way. I had paid for the experience. I had prepared, committed, and was already dressed for the adventure. Everyone else seemed ready to go. Would I regret missing out? Was I being overly cautious? Was I letting fear get the best of me? Shouldn’t I just push myself and do it?
But another part of me was saying something very different. This doesn’t feel right. This is more than you expected. You may be getting yourself into something you aren’t physically prepared to handle. You could really get hurt.
I was embarrassed to back out. Ashamed to admit that I didn’t want to continue. Afraid of looking weak or incapable. I was also genuinely terrified of what might happen if I went ahead.
I stood there weighing my options, and I realized how closely this moment mirrored a much bigger decision I had faced years earlier.
The decision to end my 23-year marriage.
Marriage Doesn’t Always Turn Out as Advertised Either
When I got married, I had expectations. Hopes. Dreams. A vision of what my life and marriage would look like. I made a commitment. I believed in that commitment. I invested years of my life in it, built a family, and imagined a future together. But somewhere along the way, the marriage I was living was no longer the marriage I had imagined.
Much like that glacier hike, what I had signed up for and what I was actually experiencing were two very different things. Just like standing at the foot of that glacier, I remember wrestling with the same questions.
Should I stay? Should I go? Am I giving up too easily? What if I regret leaving? What if I can’t handle what comes next? What will other people think?
There was fear. Shame. Guilt. Uncertainty. That overwhelming weight of a commitment I had made years earlier.
Walking away from a marriage isn’t as simple as deciding not to take a hike. There are children, finances, shared histories, responsibilities, and lives intertwined in complicated ways. There are also feelings of love, loyalty, hope, and grief.
Sometimes you stay because you genuinely believe things can get better. Sometimes you stay because you’re afraid of what leaving might mean. Sometimes you stay because you’ve convinced yourself that leaving would mean you failed.
I know that feeling.
The Difference Between Pushing Yourself and Pushing Too Far
I’ve always believed there is value in challenging ourselves. Growth often requires discomfort, courage, and a willingness to do things that scare us. I even have a wooden sign in my office that says, “Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.”
I’ve also learned that there is a difference between being uncomfortable because you’re growing and being uncomfortable because something isn’t right for you. Not every difficult situation is an opportunity to prove how strong you are. Often the stronger decision is recognizing your limitations, acknowledging your reality, and choosing a different path.
On that glacier, I could have ignored my instincts. I could have pushed through my fear, followed everyone else, and hoped for the best.
Maybe I would have completed the hike. Maybe I would have been fine. But maybe I wouldn’t have. The point wasn’t whether I was physically capable of finishing. It was that I had learned new information, reassessed the situation, and realized that continuing wasn’t the right choice for me. I didn’t need to put myself at risk just to prove that I could do it.
The same can be true in marriage.
There is a difference between working through challenges in a relationship and continuing to endure a situation that is consistently damaging your emotional well-being. Only you can begin to determine where that line is for you.
Walking Away Isn’t Always Giving Up
In the end, I didn’t do the glacier hike. I took off the crampons, handed back the ice axe, removed my helmet and harness, and walked away.
Was I disappointed? Absolutely.
Was I embarrassed? A little.
But was I relieved? Without question.
I had listened to myself.
I trusted my judgment, even though it meant changing my plans, disappointing myself, and possibly being judged by others.
What struck me most was I didn’t need to wait until I was halfway across the glacier, exhausted or in danger, to decide I shouldn’t be there. I was allowed to change my mind before things got worse. That lesson took me much longer to learn in my marriage.
After 23 years, I eventually made the decision to walk away from something I had once wholeheartedly believed in. It wasn’t easy and wasn’t without fear, grief, or consequences. It certainly wasn’t the ending I had imagined when I said, “I do.” However it was the decision I came to believe was right for me. While I couldn’t know exactly what my future would look like, I had to trust that I could find my way forward.
So, Should You Stay or Should You Go?
As a divorce coach, I work with people who are struggling with this very question. I never tell someone whether they should stay in their marriage or leave it.That decision is deeply personal, and there is no one-size-fits-all answer.
I do encourage people to get curious about what is keeping them where they are.
Are you staying because you genuinely want to work on your marriage and believe meaningful change is possible?
Are you staying because you’re afraid of leaving?
Are you making a decision based on what you know to be true today, or holding on to what you hoped your marriage would become?
Are you listening to your own needs, values, and instincts, or are you allowing guilt, shame, fear, and other people’s expectations to make the decision for you?
Sometimes the right choice is to stay and work toward something better. Sometimes it’s to leave and begin again. Sometimes before making either decision, you need time, information, perspective, and support.
The goal isn’t to make the fastest decision. It’s to make a decision you can trust yourself to live with.
Trust Yourself Enough to Choose Your Own Path
I went to Iceland expecting to climb a glacier. Instead, I walked away with a different kind of experience.
A reminder that commitment doesn’t mean ignoring new information. Courage doesn’t always mean pushing forward. And quitting isn’t necessarily failing.
Courage can look like taking the next step. It can also look like turning around. Perhaps the bravest thing you can do is acknowledge that the path you’re on isn’t the path you want to continue traveling.
You are allowed to trust yourself.
If you’re struggling with whether to stay in your marriage or leave, you don’t have to figure it all out alone. As a Licensed Professional Counselor, Certified Divorce Coach and Mediation Preparation Specialist, I help people work through the fear, uncertainty, and difficult decisions that come with major life transitions.
Divorce is hard. I can help.
This article was originally published here.
Please note that the blogpost above does not represent the thoughts or opinions of Fresh Start Registry and solely represents the original author’s perspective.