• My wife and I got married earlier this year, and planning the wedding was stressful.
• Leading up to the holiday season, I felt pressure to make our first Christmas together special.
• After talking to her, I realized that just creating memories together was enough.

After a stressful year of planning our perfect September wedding, I wasn't prepared to face additional pressure now that the holidays are approaching. This wasn't an ordinary Christmas filled with relaxation, eggnog, and just a sprinkle of family drama; this was the Christmas that would mark our first milestone as a married couple and set the tone for years to come.

During our first year planning the holidays as a married couple, we learned that navigating the season as a twosome is more stressful than we thought. Whose side of the family will we see? What traditions do we want to create or partake in? There were so many choices to make, and people pulling us in different directions, even with good intentions. Since we'd only get one shot at our first Christmas as a married couple, I worried that if we didn't create the perfect holiday, we would ruin this special moment.

I felt pressure to make our first Christmas together special

We live in New York City, and when we decided that visiting my family in Texas was too far this year (weddings are expensive!), we offered to host my wife's family, who were only a few-hour drive away. Foregoing travel would mitigate some of the holiday stress. However, marrying into a big family like I did, I was still worried our celebration as a newlywed couple would get lost in the holiday chaos. This is without any fault to my amazing new family; it simply can't be helped.

Many of their family traditions are also different from my own. For example, they like to celebrate on Christmas Day, while I love the magic of a sparkling Christmas Eve. I can still bring traditions to their family, like decorating gingerbread houses, which I've done every year. Part of the original excitement toward the holiday was thinking about all the family traditions we would create together.

It took me a long time to voice my concerns to my wife, worried I was overthinking it or wanting too much attention to still be on us. After all, we got married four months ago. However, my fears ended up being unfounded because, like the loving wife she is, Taryn listened and asked me what would make our holiday feel special. The truth was, I didn't know. Though I had all these expectations that this Christmas was supposed to feel different, I had no idea how to make that happen.

I had to get real with myself and understand that, just like when planning a wedding, putting too much pressure on yourself is the fastest way to steal the joy out of the process. Letting go of the idea of making things perfect allows me to focus on what truly matters: creating memories with my wife.

My wife and I decided to focus on creating memories together

So how do you go about making a newlywed Christmas as memorable as possible? We started with Christmas cards. Since we had a small wedding, not everyone in our life got to celebrate with us. Sending out Christmas cards we made together to those who are important to us helped us share our love — and our wedding photos. Speaking of wedding photos, there's no better Christmas gift for our family than a photo album to remember the special day.

We got an ornament with our wedding date on it for the tree, started planning out a festive dinner for our family, and, most importantly, we decided to prioritize spending time together. Little things like these helped me reclaim the excitement of our first Christmas. I realized I didn't have to put pressure on myself — or my wife — to do big things each day to have a special holiday season. We could do simple things, like share quiet moments or cook new holiday dishes as a couple.

I'm most excited to wake up on Christmas and have a private gift exchange (and not just because I love presents). Seeing Taryn open her gift will bring me irreplaceable joy, which I'm excited to share with her as a married couple. We made our mission simple: pick out a new winter scarf we think the other will love.

Our Christmas as newlyweds won't be the only one we spend together, no matter how special it feels. Romanticizing our first holiday was great in theory until it became a pressure cooker for perfection — decidedly unromantic. But in the process of reframing my mindset, I found that there was still magic and romance for the taking.

• Early on in our marriage, my husband and I decided to split the house chores evenly.
• He takes care of all the outdoor chores while I focus on the inside ones.
• We are more than happy to help each other out, but we have the final say over our domains.

Very early on in our marriage, my spouse coined the phrase "Outside mine, inside yours."

It has been our guiding principle. The saying meant he took care of all the outdoor work, and I handled all the indoor chores.

In other words, I could decorate however I wanted, and he didn't want any gruff about how short he was cutting the grass.

This mantra has worked for us for 10 years, and I think it's the key to happiness in marriage.

We separate our chores evenly

My husband tills the garden, plants, and schedules watering. He also cleans the chicken coop and fills their food and water containers. He chops wood, mows, mulches leaves, and does anything else that needs to be done. In winter, that includes salting and shoveling snow.

The "outside" part of our mantra also includes vehicle and camper maintenance.

We were gifted an antique metal set of monkey bars that he'll soon install in the backyard. Between that and his garage projects, it's more than enough to keep him busy. Our two young boys also enjoy helping with the outdoor chores.

As the trio tromps happily outside, I fold laundry and scrub dishes in peace — usually with an audiobook playing in my ear.

It helps us take ownership of our domains

We will ask for the other's opinion about a planned project, but ultimately, we have the final say in our own areas.

For example, we had a small rustic fence that my husband wanted to remove. I wanted to paint it and decorate it with antiques, but because the task was technically in his domain, he ultimately decided to remove it. I stepped back and let him handle it.

Indoors, I have often rearranged and ordered rugs, chair covers, etc., and he lets me without comment.

But we also help each other out when needed

Just because the indoors is my lane doesn't mean he's immune to inside tasks — or vice versa. I'm regularly asked to feed pets or help with the birds. Meanwhile, my husband helps with laundry and often cleans the bathroom.

Our arrangement is less about "I'm only doing this" and more about "You are the manager of this area." It removes the mental workload from the other's list and allows us to focus on one area. While I don't mind helping in the duck pond, it's nice that I don't have to remember when it needs to be done. In the same way, I'll often ask if he can clean the counters or fold the towels because it's on my list of what needs to be completed and not his.

My more flexible work schedule also affects what chores I complete and when. As I'm home more, it's simply easier for me to run laundry. However, he folds and puts his own away.

Winter also means fewer outside chores that need to be completed. Meanwhile, with four of us helping inside, the indoor workload is lowered for all.

This division helps us stay united

We end up with a fairly even set of tasks that also highlight our individual skills. By dividing and conquering the mental load of outdoor vs. indoor chores, we're able to get everything done with less stress and planning in advance.

It also shows our sons that gender-specific chores don't exist; it's about working as a team and putting your abilities where you're most talented. To really send this home, we rotate the chores that they are in charge of completing, whether it be putting dishes away, vacuuming, stacking wood, sorting laundry, or cleaning the garage. We focus on the fact that we all live under one roof, and a part of that is helping take care of the space, whether it's inside or out.

This setup helps my husband and I avoid arguments about one doing more work than the other. In this way, we are a team and happier for it.

• Durelle and Samantha Bailey reframed how they set their New Year's resolutions.
• They hold an annual end-of-year meeting to workshop their goals together.
• They add them to a spreadsheet with deadlines and check in every week.

Durelle and Samantha Bailey used to struggle with accomplishing their New Year's resolutions.

Durelle, 30, told Business Insider that the married couple's goals felt too broad and left room for procrastination. Plus, having separate goals sometimes meant they weren't on the same page. While Durelle identifies as a saver, Samantha prioritizes spending money on travel.

Their careers inspired them to rethink how they set goals. Durelle, who is in the US Air Force, and Samantha, 30, who works as a recruitment marketing manager, saw how bigger organizations planned ahead with consistent cross-team meetings.

They realized that just like a corporation has multiple departments, their lives were also divided into categories like finance, travel, home, and professional advancement.

They held their first annual meeting in 2019, and have been hosting them every December since.

Durelle described it as a "game-changer." This year, they were able to hit their financial goal of collectively saving six figures. They also traveled more than they originally budgeted for, taking their dream trips to Greece, Switzerland, Italy, Nova Scotia, and Mexico while squeezing in smaller vacations.

They credit their end-of-year meetings. "Over the years, we've learned how to do them better," Durelle said.

They book a meeting room

The Baileys, who live in Washington, DC, always book a meeting room in a coworking space. It helps them get away from distractions at home, like their dogs. "It really locks us into what we're doing," Durelle said.

They each think of their goals a few weeks prior to the meeting. "We'll both take time to individually reflect on, 'Ok, what held us back this year? Were there some goals we didn't accomplish, and why?'" Samantha said.

Then they use the whiteboard to "brain dump everything we want out of the year ahead," she said, splitting the board into columns for different themes like "home" and "finance."

They bounce ideas off each other

As they share their ideas, they discuss them with each other before committing to real goals. Some goals need to be more specific, and others might not be feasible for the year ahead.

Because they know each other so well, they can tell when the other person is setting a benchmark that's too high. Samantha gave the example of Durelle aspiring to read three times as many books as he had the past year. "We've learned to be realistic so that you don't set yourself up to be discouraged," she said.

It also helps them work through goals that might clash, like simultaneously saving money and spending it on travel.

Sitting down and looking at the bigger picture helps them prioritize where their money goes, allowing them to strike a balance.

Once they've decided on their goals, they transfer them to a shared spreadsheet with deadlines (such as a month or within a quarter) per goal. They also include drop-down options for status updates, like "in progress" and "completed." It helps them stay accountable.

The couple blocks off dates and locations they want to travel to in advance, so they can budget and properly schedule time off for vacations.

"Being more specific about it has helped make them a reality," Durelle said.

They check in throughout the year

In addition to the spreadsheet, the couple hosts "life meetings" every week in their home to check in on their progress. They use the time to update the spreadsheet and talk through any obstacles. They also hold larger monthly meetings "just to kind of continue strategizing and making sure we're on track," Samantha said.

While it requires effort and consistency, the couple enjoys the sessions. "Just have fun with it — it's not meant to be stressful," Durelle said. The point is to find more direction for the year.

The couple says the routine meetings have helped them grow in their marriage. The Baileys were married at 22 and lived "paycheck to paycheck," Samantha said.

"This has really taught us to be intentional about our lives," she said. "When you have a plan and you're realistic about your goals, you can achieve them."

• Over 2,000 older Americans and counting have shared their financial and other regrets with BI.
• Some experienced financial distress after losing their spouses to illness or accidents.
• This is part of an ongoing series about older Americans' regrets.

Karen Lauer's husband died without a will. On top of the grief of losing the person she loved, Lauer's finances were thrown into chaos.

She's one of many older widows and widowers who have shared their stories with Business Insider in recent months. They're among the more than 2,000 Americans who've responded to a reader survey about their life regrets. This story is part of an ongoing series.

Some widows told BI they lost substantial amounts of their household income or were thrust into complex legal battles for their spouse's assets.

Others regret not outlining a will, skipping a life-insurance policy, or not building savings before their spouse's death: "Having been widowed twice and left with three girls to raise alone, I wish I would've saved money for my retirement years," one survey respondent wrote.

"I hate living without my husband — I needed to prepare for widowhood while making the most of our last years together," another said.

For Lauer, sorting through the pieces of her husband's estate has been painful.

"Because we didn't have a will, I feel like I'm going through a divorce between my dead husband and myself," Lauer said.

We want to hear from you. Are you an older American with any life regrets you'd be comfortable sharing with a reporter? Please fill out this quick form.

How losing a partner can take a painful financial toll

Lauer, 64, smiles thinking about the man nicknamed "Cowboy Steve." She pictures him cantering on his horse at their ranch in western Nebraska, gathering a thin layer of dust on his leather boots.

Her husband died following an accident last year. Without a will, she said the local court told her that all of her husband's money and assets would go into probate, a legal process used to divide a deceased person's estate, typically among their blood relatives. Lauer said because the ranch was in Steve's name, not hers, she was required to move off the ranch during the process so the house could be sold. She said she's now experiencing homelessness.

She's house-sitting for a friend in Lincoln, Nebraska, but doesn't know where she'll live next. With limited savings of her own, Lauer said she's surviving on less than $2,000 in monthly Social Security payments. She said it's not enough to cover essentials or rent her own apartment.

Lauer's financial experience mirrors that of others. In fact, on average, widows have lower 401(k) balances, less savings, and a more limited monthly retirement income than married retirees, BI found in an analysis of individual-level data from the Census Bureau's 2023 Survey of Income and Program Participation.

The average monthly income of widowed retirees is higher than that of divorced retirees and retirees who never married. But at an average of $2,381 monthly, their income is still several hundred dollars lower than that of married retirees with a surviving spouse. The analysis looked at retirees' income from pensions, Social Security, retirement accounts, or insurance benefits.

Doug Ornstein, the director of wealth management at TIAA, told BI that losing a spouse could have "devastating" financial impacts.

"If the person who handled most of the money passes away unexpectedly or early, the surviving spouse might not have financial literacy," he said. "Or maybe the couple undersaved for retirement — that person has to figure it out themselves."

A report published in June by the financial firm Thrivent found that less than half of widowed women feel prepared to manage their finances after a spouse's death. Twenty-nine percent of women surveyed said they created a will with their spouse, while 41% said they had no financial plan before their spouse's death. The firm surveyed a national sample of 422 female widows in May 2024.

Lauer wishes her "marriage license came with instructions," she said. Steve died unexpectedly, and Lauer said she didn't have enough knowledge about the probate and asset-division process, or how it would affect her livelihood as the surviving spouse. She advises other married people to write a will and make a financial plan as soon as possible.

How to protect your finances if your spouse dies

Ornstein said there are a few key ways that Americans can financially protect themselves if their spouse dies.

The first step is creating a will and having regular conversations about finances as a couple. A life-insurance policy — which people can buy or opt in to through their employer — can provide further financial security to a deceased person's family after their death. Typically, people pay a regular premium for the insurance throughout their career and can name a spouse or children as their beneficiaries.

Ornstein told BI that widows and widowers should work with an estate-planning attorney, financial advisor, and tax professional directly after their spouse dies. He added that, when preparing for those meetings, it's best to collect as many legal and financial documents as possible: a death certificate, a marriage license, bank statements, tax returns, benefits paperwork, insurance policies, and a will.

With an attorney and financial advisor, widows and widowers should apply — or reapply — for benefits such as Social Security and pensions, Ornstein said. They may be entitled to spousal benefits or higher monthly government aid. He added that a surviving spouse would likely have to transfer ownership of assets like a house, credit card, retirement account, or loan to themself or another family member.

"Take things one step at a time," he said in a follow-up email. "It's normal to feel stressed, overwhelmed, and anxious in this situation."

Still, not all widows or widowers have regrets about their money habits, even if they're in a precarious financial position.

Looking back on his 48 years of marriage, Robert Berkeley feels good about how he spent his money. He and his wife, Lourdes, spent decades traveling, dining at their favorite restaurants, and hosting big family holiday gatherings in their eastern North Carolina home. After their respective careers as an intelligence analyst and a dental hygienist, the couple decided to retire in their 60s — living largely on their monthly Social Security checks and the few thousand dollars they had saved.

Twelve years later, in 2022, Lourdes was diagnosed with cancer. The disease was aggressive, and she died within a couple of months.

Now 78, Berkeley is struggling to make ends meet. He and his wife didn't have a life-insurance policy or robust savings. He said it's been difficult to afford housing, utilities, groceries, and transportation without two Social Security incomes. Berkeley receives a $1,650 monthly payment, but he's in debt and behind on bills. He's hoping the part-time security guard job he landed recently will help fill the gaps.

Despite his limited budget, Berkeley feels at peace with past spending habits: "We decided to live our life in our 30s, 40s, 50s, 60s, right up to hitting our early 70s," he said. "We weren't the kind to squirrel money away for something that might happen in the future."

The couple lived — and spent — in the moment, he said. He may not have much wealth left as he ages, but Berkeley said it's worth it for the years he had and the memories he made with his "darling wife."

Are you struggling with finances after losing a spouse? Are you open to sharing your experience with a reporter? If so, reach out to [email protected].

• I was thrown from a horse and left with multiple broken bones, and my husband became my caretaker.
• My recovery was difficult, and he had to help me eat, dress, and bathe.
• While it could have put a strain on our relationship, it actually brought us closer together.

When I envisioned my life with my husband, I thought I'd be well into my 80s before I'd need him cutting my food and helping me shower. I had an unwelcome glimpse into my old age when I was in an accident in May while riding a horse that left me with multiple broken bones and unable to walk.

When the accident happened, he was in Canada visiting his family. Upon waking from surgery, the first thing I croaked was to ask where he was. I wanted him for comfort; I had no idea how crucial his presence would be to my recovery.

My husband worked hard to take care of me while I recovered

After getting on the first flight he could once the extent of my injuries was apparent, he arrived back in South Africa, where we live. He stood there in the hospital ward, waiting for visiting hours to officially open, and would only leave my side when the nurses kicked him out. He'd then go home, working until midnight to catch up on the work he'd missed during the day when he was visiting me. He kept our financial burdens light while I was unable to work at all, my right arm rendered useless for months — not an ideal situation when you're a writer.

If he hadn't proved himself such a wonderful caretaker, I wouldn't have been discharged as early as I was, just one week after surgery. Upon returning home, he took over everything: ensuring everything we ate was one-hand friendly, cutting food into bite-size pieces, cleaning my wound dressings, helping me wash and dress, easing me into chairs, and taking me back to the hospital every few days for scans and blood tests.

My recovery was difficult, but it brought us closer together

While he cared for me physically, the way he tended to my mental health became even more important. The trauma of being thrown at top speed from a galloping horse (when I am not a rider) was severe. I oscillated between relief that I didn't die, a sentiment repeated by every nurse and doctor who expressed disbelief that I survived without permanent paralysis, and utter frustration at my slow recovery. I wanted to be well again quickly, and my body wasn't playing ball.

He cheered on every minor improvement, whether it was the first day I could hold a cup of water, move my arm, or take a step unaided. He kept cheering me on as I regained most of my abilities, taking hours to walk a couple of yards but getting faster every week. It was easy to berate myself, getting angry when I had a day that, at first glance, appeared to be a regression. He kept my spirits up as best he could, tending to the scars both physically and emotionally.

It would be easy for something like this to strain a relationship, but it made us even stronger. I tend to prize my independence, so this was a huge test for me: relying on someone else, someone I loved, for the simplest of tasks. It was an equally huge test for him, being called on to become a caretaker decades before either of us anticipated anything like this.

When we started dating, I remember sitting with him on a balcony, watching the crashing waves, chatting into the early hours, thinking that this was the first person I'd met whom I could imagine talking to in an old age home one day. This accident may have left permanent physical damage (I still have no nerve sensation on my right hip and thigh), but it also affirmed that I knew exactly what I was doing when I chose my life partner.

• I'm used to being in relationships where my partner is the breadwinner.
• However, when my partner and I moved back to Canada, I became the sole earner in our relationship.
• Being the breadwinner made me proud of myself, even though it came with a few challenges.

For most of my adult life, I've been in heteronormative relationships where my partner was the breadwinner. My career path has been somewhat unconventional, as I worked in various fashion sales and merchandising roles before getting into freelance writing. I've worked full-time, part-time, and a blend of both alongside freelancing — meaning my income hasn't always experienced linear growth.

My husband, on the other hand, spent most of his 20s and early 30s climbing the corporate ladder. He had a higher and more stable salary than I did for the first five years of our relationship — until we decided to move back to Canada last year, and the roles were reversed.

I became the breadwinner when we moved

We originally met in Canada, where he took a brief pause from his corporate management job to travel the country on a working-holiday visa. Upon returning to the UK, his homeland, he went back to his job, and I eventually joined him on my own working-holiday visa. We spent four years living in the UK together but ultimately decided we wanted to live in Canada.

The immigration route we took meant he would have to leave his job, and that he wouldn't be able to work for up to a year while we waited for his permanent residency to come through. It was up to me to be the sole breadwinner for the first time in our relationship. As a Canadian citizen, I was able to work from the get-go. It wasn't a decision we made lightly, but we had a safety net of savings and calculated that my freelance income would be enough to cover our bases and live comfortably.

I felt proud, but there were challenges, too

Being the breadwinner was simultaneously challenging and empowering. On the one hand, I felt proud knowing I could support my family all on my own after years of always being the one who earned less. But living on a single income isn't easy in this economy. We weren't saving much, and though we didn't have to make too many sacrifices in our daily lives, we held back on bigger-ticket non-essential items that we normally love, like travel and concerts.

It also gave me a new perspective about finances and ultimately brought us closer together. We always used to split our finances, but after the move, we created a shared account — my husband couldn't create his own while he was in immigration limbo. I used to be hesitant about joint accounts. I worried about having petty arguments over purchases we didn't agree on, and maintaining a sense of independence was important to me.

Fortunately, we've found having one account keeps us both accountable for our spending habits. My husband has admitted he's reined in on casual purchases compared to when we had separate accounts, and I'm also more careful about what I buy. Plus, it's nice to see all our earnings in one place. It makes me feel like we're more unified.

We now earn about the same amount again

My husband has since received his permanent residency and found a new job here in Canada. We're now earning a similar amount and still share an account. I'll be honest — it's a relief not to be the sole earner anymore. Still, I'm grateful for everything I learned during my time as the breadwinner.

I feel more confident in my own earning capabilities, and I feel that my husband and I have become more equal as partners since we've both had the opportunity to step up and provide. We went through a period that often makes or breaks a couple, and I'm thrilled to say it only made us stronger.

• Dotty Burgess was married to her husband for 77 years.
• Now 103, she shared her advice for a long-lasting, healthy relationship with Business Insider.
• It includes having things to look forward to and accommodating your partner's needs.

In 1944, a 23-year-old model wrote a letter to a pilot-in-training at his mother's request. He replied right away, and a few weeks later they were engaged.

Dotty Burgess, from San Jose and now 103, was married to her husband Frank Burgess for 77 "wonderful" years before he died in 2021. She now lives at Revel Nevada, a retirement community south of Las Vegas.

Burgess told Business Insider that her biggest advice for a long-lasting relationship is to choose your partner well.

She also shared some tips for maintaining a healthy relationship once you've found that person.

Know that issues won't last forever

"We realized how important it was to stay together throughout the storms, knowing nothing lasts forever," Burgess said.

This echoes advice psychologists have previously shared with BI. John Gottman, a psychologist who has studied relationships for 42 years, said people in successful relationships don't just let things go. Instead they "repair" their relationship after conflicts with gentle communication.

April Eldemire, a licensed marriage and family therapist in Florida, said that in a healthy relationship, partners work through issues as a team.

Know the things that annoy your partner and avoid them

Burgess said she and her husband knew to avoid doing things that made the other angry.

A 2019 study published in the journal Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin found that partners accommodate each other's needs more when they have a committed, securely attached relationship, feel valued by their partner, and maintain a strong sense of self.

If you do end up angry with your partner, BI previously reported on a five-second trick to help resolve conflicts in a relationship.

Always have something to look forward to

"No matter how big or small it is, always have something to look forward to that keeps the adrenaline and excitement in your life," Burgess said.

For her, that was taking a walk with her husband, or having an ice-cream cone with their granddaughter.

She and Frank also loved taking road trips together. "The most magnificent and beautiful thing I have ever seen was the rainforest in the state of Washington" on one of these road trips, she said.

Feeling excited to build a life together and enjoying spending time with your partner are signs of happiness in a relationship, Suzanne Degges-White, a licensed counselor and professor at Northern Illinois University, previously told BI.

• My husband and I have opposite organizational styles.
• I learned the hard way that pressuring him to change wouldn't work.
• A home remodel forced us to face the clutter, and now, we communicate much better.

I consider myself a pseudo-minimalist. I don't buy knickknacks when traveling, fill my home with extra furniture, or stock up on pantry, beauty, or toiletry supplies. I like having dresser drawers that close easily and bookshelves I can pull a novel from without four others toppling onto my head.

Now imagine the opposite of my personality in the clutter department, and you have my husband.

He's a collector. He's a saver of the socks I would throw out because they're starting to get a small hole, of the hockey gear that goes unused, of extra dinnerware we don't have room for.

So what are these two personalities doing living under one roof? Well, we love each other. And people do crazy things for love.

The difference between how we dealt with clutter took a toll

When we married and moved in together, the problem revealed itself in full. We had very different ways of organizing and even thinking about the items we bring — and keep — in our home.

I felt suffocated and panicked at the stacks, bags, and boxes of his things.

My attempts to purge items didn't go well. I didn't know how to be kind in my panic, and he didn't want things to change.

Living with so much clutter affected my mental health. I felt the pressure of organizing so many things. It seemed impossible to make stuffed spaces look nice. Rooms felt cramped, every storage area overflowed, and our fights over the subject became caustic.

I knew it was time for a different approach. He had emotional attachments to things that I didn't understand, but it didn't mean I was right in demanding that they go.

Health and wellness consultant Michelle Porter told Business Insider, "Studies show that cluttered spaces elevate cortisol levels, the body's stress hormone. For all household members, this can mean heightened irritability, difficulty focusing, and a reduced ability to relax." In short, our stuff affects our health, and I needed to reduce our load.

Biopsychologist Mary Poffenroth explains why organizing shared spaces can be so difficult. "What one partner thinks is necessary organization, the other partner may see as a threat to their emotional safety and well-being."

A remodel meant it was time for a new approach

During our recent kitchen remodel, I saw that even with the additional space provided by the new cabinetry, it still wasn't enough for all the appliances and dishes he owned. I suggested we only keep what would fit into the new space. To my surprise and delight, he agreed. This made the getting-rid-of-things talks that followed easier because we'd both consented beforehand.

At the end of the remodel, we donated several boxes.

I felt empowered. High on the win, we implemented this same tactic in other areas by creating a "one in, one out" rule. If a new shirt comes into the house, he donates one. The same goes for other clothing items. And now, when he wants to buy a new appliance, he considers first if we have a space for it.

We now have a new way of talking about clutter

For items going unused, it takes a little more patience. I'll bring up the item I'd like to discuss and the fact that it seems we don't really need it. I use the word "seem" specifically so he can correct me if he is using it and I'm wrong. He usually replies with how he's hoping to use the item soon and we agree to a timeline. Then, if it's not used at least an agreed-upon number of times over the next year, we'll sell or donate it.

Nowadays, our space is much more comfortable for me than when we first married. Decluttering our space will be an ongoing process as life and needs change, but we've learned how to talk through the "stuff" in a way that works for us both, and that's the real success story.

• My husband and I had an unconventional engagement and wedding.
• We did most wedding traditions in reverse — or not at all.
• I proposed to him, and we got my engagement ring after we got married.

My husband and I did pretty much every wedding tradition in reverse when we got married three years ago.

Though the low-key proposal came first, I got my engagement ring and had my bachelorette party after the wedding. We also did several things that went against Western wedding norms during the process: we had a simple registry office wedding where we walked down the aisle together, I kept my last name, and I opted for colored gemstones over diamonds in my ring.

Some of these decisions were circumstantial. We got married during the peak of the pandemic, so we couldn't have had a big celebration even if we wanted to. Others were based on our personal preferences. I've never considered myself a traditional person, and I knew I wanted to do things that felt right for me when it came to marriage.

I proposed to him and decided to keep my last name

Technically, I was the one that proposed. We're an international couple, which means immigration law dictates our ability to be together physically. I had moved to the UK (where my husband is from) on a two-year working holiday visa, but I knew I'd eventually need another visa for us to stay together long-term.

I didn't want to accrue student loan debt with a student visa and wasn't eligible for a work visa, making a family visa my only option. We hadn't been living together long enough to qualify for the unmarried partner visa, so I asked my then-boyfriend if he would consider marrying me. We knew we wanted to spend the rest of our lives together, so we decided to go for it.

For me, the most important thing was us being together, which is why I was perfectly happy with our quiet COVID-era wedding. I'd never dreamt of having a big, traditional wedding; I'm an introvert who struggles with party planning. We decided to walk down the aisle together because we liked the idea of entering our marriage as equal partners — a practice I've since learned is standard in Sweden and other Nordic countries.

I also decided to keep my last name following the wedding. I didn't want to deal with the logistics of changing a name in two countries in addition to visa paperwork, and I wanted to keep the name that reflected my heritage. My husband fully supported my decision.

My ring and bachelorette party came after the wedding

We also chose my engagement ring later because we were focused on securing a wedding date during the pandemic, which was no small feat. Once things were settled, my husband encouraged me to choose the design I'd want to wear for the rest of my life. I've always preferred colored and iridescent gemstones to diamonds, so I selected a ring featuring our two birthstones: opal (mine) and emerald (his).

The ring arrived on the day of my bachelorette party, which my friends hosted for me once COVID restrictions slightly eased. It felt funny to do things in reverse, but as the wedding taught me — the most important thing is simply being with the people you love.

We have spoken about having a bigger celebration, but we know it would be extremely difficult to plan with our family and friends living all across the globe. I won't be upset if it never happens, because it won't take away from our love for each other. When I think about our wedding day, I love that it was so intimate and relaxed. It felt like the perfect reflection of our relationship. My only regret? Not finding a way to sneak our dog into the ceremony.

• When my husband was unemployed for seven months, his morale and confidence slipped.
• I helped him through the difficult parts by reminding him he wasn't just a paycheck to our family.
• I also created a daily routine for him, which got him more involved in our kids' lives.

My husband left a stable job for a shiny startup when I was 38 weeks pregnant. The switch didn't go well.

In addition to three kids, bills to pay, and an unfinished building project, he worried endlessly that he wasn't what the company wanted. After giving birth, I'd relinquished my part-time work, which contributed to his mounting pressure to provide.

One night, my body hunched in a C-shape as I nursed our 7-week-old infant, I told him, "If you lose your job, we'll be OK. We'll have each other. There are worse things."

With my free hand, I grasped his. Two weeks later, he came home from work early.

"They let me go," he said, shame washing over his face. "I have a one-month severance package."

Just like that, everything changed. I tried to be supportive throughout my husband's unemployment, but it wasn't easy.

Ghosting has become the norm when job-hunting

We were surprised to learn that many employers were ghosters — either ignored his job application completely or never followed up after an interview.

I remember one time a hiring manager told my husband, "We'll let you know by Wednesday. We aren't one of those places that leave people hanging."

Wednesday came and went. A week later, my husband reached out via email, knowing what they would say even before he sent it: Sorry, we chose the other candidate.

During the seven-month job hunt that ensued, my husband and I felt endlessly discouraged by how often he was offered first, second, and third interviews only to wait weeks for results — or worse, never to hear back at all.

My husband's morale began to slip

My husband struggled with his confidence each time he received a rejection email or a promising job ghosted him. It seemed all of his prior successes did not matter anymore. He questioned his career path and widened his search to include work that didn't excite him or utilize his skill set.

As often as possible, I shared anecdotes of other friends struggling to find employment and encouraged him to keep trying. I told him to focus on the jobs that piqued his interest and matched his background. I also reminded him the struggle to find a new job wasn't a reflection on him but on the current system.

But, most importantly, I made it clear to him that his worth didn't come in the form of a paycheck. No matter what, he was an important family member — both as a father and partner.

I helped my husband lean into routine and other support systems

Another way I helped my husband remain grounded during unemployment was to establish a daily routine. We resolved to live as normally as possible. We divided the morning responsibilities — from packing lunches to school drop-offs — before he settled in and job-hunted.

He applied to at least one job per day, totaling over 200 applications in seven months. He also participated in countless pre-screenings, preliminary interviews, and 15 finalist panel interviews. It was a full-time job applying for a job.

When he took breaks, we ate meals and worked out together. In the afternoons, we divided pick-ups since our children attended different schools. He'd worked a demanding schedule for years, often missing family dinners and extracurriculars. Suddenly, he was home and available to us. Most evenings, after a family dinner, we played board games and took walks. He even found time to volunteer in our children's classrooms.

I wanted my husband to reframe his thinking and see how lucky we were to gain this valuable time together, especially with an infant. He agreed the family time was sweet, but it all still shook his confidence, and he worried about not providing a paycheck.

Supporting one another became the key

Many factors were out of our control during this long period of unemployment. Our support system was family and friends, who joked at our extra frugality and shared in our victories and disappointments.

As trite as it sounds, this seven-month unemployment period, although difficult, worked out for the best. Not only was my husband more present for our children and me, but he eventually landed a job with more flexibility on a team he loves.

Looking back, I know we got through the unemployment season because we leaned on each other. We learned that support can go a long way toward keeping morale up.

• I met my partner when I was seven years sober.
• Although I was far into my sobriety journey, some of his drinking habits triggered me.
• I told him my concerns, and we built a relationship on open communication.

I met my husband a few days after my seventh sobriety anniversary. I don't even remember when I first told him that I no longer drank because it simply wasn't a big deal for me by that point.

I'd lost any lingering embarrassment over being someone in recovery. My now-husband must've taken the news in stride; otherwise, I'm sure I would recall that first sobriety conversation better.

But as we got more serious, I realized we needed to have harder discussions. Some of those are more memorable because I had to be more vulnerable, and his response, if negative, could have ended our relationship.

My then-boyfriend started to trigger my addiction

Because of my history with addiction, I am aware of my boundaries to avoid relapse. For example, in the first year of sobriety, I couldn't live in a home with alcohol. It was too early for me and too scary to have temptation that close.

With time, things got easier. A year into sobriety, I was less easily triggered and moved in with a friend who kept bottles of wine in the house. I didn't ask her to remove them; I had enough discipline and trust in myself at that point.

When I met my husband, I could handle most bars and parties without being tempted. Having a partner who drank wasn't a dealbreaker for me, but I still needed boundaries within the relationship to protect my sobriety.

I realized some situations were triggering me as our relationship developed. It wasn't easy to share that a situation tempted me after all that time without drinking. But my sobriety had been too hard-won to risk skating over the issue.

I shared how going out to dinner was difficult because he ordered cocktails every time, and the frequency was too much for me. I also let him know I was uncomfortable seeing him tipsy and that it made me feel unsafe even though I knew he was safe. And later, when we bought our home, we went shopping for a liquor cabinet for him. It's not hard to have alcohol in the house, but bottles visible on the counter for long periods are more difficult for me.

In some cases, we struggled through these conversations. I couldn't even tell him why some things were more triggering than others. It took some back-and-forth to get to a place of understanding. He asked questions and did his best to listen and take action. This new territory was uncomfortable for both of us. But with every hard talk, we got a little better at it. And we always reached an agreement that felt like a step forward.

We now have a relationship built on open communication

Looking back, I can honestly see how helpful my sobriety has been in fostering our communication, forcing us to have some serious conversations early on. I had to be shamelessly vulnerable. My partner had to respond with empathy and action. I'm grateful he took me seriously.

We were also forced to dig deep and state our feelings clearly, including why some things rubbed me the wrong way. It was one of the best things that happened in building our relationship.

Here we are, four years later, married, and my 11th year of sobriety just celebrated.

No one should risk their sobriety for a relationship

I don't share my boundaries for anyone to compare their own. Everyone in sobriety has their personal level of need when it comes to distance or safety from substances. I've had weaker and stronger seasons, and my boundaries are mine. There's no shame in requiring an alcohol-free home.

If you've worked hard to get sober, don't risk something so precious to meet anyone else's standard. Ask for what you need to be healthy in your relationships.

My husband and I have discussed that if I go through a season of feeling more triggered, we would remove any alcohol from our home, and he would abstain completely. The level of support is there, no matter if the needle on the gauge changes. Some hard things can surprise you and turn into an advantage. It worked that way for us.

Josh Allen is hoping for a Super Bowl ring this year, but, at the very least, he's guaranteed another type of ring.

The Buffalo Bills quarterback and singer/actress Hailee Steinfeld got engaged last week, the future Mrs. Allen announced Friday.

It's clear Allen took advantage of his team's bye week last week, proposing on a waterside lawn.

CLICK HERE FOR MORE SPORTS COVERAGE ON FOXNEWS.COM

Allen knelt down on a knee surrounded by candles and a flower arch.

The couple posted the engagement to their Instagram accounts in a joint post, captioning it with the date they got engaged sandwiched between two infinity emojis.

Allen's teammate, Dion Dawkins, said earlier this year the quarterback was "in love" with the "Starving" singer. The two have been dating since May 2023.

GIANTS HEAD COACH BRIAN DABOLL NOT WORRIED ABOUT HIS JOB AFTER HIS TEAM WAS FIRST ELIMINATED FROM PLAYOFFS

Allen's Bills are 9-2 this season, and he is again in the MVP race. He has completed 64% of his passes for 2,543 yards and 18 touchdowns.

Before the bye week — and engagement — the Bills handed the Kansas City Chiefs their first loss of the season.

Allen will be back on the field Sunday in Buffalo against the defending NFC champion San Francisco 49ers, and a huge winter storm is expected to slam the area.

Follow Fox News Digital’s sports coverage on X, and subscribe to the Fox News Sports Huddle newsletter.

• Ted Danson is thankful he didn't meet his wife, Mary Steenburgen, until later in life.
• "I was not really fully emotionally baked until shortly before I met Mary," Danson told People.
• They met in 1983, reconnected in 1993, and got married in 1995.

Ted Danson has one thing to be grateful for this year — not meeting his wife, Mary Steenburgen, until later in life.

In an interview with People published Thursday, "The Good Place" actor says that their relationship wouldn't have worked out if they had met earlier.

"Guarantee you the answer is no. I'll just speak for myself," Danson, 76, told People. "I was not really fully emotionally baked until shortly before I met Mary."

The year before he met Steenburgen, he made a commitment to work on himself.

"I had, about a year before, decided I want to become a more emotionally mature, honest human being," he said. "I worked very hard at it or I don't think Mary Steenburgen would've even seen me. So yeah. The answer is no. Thank God we didn't meet earlier."

Danson and Steenburgen met in 1983 when he auditioned to play her on-screen husband in "Cross Creek." A decade later, they reconnected on the set of the 1993 film "Pontiac Moon" and married in 1995. They each have two children from their previous marriages.

In the '80s, the average age for American men to get married was 25, while women were tying the knot three years earlier at 22. In recent years, those ages have risen to 30 and 28, respectively, according to US Census data.

Danson says part of the reason their relationship works is also because they always have each other's backs.

"Whenever I become self-deprecating, full of doubt, which I do on a regular basis, she lovingly goes, 'Snap out of it,' and kind of forces me out the door into turning the next corner in life," he said.

Dr. Lindsay C. Gibson, a clinical psychologist, previously told Business Insider that an emotionally mature romantic partner will show clear signs of listening, be able to express empathy, and be good at regulating their emotions.

Interactions with them will also feel natural, she said.

"They're looking to dovetail with you as much as possible because they like harmony," Dr. Gibson said. "They like getting along with people, they don't say impulsive or thoughtless things, and they seem to notice how things affect someone."

A representative for Danson did not immediately respond to a request for comment sent by Business Insider outside regular hours.

• I got divorced earlier this year, so I'm choosing to be alone this Thanksgiving.
• I'm excited to do exactly what I want on Thanksgiving, including cooking what I like.
• After a difficult and emotional year, I'm embracing my solitude.

Thanksgiving has always been one of my least favorite holidays. As a formerly homeless youth, the holiday's emphasis on family bonding has never appealed to me. I haven't been part of a big family Thanksgiving since I was a little kid.

For most of my adult life, I spent the day with my ex-partner, having a small but elaborate celebration. It was a great way to take back Thanksgiving for me.

But after 19 years together, we unexpectedly got divorced. That means I'll be spending this Thanksgiving alone, and I'm looking forward to it.

I've turned down invites to attend other people's Thanksgiving plans

When friends and acquaintances hear that I intend to spend Thanksgiving alone, they're surprised. People generally assume I'm sad about being alone or have nowhere to spend the holiday with others.

I have options, but I'm choosing my own company. While the idea of someone being alone on this holiday upsets some, I know I will have a better time doing the day my way.

I had some very dysfunctional Thanksgiving holidays growing up, but the worst I remember happened 22 years ago when I was 18. I got invited to an older friend's house. Being included in other people's traditions for the day didn't feel good; it felt exhausting. I regretted going the minute I arrived and immediately wanted to return to my sparse studio apartment. I politely waited through dinner and dessert before I could excuse myself and head home.

The next year, I was 19 and spent Thanksgiving alone, and I had a much better time. I plan to do the same this year.

My new plan for Thanksgiving is only to do the things I enjoy

I lived in NYC for many years, and one of my favorite Thanksgiving holidays was when I went after work to watch the Macy's balloons be inflated. I love watching the balloons and intend to spend Thanksgiving morning on my couch watching them on TV. I have already decorated my house for Christmas, but I still love watching the parade close with Santa ushering in the holiday season officially.

Other than the parade, my favorite part of Thanksgiving is watching the broadcast of the National Dog Show. This year, I don't have to account for anyone's elaborate cooking schedule or timing preferences for the holiday. I'm looking forward to watching the dog show without feeling guilty like I should be in the kitchen helping cook a meal I'm not even invested in eating.

My dogs and I will then go for a walk and complete our American Kennel Club Turkey Trot walk, which benefits junior handlers. I also grew up showing dogs, so this is a small way to give back to a community that represents the happy memories I have from my childhood.

The only other thing I plan to do on Thanksgiving is make pawprint turkey crafts with my dogs.

I'm embracing being alone this Thanksgiving

I've told some close-chosen family members they are welcome to stop by if they want to watch balloons or the dog show with me, but I'm fine if they don't.

Fancy and elaborate meals aren't important to me, so I won't make one. I intend to eat Tofurkey, boxed mac and cheese, and maybe some stuffing. While I eat, I plan to send messages to all my favorite people, making sure they know how grateful I am for them and how much I love them.

This was not an easy year for me; it started with being blindsided by divorce and having to pick up the pieces of my life. That said, the year has, much to my surprise, been pretty great. I love the new life that I am building. My new life is filled with people near and far who see and appreciate me for who I am.

I have so much to be grateful for this year, and one of those things is learning just how much I like my own company.

When "Sex and the City" debuted in 1998, the series captured public fascination for more reasons than what its title might imply. It wasn't just that the show's central foursome were women having lots of sex; they were women over 30 having lots of sex, and they were single. A "mid-30ish crowd of bed-hopping, hedonistic female night crawlers," a Los Angeles Times critic pointedly wrote. Their singlehood painted a picture of a titillating, and even threatening, new woman.

Through the '90s and '00s, American women "pioneered an entirely new kind of adulthood, one that was not kicked off by marriage, but by years and, in many cases, whole lives, lived on their own outside matrimony," the journalist Rebecca Traister wrote in her 2016 book, "All the Single Ladies." Now, unmarried women are no longer part of an edgy cultural vanguard — they're the official status quo. As of 2021, a record 52% of American women were either unmarried or separated, according to a report by Wells Fargo Economics. Single women also have single men outnumbered: A Census Bureau analysis of 2019 data found that for every 90 unmarried men in the US, there were 100 unmarried women.

While some women feel cornered into being single, citing a lackluster dating pool or the demoralizing experience of trawling apps, a growing share, call them Samantha Nation, are happy being on their own. In a 2019 survey from the Pew Research Center, only 38% of single women reported looking for dates or a relationship, compared with 61% of single men.

The rise of happily unmarried women has steadily shifted standards for what American adulthood looks like. But it hasn't come without a fuss from people who hold to a specific vision of the family. When JD Vance, now the vice president-elect, drew ire this summer over a years-old remark about "childless cat ladies," he doubled down on his insinuation that single women were symptomatic of Democrats' "anti-family and anti-kid" platforms; they were opting into a lifestyle that was fueling the erosion of the nuclear family, making them deviant by association. But research suggests it's misguided to pin the trend on shifting social mores. Women's newfound freedom to choose — not just whom they marry, but whether they marry at all — is due less to a cultural shift and more to a shifting economy. As men drop out of the workforce, American women have hit a new milestone: In August, the share of prime-age (25 to 54) women in the labor force hit a record high of 78.4%. Meanwhile, the median age of American women's first marriage has crept steadily upward, from 20.8 in 1970 to 28.3 in 2023.

The shift toward the single life has been a great development for women; for men, though, things aren't as peachy.

The way people feel about women's relationship patterns has a lot to do with a false cultural memory of what was normal in the past. The Rockwellian poster family of mid-20th-century Americana, with its happily married husband and stay-at-home wife raising 2.5 children in the picket-fenced suburbs, sank its hooks so deeply into the American imagination that it's easy to forget it was a historical fluke. In the immediate aftermaths of World War I and World War II, the nation saw momentary spikes in the proportion of single-income, male-breadwinner US households. The booms were over nearly as soon as they began. By 1970, 40% of the nation's married women, and more than half of its unmarried women, had jobs outside the home, according to Bureau of Labor Statistics data.

Even before 1970, it was far from unusual to see American women working for a living. The economist Claudia Goldin, who won a 2023 Nobel Memorial Prize for her work unpacking gender differences in the labor market, has noted that the gender gap in US labor-force participation steadily shrunk between 1890 and 1990. As more and more women were working for pay, deindustrialization in the '80s and '90s drove scores of men out of the labor market, shrinking the pool of those who could support a family.

Jess Carbino, a relationships researcher who formerly worked as a sociologist for Tinder and Bumble, told me that many people ascribed to a model of the family popularized by the economist Gary Becker in the early '80s, which said that single people were looking for partners whose market strengths complemented their own. By applying economic theory to the prevailing cultural ideas of the time, he concluded that because men were good at earning money and women were good at having babies and raising them, it's only logical that the two should join forces in the household.

The problem with that arrangement (besides its blatant sexism) is that men today are losing their economic footing.

"We're seeing men's labor-force participation rates really plummet, since the 1990s especially," said Elizabeth Crofoot, a senior economist and principal researcher at the labor-market-analytics firm Lightcast. "That gives women greater impetus to actually work on their careers and put in more time and effort to make themselves financially stable and not have to rely on someone else."

Of course, women's relative workforce gains have not translated into equal earning power; on average, US women still earn $0.84 per every $1 earned by men, according to the Census Bureau. However, a 2021 Pew survey found women were outpacing men in educational attainment. And a Pew analysis of government data found that in 2019, women began outnumbering men in the college-educated labor force. There's evidence that these shifts are fueling the move away from marriage. In a 2023 survey from the American Enterprise Institute's Survey Center on American Life, almost three-quarters of single, college-educated women cited "not being able to find someone who meets their expectations" as a reason they were romantically unattached. Only 54% of single women with no college degree said the same.

Against this backdrop, it makes sense why a growing share of Americans are single simply because they enjoy being single. Carmindy Bowyer is one of them.

"I'm very independent," Bowyer, a makeup artist and beauty entrepreneur in New York City, said. "I don't want to live with somebody. I don't want to have children. People out there don't realize that they have a choice."

Bowyer, who is 53, didn't always feel this way. While she always knew she would never have children, she caved to social pressure to marry in her 30s. Even her parents — who were happily married for over 50 years — questioned whether she was cut out for married life. "We were walking down the aisle, and my dad was like, 'You can always get divorced.' And I was like, 'Thanks,'" she recalled. "Sure enough, marriage didn't work out for me. And I was happy about it." Bowyer said she realized that she felt truer to herself when she was making day-to-day decisions about how to live her life entirely on her own terms. She just needed to give herself permission to do it.

For other women, the dating market has become a major turnoff. "Single women that I work with can feel very compromised by the whole process of trying to find a partner," said Stephanie Manes, a licensed psychotherapist who works with individuals and couples in New York City. "It can mean being treated in ways that are totally at odds with how these women see themselves — as smart, self-sufficient, empowered grown-ups. It can require them to lower their standards in pretty fundamental ways and force them to suffer through some really bad behavior."

Cultural attitudes have been slow to catch up to the not-so-new normal of singlehood. Traister's book quotes a passage from 1997 in which the writer Katie Roiphe, then 28, described her cohort of unmarried 20-something professionals as evidence of Americans' widespread failure to achieve adulthood on schedule. And being single today still generates some social stigma. A 2020 analysis published in the Journal of Experimental Social Psychology found that prejudice toward singles was viewed as more acceptable than prejudice toward other groups.

For women, however, the societal sense that they should be married has slowly but surely waned. In Pew's 2019 survey, just 35% of single women said they felt pressure from society to be in a relationship — a slightly larger share of single men said they felt the same.

Singledom also appears far more beneficial for women than men on average: Numerous studies have found that single women tend to be happier and healthier and live longer than married ones, while unmarried men have been found to experience markedly higher rates of depression, addiction, and loneliness than those with spouses. "If you are a man, you should probably get married; if you are a woman, don't bother," the author and behavioral scientist Paul Dolan quipped in a 2019 interview.

There are many hypotheses on why single men fare so much worse. Theories put forward by economists such as Richard Reeves and Nicholas Eberstadt suggest that male gender roles have been slow to catch up to labor-market realities, perhaps at the expense of many men's ability to thrive in the soft-skills-based 21st-century knowledge economy. Others theorize that men's loneliness starts in childhood and stems from societal pressure to keep their feelings hidden. While there are likely many factors at play, a common thread lies in the asocial and infantilizing mores of a patriarchal society that, in some crucial respects, may harm men even more than women.

Women, meanwhile, are finding joy and purpose in discovering new ways of living outside the nuclear-family norm. Platonic coparenting and cohousing arrangements between friends and the return of the multigenerational family home are just two recent examples of the changing face of the American household.

"In my book, I make the case that people who are single at heart are happy and flourishing because they are single, not in spite of it," Bella DePaulo, a social psychologist and the author of the 2023 book "Single at Heart," said. She has said that even within the past decade, there has been traction in what some call "a singles positivity movement." Now 71 (and still single), DePaulo said that current attitudes toward single professionals, in particular, are a far cry from her experience as a single 30-something woman in the workplace.

"Single people are still stereotyped, for sure, but now there is a greater awareness that some single people choose to be single and are happily single," she said.

Bowyer believes that social media plays a significant role in moving the needle. When she recently posted on TikTok about enjoying being single and child-free, the video attracted more than 4 million views and a flurry of positive feedback. It's a radical departure from the cultural feedback she and her Gen X peers received as young adults.

"We're so much more open and compassionate now — a more elevated society in some ways," Bowyer said. "You can find your tribe and be inspired by people that came before you."

Kelli María Korducki is a journalist whose work focuses on work, tech, and culture. She's based in New York City.

• Lauren Sánchez, 54, says she never expected to have so much to look forward to in life after turning 50.
• "When I was 20, I thought, 'Oh my gosh, life is over at 50,'" she said on the "Today" show.
• Apart from her wedding to Jeff Bezos, Sánchez also has a space flight to look forward to.

These days, Lauren Sánchez, 54, thinks that growing older is a gift.

During a "Today" show interview on Wednesday, Sánchez told hosts Hoda Kotb and Savannah Guthrie that she never thought she would have so much to look forward to at this point in her life.

"I never thought at 54 — I'm going to be 55 — that I'd be an author, that I'd be getting married. I mean, life is just beginning," Sánchez said. "When I was 20, I thought, 'Oh my gosh, life is over at 50.' Let me tell you: It is not, ladies. It is not over."

Sánchez also said that life "just gets better and better" as she grows older.

"When women are like, 'Oh, What is it like turning 50?' I was like, 'It's just the beginning,'" she added.

In May last year, news broke that Sánchez had gotten engaged to Amazon founder Jeff Bezos. The couple first went public with their relationship in 2019, shortly after Bezos and his ex-wife, MacKenzie Scott, divorced.

Although Sanchez did not share any details about when their wedding would be, she said she was "very excited" and had already started thinking about her dress.

"I do have a Pinterest, I'm just like every other bride. So I do have a Pinterest board," she said.

In addition to her wedding, Sánchez also has a flight to space to look forward to, although it is unclear when the trip will happen. She first announced her plans to go to space in 2022.

While she didn't divulge any details about the all-female crew who will be accompanying her to space, she referred to them during the "Today" interview as a group of "explorers."

"When we think of women, a lot of times we don't think of them as explorers," she said. "We think of Magellan and Jacques Cousteau, but we're explorers."

The mother-of-three shared that it was Bezos who first used the word "explorer" to describe her, and it changed the way she perceived herself and other women.

"He goes, 'You know, you're an explorer.' I was like, what? He goes, 'Yes. You're a pilot. You like to see the world,'" Sánchez said, recalling Bezo's words. "And I never thought of myself as an explorer. And when he said, 'Okay, why don't you take an incredible group of women up?' I was like, I'm picking all explorers so that they could come back and tell their story about how going to space changes them."

This isn't the first time that a high-profile individual has spoken about embracing aging.

In March, Anne Hathaway, 42, chose to do "The Idea of You" because she wanted to "tell the story of a woman blooming."

"I don't know why we don't have more stories about human beings blooming at any age. We're always coming of age, all the time," she said.

In August, Oprah Winfrey, 70, shared on the "Today" show that she wasn't worried about getting older because she wants to live in the present.

"I'm excited to make every number. I remember many, many years ago as a young girl, I had always thought that I would never make it to the 60s or 70s," Winfrey said.

A representative for Sánchez did not immediately respond to a request for comment sent by Business Insider outside regular hours.

• Growing up, I knew I wanted to get married, but wasn't sure I'd have kids.
• When I met my husband, he had a daughter already, and I was surprised by my connection to her.
• I found that I love being a stepmom.

In seventh grade, we were tasked with writing an autobiography. My sunflower-fabric-adorned masterpiece still lives at my parents' house, tucked away in a cabinet among photo albums and newspaper clippings.

I pulled it out not long ago and flipped through the pages. Twelve-year-old me imagined I'd go to grad school and become a journalist (check and check). I was surprised by how accurately I saw myself, even at a young age.

Then I came to my projections page, where I mused, "I don't know if I would like to have children, but I hope to get married."

It's now 27 years later, and not much has changed. As I prepare to enter my 40s, I've had moments of the proverbial "baby fever," but it always fades. I'm an introvert who's solidly protective of my solo time, and I always assumed that meant that all manner of parenting would be a no-go for me.

So you can imagine my surprise when I met my now-stepdaughter a few years ago and discovered I thoroughly enjoy being a parent figure in her life.

I never expected to become a stepmom, but I'm glad I did

I stumbled into all of it and met my husband, Davey, on a dating app while attempting to make platonic guy friends. It quickly became romantic, and I felt an internal push-pull. I wanted to grow our relationship, but I was also terrified to meet his daughter, and he was rightfully concerned about introducing any romantic partners to his child.

But when I did meet her the summer after she finished kindergarten, it went well. We all hung out a couple more times, and she started asking about me and inviting me to things. I felt a connection with her; she's curious, inquisitive, and fun. I often get compliments now from strangers on her "bright energy," and that stood out to me back then, too.

Davey and I got engaged, and we moved in together. We were married a year later. I officially became a stepmom, and — though I told my husband I didn't want to be expected to do hands-on parenting if I didn't want to — I embraced my new role.

Parenting has expanded my life

I enjoy so many things about parenting. I'm more present in my life because I don't want to miss her excitement during new experiences. I'm more involved in my community because I want to make sure she's exposed to as many things as possible. I'm more patient and thoughtful because I want to be a good example.

It's been amazing to watch my family welcome her and see my parents become grandparents for the first time. I've developed new friendships with moms that I wouldn't have otherwise; as much as we want to believe that friendships can transcend circumstance, it's just a fact that you're more exposed to people in the same season of life as you.

Recently, a friend asked me what my childcare responsibilities are, and I rattled off some things: I pack school lunches, plan playdates and sleepovers, figure out our travel schedule, and help her pick outfits. I do homework with her after school and create quizzes to help her master key concepts. I helped teach her to ride a bike, and I manage her extracurricular activities.

That's all the logistical stuff, but I also talk to her about big topics like God and spirituality and feelings like pride and humility. We make gratitude lists together and talk about everything she wants to do in the future (so far, she wants to be a baker and maybe adopt a kid someday).

Being a stepmom is the best of both worlds

Not long ago, Davey and I questioned whether we should expand our family. My stepdaughter asks for a sibling, and sometimes I think, "I'm already parenting, right?"

Yet I can't deny that as much as I love our family, I also love the built-in breaks that come with split custody. We have our downtime, and we each get to have our own interests without sacrificing family time or arranging childcare. It's the best of both worlds, and it's working for me right now.

This past summer, we went to the beach. My stepdaughter followed me into the ocean and wrapped her arms around me. "Everything's better when I'm with you and my dad," she said, and my heart exploded. It's moments like those that make me feel so lucky to have this opportunity.

Yes, I may have always seen myself as child-free, but I don't anymore. I am a stepmom — a bonus parent, but still a parent, and a role that feels right for me.

• Adrienne Uthe, 32, got engaged to her partner a few months into dating.
• A few years into being engaged, they decided against marriage but stayed together.
• Uthe, an entrepreneur, said the risk of divorce made her worried about the future of her business.

I met Eric on Bumble over six years ago, after I moved to Salt Lake City from the Midwest. It took us about a year to officially get together; we were both dating around for a while.

Eric, who is 13 years older than me, proposed a few months into our dating, which completely took me by surprise. He had gone through a difficult divorce, both financially and emotionally, and told me he was very hesitant about ever marrying again. He said I was the only one he was willing to take that risk for. I said yes.

A few years later, we ended our engagement — but are still together. While we both respect marriage, we ultimately decided it wasn't for us. The risk of divorce was legally and financially too much. Even though we get jokes and questions sometimes, we're happy just being together without the paperwork.

I changed my mind because of my business

We have an age-gap relationship. We each had fully independent careers and accomplishments before we started dating.

I've always been about business and feel like I was put on this earth to build things. I own three companies, including a PR firm I founded. I've worked so hard and been so careful to get where I am as an entrepreneur. Eric, meanwhile, is a financial speaker and instructor who's traveled all over the world.

Beyond the emotional benefits of getting married, we didn't see any clear upsides from a business perspective because we're both self-employed. While marriage comes with some tax benefits and can protect assets for some people if they separate, divorce can also get very complicated when you own your own businesses like we do.

Disentangling our lives, if it ever came to that, would be costly and energy-draining.

While we wanted to merge our worlds, what was most important to us was safeguarding what we've each built and keeping it secure on both sides.

After talking it over, we decided to end our engagement and keep our finances 100% separate while still remaining together.

The risk of divorce doesn't feel worth it

We're pretty non-traditional; even if we were to get married, we would do something casual like a Las Vegas ceremony. Eric, who was raised in Utah, got married around 20 because it was the norm. Now that we're older, he and I are more concerned with doing what feels right for us.

In the time we've been together, we've seen multiple close friends navigate divorce. It's made us firmer in our decision to stay together without marriage; we don't believe in pushing ourselves toward something we don't want.

We tell people we're like Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell, who have been together for 40 years but never married. Their reasons for not marrying are just like ours: they never want to deal with an ugly divorce.

We still don't know what to call each other

Introducing each other always feels tricky. "Fiancé" isn't accurate, but "girlfriend" doesn't cut it, either.

Eric had two sons in his previous marriage; one of them has lived with him full-time. I helped parent him and act as his stepmother, even though I'm legally not. He even calls me his stepmom. I feel like I've earned more of a title than "girlfriend," but I also know it's just a word.

Our connection feels stronger than a piece of paper. We wake up each day and choose each other not out of obligation, but because we genuinely want to.