My parents divorced when I was 11.

It would be a cliche to say I remember it like yesterday when they told me they'd be getting divorce – because I don't. Actually, that day is a blur in my mind other than certain moments that flip through my head like the opening montage of a cheesy reality show, when the voiceover begins, "Previously on …." I remember the day starting when my parents told me we'd have a family meeting that night. I also remember my father taking me to the movies and buying me a video game. Then I came home for the meeting. Two of my older sisters were there, along with my parents, of course. A close family friend and moderator led the meeting.

As soon as the family friend started talking, I knew what she was going to say. I don't remember the speech, building up to the announcement. I just remember looking around the room and everyone was looking at me, the youngest. The only child of my parents, and the only one living in the house with them. The one who sobbed and stormed out of the room when it was finally said.

I went through all of the stages: anger, confusion and even one day falling asleep in my mom's car on the way to pick up things at the old house, waking up and convincing myself that the divorce was a bad dream. It wasn't. My parents weren't getting back together.

I was one of the lucky kids, though. My parents still ran a business together after their split, went to my doctors' appointments and parent-teacher conferences together and even helped me move into my dorm room when I went to college. Still, a divorce is a divorce, and I'm still working my way through it all 16 years later. The pain from their split simply manifests itself in different ways as I get older.

As the years pass, I've realized that going through my parents' divorce has colored the way I approached my own marriage. It's been hard to break out of the fear that this could all end horribly. I've been married for almost three years and constantly have to train myself to love my wife without fear. I have to approach our marriage with the promise of decades together, and not with the worry that one mistake could destroy a family.

In sports, coaches are criticized for "playing not to lose" as opposed to "playing to win". When coaches play not to lose, they approach the game thinking about ways to avoid blowing the victory. They get conservative, tight and start second-guessing themselves – usually costing their teams the game. Confident, capable coaches take risks and aren't crippled by the fear of blowing a lead.

Sometimes I think I've spent the majority of my marriage playing not to lose. There were lapses when I wasn't trying to prosper or reach new goals, but I worked on our relationship in order to avoid a divorce, instead of working to reach to new happiness with my wife. So what did I do? I avoided conflict, bottled up emotions and panicked whenever we'd reach intense conflicts or those marital moments when a solution wasn't immediately available.

Fears of divorce are only magnified when I look at my kids. I have a step-daughter who was just a toddler when her parents split, and a one-year-old son. A divorce doesn't just affect my wife and me, but it damages the lives of two kids who didn't ask for this family. The thought of those two sitting in the corner of the living room while someone tells them my wife and I don't love each other enough to stay together has kept me up for far too many nights.

Just a couple of months ago, my wife and I were at a gas station and I saw parents doing a custody drop off for their young son. The father hugged his young son, handed the mother the boy's bags and got into his car. As the mother drove off, the father sat in the car for awhile, staring at his steering wheel. I got back in my car, hugged my wife and said, "Please, let's never do that." As our marriage has progressed, ending up at a Shell station on Sunday evenings handing a Ninja Turtles bag and my child over to a woman I hardly know anymore has become my biggest fear.

The challenge of marriage, though, is not acting on those fears. We can't just work to not get to divorced. We have to work at being happily married. Fear can't drive my marriage. Healthy love doesn't come out of worry, it comes from being proactive in love and not reactive to the worst possible scenario.

For 2014, I made a vow to be more open with my wife. To explore happiness and take risks in our marriage and strive for the best possible relationship and not just good enough to avoid a divorce. Fear won't determine our marriage – love will.