A friend of mine once said, “You should write about money. Couples fight about it all the time.”
He wasn’t wrong.
I figured I’d dash off a quick post about it — but once I started digging, I realized that money isn’t just about math. It’s about meaning. Safety. Trust. Power. Love. The more I explored, the juicier it got. One post turned into five.
This series looks at how money becomes emotional currency in our relationships — why it can spark so much tension, and how we can build a shared language that balances connection and accountability.
When couples understand what money means — not just what it does — they stop fighting about receipts and start talking about reality: safety, fairness, and partnership.
You can read the posts in any order; like life and arguments, there are no prerequisites.
If something here lands, pause before moving on. Some truths rise slowly, given warmth and time.
And if you have ideas for future topics, send them my way — just like my friend did. (I owe him one for this.)
Money Talks
What it’s about: Why every “money talk” is really an emotional conversation in disguise — and how to start those talks without turning them into fights.
Payoff: Finally figure out why your “budget chats” go nuclear — and how to stop arguing about numbers that aren’t really about numbers.
What it’s about: The invisible link between money and identity — how our self-esteem, childhood messages, and social comparisons shape our financial habits.
Payoff: See how your wallet became your self-worth — and how to quit letting dollar signs decide your value
Before apps and automatic transfers, there was the kitchen table — the quiet command center of family life. That’s where the smell of Grandma’s fresh-baked cookies filled the air, homey artwork lined the walls, and a starburst clock kept perfect time — an optimistic little sun presiding over the daily order. Everything about that house said warmth, routine, and safety, or at least looked that way.
That sense of security came from the appearance of order. Bills got paid, dinner appeared, and the world seemed to make sense. What your memories may not include are the unspoken assumptions and quiet sacrifices — the cultural constraints and gender roles that kept the gears turning. The invisible machinery made home feel safe, even if it wasn’t always fair. (Spoiler: emotional labor wasn’t even called labor yet.)
Bacon, Grease, and the Golden Rule
Back then, Grandpa brought in the bacon and was honored for the sizzle; Grandma cooked it and used the grease to keep the household running. On the surface, it looked efficient, even loving — everyone had their role. But that tidy division of labor came with a grease stain — the kind that doesn’t wash out: built-in inequity.
Those old-fashioned values leaned on what was called the “Golden Rule,” the expectation of fairness. But the truer saying, then and now, is “Whoever has the gold, makes the rules.” Money talks, and the rest of us make do. Grandma? She “made do” with plenty of love, a smile, a sigh, and a spotless kitchen. Grandpa got the last pour of bourbon and the final say — or so he thought.
Modern Money, Same Old Tension
These days, there’s no predetermined answer to who earns the money, who manages it, or who decides how it’s spent. Some couples merge accounts, others split them, some go halfsies in the name of fairness — but none of it cancels out the quiet (or not-so-quiet) conflicts over safety, control, and trust. The Golden Rule still applies, separate bank accounts notwithstanding. (Venmo didn’t solve patriarchy; it just made reimbursements faster.)
The Math Doesn’t Add Up
Splitting everything 50/50 sounds fair in theory but rarely works in practice. So much starts out unequal — income, labor, caregiving, emotional bandwidth. Who’s caring for kids, aging parents, pets, or holding the family’s emotional center? And that’s before we even talk about the fact that people naturally want different things.
And then there’s the invisible labor — the person who plans, anticipates, and reminds; who knows when the bills are due, when the insurance renews, when the kids’ tuition hits. That’s not just organization — it’s mental load. It’s the emotional weight of making sure everyone else feels secure, often without acknowledgment or help. And yes, it’s work. (No pension, but lots of receipts.)
Money is Power
Sharing money is sharing power, and you can’t balance dreams, safety, and groceries on the same scale. It’s less about math and more about trust — tuning into your partner, understanding why you each need what you need, and saying it out loud. (Pro tip: do that before the credit-card bill arrives.) Skip the debate over who pays what, and ask instead: What does money mean to you right now? What are you afraid of losing? What would make you feel safe? Those questions build more security than any spreadsheet ever could.
The Grandparents in the Wallet
Our relationship with money doesn’t start in adulthood; it starts in childhood. We watch how our parents and caregivers earn, spend, save, and fight about it — and then we copy, rebel, or overcorrect. Maybe you grew up in a house where money was tight and every purchase had to be justified. Maybe it was plentiful, but used as proof of love or control. Either way, the story you learned back then shapes how you handle it now.
Some people calm their anxiety by tracking every dollar, believing that if they stay on top of the numbers, nothing bad can happen. Others feel safest by letting someone else handle the money — not because they don’t care, but because watching the numbers rise and fall makes them nervous. And some of us do both, depending on the week.
That’s why “You handle it” isn’t always about convenience — it can mean, I don’t want to feel this anxiety right now. And “I’ll handle it” isn’t always about competence — it can mean, I can’t relax unless I’m in control. What looks like a simple division of labor is often two nervous systems negotiating for safety.
When couples start talking about money, they’re really talking about trust, fear, and the ghosts of old family stories — ghosts that still whisper what’s “normal,” what’s “enough,” and who’s supposed to be in charge.
Whose Wallet Is It Anyway?
So how do you figure out who should “run” the money? Start by dropping the idea that you can share a life but keep your finances separate from it. You’re already financially intertwined — pretending otherwise just hides the power dynamics that are already at play. Not everyone has to love spreadsheets or take on the heavy lifting, but like any other power issue in a relationship, the agreement should be clear and consensual. Talking about it doesn’t make things awkward; it keeps them honest.
Trade Family Stories. Ask each other what money was like growing up — who controlled it, who avoided it, and what that felt like. You’ll learn more in ten minutes of story than in a year of spreadsheets.
Talk About Triggers. What parts of money make you anxious or shut down? Taxes? Overspending? The “what ifs”? Knowing each other’s danger zones helps you assign roles that fit strengths, not fears.
Decide on Transparency. Whether one of you pays the bills or you both do, agree that neither is “in charge.” You’re both custodians of shared trust. Check in regularly — not to audit, but to connect.
The goal isn’t perfect equality; it’s collaboration without fear. When the system starts to wobble, go back to curiosity: What’s happening underneath this money fight? Nine times out of ten, it’s not about the numbers — it’s about safety, respect, or the need to feel heard.
Cookies, Bourbon, and an Old Grease Stain
And maybe, just maybe, picture Grandma and Grandpa again — sitting at that kitchen table, the smell of cookies still in the air, the checkbook open between them. Imagine Grandma leaning in this time, pen in hand, eyes locked with Grandpa’s. They’re not fighting; they’re smiling — possibly because she just found out he can bake too. The cookies are still warm, the bourbon’s still poured, and the old grease stain’s finally wiped clean.
This time, the power isn’t making a mess. They’ve learned to cook without splatter — less smoke, less cleanup, more flavor. It takes less energy to make it work, and it leaves a little extra for what matters most: another round of cookies… and bourbon.
Thinking about moving in together? Let’s clear something up: no amount of paperwork or negotiation will guarantee a good outcome if you haven’t really gotten to know each other.
Paperwork doesn’t build intimacy. A lease won’t make your partner kinder, tidier, or less obsessed with leaving socks in creative places. And it definitely won’t change the way they load the dishwasher.
Compatibility Isn’t Just the Good Times
Nobody moves in thinking they’re incompatible. But most of us make that decision based on how we’ve experienced our partner at their best. True compatibility shows up when you’ve also seen them at their worst.
Stress Reveals the Real Story
Here’s why: when life is easy, we tend to show up as our best selves. We’re generous, collaborative, and open. Early in a relationship, we even keep our “party manners” on. But under stress, we default to our attachment style — the protective, defensive self. That’s when the anxious partner clings, the avoidant partner pulls away, and the secure partner is left wondering what just happened.
Bluntly: the person you think might be “marriage material” has a dark side. We all do. Stress is what brings out the rough edges. And if you’re counting on “love will find a way,” the divorce statistics suggest otherwise.
The Big Four Questions Before You Move In
The usual advice about moving in covers the basics:
Motives. Love + joy? Great. Saving money? Congratulations, you’ve just found the world’s priciest roommate.
Boundaries. Love without them burns out. Boundaries without love isolate. Pick your poison.
Power. Money, assets, anger, even the “need to please.” Equality’s a myth. Fairness is the goal.
Commitment. If you’re doing it “to see what happens,” what usually happens is resentment.
All of these matter — but they assume compatibility. And you can’t measure compatibility until you’ve seen how your partner (and you) respond when things go wrong.
Try a Stress Test
Now, you can’t exactly banish your partner to Siberia or create stress on purpose by hiding their underwear. But you can take a trip together — somewhere unfamiliar, long enough and bumpy enough to test how you both cope when life isn’t picture-perfect. At the very least, you’ll learn whether your partner snores like a chainsaw before the honeymoon.
Vacations aren’t cheap. But they’re a whole lot cheaper than moving in, moving out, and way, way cheaper than divorce.
Bottom Line
Moving in together isn’t just about splitting Wi-Fi. It’s about building a life. And before you do that, make sure you know not only who your partner is when things are easy — but who they are when things get hard.
According to a YouGov survey, 28% of couples fight about money. Worse, research on everyday marital conflicts finds that money related disputes tend to last longer, recur more often, feel more significant, and are less likely to be resolved than fights about other topics.
Money isn’t just money—it’s love, safety, fairness, freedom, and the irritation stemming from “Why did you blow $550 on new headphones when we can’t afford to fix the dishwasher?”
So, let’s bust a myth: “Separate bank accounts mean we won’t fight about money.” Cute idea. Too bad it doesn’t work.
You don’t get financial freedom just because you each have your own debit card. You still share a mortgage/rent, groceries, insurance, and the joy of streaming bills. Separate accounts don’t erase interdependence—they just make it easier to pretend.
The “I’ll Pay X, You Pay Y” Illusion
Dividing bills sounds so tidy: “You cover rent, I’ll take utilities.” Done, right? Wrong. That’s not a financial plan—it’s a roommate agreement.
Here’s what that neat little math “solution” ignores:
Income gaps = power gaps. The partner earning less often feels like they have less voice in how money is spent.
Not all contributions are financial. Housework, childcare, and emotional labor don’t show up in a checking account, but hey: this is a relationship blog. Ignore those contributions at your peril.
Hidden resentments thrive in silence. What feels “fair” to one partner may feel forced or inequitable to the other.
The truth is, “I’ll pay X, you pay Y” is a shortcut. And shortcuts in relationships usually mean skipping the hard stuff—like values, fairness, and trust… foundational elements of a healthy intimate relationship.
California Reality Check
Quick disclaimer: I’m a therapist, not your lawyer. If you need legal advice, talk to one.
For married couples in California (and other community property states), separate accounts don’t actually mean separate assets. You might feel more independent, but the court may see it differently.
Which brings us back to the real question: Are you using separate accounts for healthy autonomy—or as a way to keep secrets? If you can’t show your partner your bank statement, but you’re fine letting them see you drool in your sleep, we might need to talk about your definition of “healthy autonomy”.
Fights about money – and agreements about money – are fights and agreements about the relationship. So before you even touch the numbers, ask yourselves: What kind of team do we want to be?
Do we want an all-in partnership with full financial transparency?
Or do we want to allow for individual autonomy—and if so, how much?
Put bluntly: if you’re ready to share a life together but not your financial truths, don’t be surprised when trust issues show up in both places.
Separate (but still huge) factor: your family of origin shaped your comfort with money long before you met your partner. If no one ever taught you to budget, or money was a taboo topic in your house, then you’ve got some extra work to do. You can’t commit to what you don’t understand.
Household Finance Hack
Here’s a hack that works for most couples:
Start with values. What matters more—security, fun, generosity, growth? Name them together.
Fund “Ours” first. Housing, food, insurance, kids, savings, shared goals. Take care of the team before the individuals.
Then carve out discretionary dollars. Note: dollars, not categories. That means your slice of money is yours to spend—no judgment. If you want three boxes of donuts, a new purse, or the latest Apple Watch, that’s your business. No snark from your partner required.
Automate visibility. Use apps like Mint, YNAB, or Monarch to track spending and categorize it automatically. That way no one partner ends up stuck playing Accountant of Doom at the kitchen table with a spreadsheet.
And here’s the key: everyone contributing to the budget gets to see the budget and the spending. Even if a partner isn’t at all interested in the money, knowing they can see whatever they want to see whenever they want to see it is a sure fire way to build trust and safety.
Bottom Line
Separate accounts don’t stop fights. Shared clarity doesn’t guarantee peace either—but it gives you a fighting chance. Autonomy only works if it’s framed as “this is for me” and understood as “it’s still part of us.”
Your money system is an expression of your relationship. Decide what kind of relationship you want, and let the money plan reflect that. Otherwise, you’re just roommates with benefits and joint Wi-Fi (and maybe a couple of shared streaming passwords).
If you’ve ever had a “money fight” with your partner, chances are you weren’t really fighting about the money.
Sure, it might look like a debate over a purchase, a budget, or a bank account — but beneath the surface, money often stands in for something bigger and messier.
Why We Spend the Way We Spend
Sometimes a purchase is just a purchase — a new pair of shoes, a bigger TV, a dinner out.
But just as often, it’s not about the thing itself. It’s about what the thing means to us:
A pair of shoes that says, Look at me!
A TV so big it says, I deserve to feel like I’m at the game!
A fancy dinner out that says, We’re celebrating, woo-hoo!
These aren’t bad impulses; they’re human ones. The trouble comes when the special meaning we gave an item — knowingly or not — runs headlong into our partner’s reaction.
How Shame Gets Pulled Into the Room
When you buy something to validate yourself — the watch, the purse, the car, the splurge dinner — you want your partner to celebrate it with you.
Instead, you hear:
“Do we really need that?” “That’s too much money.”
In an instant, what felt like fun (and maybe self-care) can turn into self-doubt and resentment. The good feelings are replaced by shame or defensiveness — not because of the item itself, but because your partner has (perhaps unintentionally) invalidated what it meant to you.
The Emotional Math Behind Money
We like to believe our spending decisions are logical.
Mostly, they’re not.
Even in business, after the spreadsheets and scorecards, final decisions often come down to an emotion-based choice between similar options. The difference? At work, your spouse isn’t standing there with a raised eyebrow.
In a relationship, every purchase lives inside a shared emotional space. That space might be:
Open and trusting – where curiosity outweighs criticism.
Tense and mistrustful – where each purchase feels like a test.
A mix of both – like the famous box of chocolates: you never know what you’re going to get.
The Role of Upbringing
Our money habits didn’t start with our current partner. Early messages from family, culture, and past relationships shape how we spend — and how we react to our partner’s spending.
If your childhood taught you that spending is indulgent or unsafe, you may hear judgment even when none is intended.
If you grew up so resource-strapped you were begging neighbors to pick their weeds so your mom could cook them for dinner, spending might always carry a faint sense of danger, even in good times.
If you grew up equating spending with success, being questioned can feel like being told you’re not successful enough.
If you grew up with wealth and privilege, you may see spending as natural and unremarkable — which can clash with a partner who treats every dollar as a decision.
Those early experiences don’t disappear when we become adults. They ride along with us — and sometimes, they’re the ones really doing the talking in a money fight.
Practical Takeaways
Name the need – Ask yourself: Am I buying this to meet a practical need or an emotional one? Focus not just on what you buy, but why you buy it — and consider whether that “why” is influenced by your early money experiences.
Set “no-discussion” thresholds – Agree that purchases under $X don’t require consultation.
Separate autonomy from secrecy – Personal spending freedom doesn’t have to mean financial blind spots.
Use a values-based budget – Align your spending plan with what matters most to both of you.
Ask This Before Your Next “Money Fight”
Is this actually about money? Are we talking about rent money — or resentment money?
Is this a values clash? Are we disagreeing about what matters, or about the price tag?
Am I buying this to feel worthy? If so, is there a healthier way to meet that need?
Bottom Line
If you’re fighting over a $75 purse when the bills are paid, the fight probably isn’t about the purse. But if the account is empty and someone buys the latest gadget, it may be an attempt to fill a self-worth gap that money can’t actually fill.
Talking openly — even about the shame stuff — can help you both see what’s really at stake. Because if you only ever talk about the dollars, you risk missing the truth hiding underneath.
We need to talk about money. Which is awkward, because most of us were taught not to.
It’s a little strange, isn’t it? We spend so much time thinking about money, worrying about it, trying to stretch it. We tell ourselves it’s not what matters most. That it doesn’t define us. Meanwhile, we casually refer to rich people as having a “high net worth.”
Truth is, money touches nearly every part of our lives—identity, security, autonomy, trust, power, love, and sometimes even lust. But talking about it? That’s where we draw the line.
Ask someone about their income, credit card debt, or whether they can actually afford that trip to Italy, and you’ve committed a social sin. It’s “none of your business.” And that silence? That’s no way to build a shared financial life.
How Did We Get Here?
Our discomfort didn’t start with budgeting apps or forgotten Venmo requests. It started much earlier.
Maybe your parents tried to protect you by keeping money stress a secret. Or maybe you asked how much something cost and got scolded for being “nosy.” Maybe Aunt Bea and Uncle Arthur got dragged in whispered tones at Thanksgiving for living beyond their means. Growing up in that kind of environment, you may have learned that money is sacred, private, off-limits—something to worry about, but never discuss.
Money comes with baggage. The family-sized kind. And enough cultural taboo to sink the Titanic—again.
So we avoid the topic. We split responsibilities, keep our accounts separate, and try not to rock the boat. We’re pretending to be 100% partners while acting like money doesn’t impact our relationship.
But here’s the thing: you are already communicating with your partner about money—whether you talk about it or not.
What That Blender Really Means
That $125 blender? In one family, it’s a thoughtful upgrade. In another, it’s a reckless impulse buy. Same object. Completely different meanings.
And here’s the real kicker: those meanings usually go unspoken. We don’t talk about the spending until the rent is past due or the check bounces. So the only time we do talk about money is when we’re already stressed about it. Not exactly a recipe for healthy communication.
You Don’t Have to Wing It
If love is supposed to conquer all, why does it struggle so hard when it comes to money?
Because money isn’t just numbers and budgets. It’s history. It’s identity. It’s power, trust, and emotional safety. It’s the story we’ve lived—and the one we’re still writing together.
Over the next few posts, we’ll unpack why money is such a loaded topic—and how to make those conversations easier, more connected, and a little less terrifying.
Because while love can conquer a lot, it doesn’t pay the bills (#FlyingLizards). And besides—it shouldn’t have to.
You don’t need a spreadsheet. You need a brave conversation.
You’ve probably heard it—or maybe even said it: “She just loves to splurge.” Or maybe: “He’s such a tightwad.”
But what if arguments about money aren’t really about money at all—but about power, priorities, and feeling seen?
A friend recently suggested that women overspend while men think more economically. It’s a common belief—but is it true? And even more importantly: is that really the problem?
What the Data Says
Spoiler: it’s not about handbags vs. hardware.
Yes, men and women spend differently. But here’s what that actually means:
Women tend to spend more on household goods, children, groceries, and caregiving—often because they do more of the caregiving.
Men tend to spend more on big-ticket items like electronics, sporting events, and automobiles. Spoiler alert: a kayak, a new phone, and playoff tickets will run you a bit more than some candles and concealer.
Now here’s where it gets good:
Men are more likely to stay within a budget.
Women are more likely to set the budget in the first place.
So the guy sticking to the budget? Often working off her spreadsheet.
And yes, women go over budget more frequently—but often because they’re shouldering more of the single-parenting, elder care, and daily survival costs. Their spending isn’t about impulse. It’s about responsibility.
In short: it’s complicated. (Click here for the long version.)
Arguments about money are rarely about who bought what, for how much. They’re about who gets to decide what matters.
Two Options
Before you judge your partner’s purchases, understand what they’re actually buying.
A new outfit might be about self-worth.
That new game console might be about freedom, escapism—or maybe even avoidance.
The fifth kitchen gadget? Could be about trying to get it all done when there aren’t enough hours in the day.
The fancy candle? Maybe it’s about peace in a house full of chaos.
The spend is never the full story.
If you’re worried about how your partner spends, here are two options:
Set up a budget with separate “fun money”
Create a shared household fund for essentials, and individual monthly “no-questions-asked” spending accounts. If he wants a fur-lined bathtub, that’s his call. If she wants an electric dog tooth polisher, that’s hers. (Yes, those are real things. We Googled.)
Celebrate the diversity of your choices—and make sure the dog’s teeth aren’t polishing the bathtub.
Be curious. Not critical.
Don’t ask, “Why did you buy that?” Instead, be curious. Explore:
“What’s important to you about this?”
“What were you hoping to feel?”
Your partner isn’t the enemy, and you’re not a prosecutorial version of Judge Judy with a joint checking account.
Your partner’s spending reflects who they are—and guess what? You picked ’em. So put down the gavel and use the moment to learn a little bit more about your partner..
Once you’re able to appreciate them for who they are, it’ll also make it a lot easier for them to understand why you spent $12,000 on that hallway portrait that “just spoke to you.”
Bottom line: If the fight about spending is actually a fight about feeling seen, no spreadsheet is going to save you.
Polyamory isn’t a free-for-all. It runs on honesty, emotional intelligence, and calendars. When it works, it’s expansive, connective, and healing. When it breaks down, it’s usually because someone skipped one of these:
Communicate Until It’s Boring
More people = more chances for misalignment. “Good communication” doesn’t just mean talking a lot — it means being assertive (even when it’s hard) and attuned (especially when it’s hard). That means sharing what’s real for you — whether you’re in love, in lust, or in pain — and tuning in to your partners’ feelings, not just their words.
Define What Counts as Cheating
Open ≠ poly ≠ monogamish. One partner might think hooking up with someone new is no big deal — the other might call it betrayal. Just because you’re non-monogamous doesn’t mean you’re on the same page. Spell out what’s in bounds, what’s out, and what happens if someone crosses the line. And be specific: for some, sex without emotional connection is fine — but emotional intimacy with someone else might feel like a breach. Others are the opposite. Clarify it. Early and often.
Own Your Jealousy Without Blame
Jealousy isn’t a flaw — it’s information. It might signal a need for reassurance, a broken agreement, or an old wound asking for care. Don’t shame it. Don’t weaponize it. Instead, get curious: What story is being told? What story is being heard? Handled with honesty and explored with curiosity, jealousy can bring the kind of clarity, communication, and closeness that make relationships better.
Bow to the Calendar Gods
Yes, everyone has a calendar — but in poly, your calendar becomes a living, breathing statement of values. Time is one of the clearest ways we express love, prioritize connection, and build trust. If you’re not thoughtful about how time is shared, someone’s going to feel like leftovers. Scheduling also protects solo time, prevents burnout, and avoids last-minute emotional landmines. Good calendaring isn’t overkill — it’s part of how consent and consideration show up in daily life.
Do Your Inner Work
Poly can bring up your “stuff”: insecurity, fear of abandonment, people-pleasing, control. Even if you think you’re immune, you’re probably not. If you don’t tend to your emotional backpack, you’ll end up handing it to someone else — probably a partner you care about. Do your work. Therapy helps. Journaling helps. Honest conversations with yourself help. Don’t outsource your healing to the people you’re dating.
Power Without Awareness Is Just Pressure
Whether or not you’re into kink, polyamory often echoes power dynamics — who initiates, who decides, who leads. Too often, one partner (usually the more experienced or confident one) sets the pace while another quietly tries to keep up. Especially in D/s or top/bottom dynamics, this can get messy fast. Just because someone says yes doesn’t mean they’re not overextending themselves to stay close. If your desire feels like a freight train, check who’s on the tracks. A “yes” is good — but an enthusiastic, informed yes with real buy-in? That’s where the magic happens.
Want your poly relationships to thrive?
Then go beyond rules and roles. Speak up. Listen close. Let communication and calendars build trust. Define your lines — and respect them. Let jealousy teach you something useful. Do your own work so your partners don’t have to carry it.
And if you’re holding power, use it with care. Because the point isn’t just freedom. It’s depth. It’s joy. It’s connection — chosen, earned, and real.
If you’re tired of fighting with your partner and feeling worse afterward—this post is for you.
We’ve all learned how to fight. No, I don’t mean Krav Maga. Not karate. And not food fights à la Animal House.
I’m talking about the relationship stuff—the tried-and-true guerrilla (and open warfare) tactics we picked up growing up.
You probably absorbed your first conflict style without even knowing it—sitting at the dinner table as a kid, listening to adults slam doors, simmer in silence, or ramble about problems no one even remembered two hours later.
Maybe in your house, no one raised their voice—but no one talked about anything real, either. Maybe “winning” meant controlling the narrative. Maybe it meant disappearing.
However it looked, it became the foundation for your playbook. And whether you were the loud one, the wallflower, or the peacemaker, chances are good you’re still using a version of that playbook today.
The Problem: Those “Skills” Don’t Work When Both People Matter.
They may have helped you survive childhood—but they don’t help you build a loving, caring relationship.
Here’s how they fail:
If you fight to win, the relationship loses.
If you avoid all conflict, nothing ever gets resolved.
If you stay silent to keep the peace, your resentment will find its way out eventually—probably sideways.
So: what does work?
Let’s reframe what conflict actually brings us.
Conflict Isn’t a Battle to Win. It’s an Invitation to Understand.
Yeah, I know—easier said than done.
But if you can move from me vs. you to us vs. the problem, something shifts. Curiosity opens up. Defensiveness starts to drop. You stop keeping score and start asking better questions.
Like:
What’s actually bothering you?
What’s underneath the anger?
What are we each afraid of losing?
What needs aren’t being met?
What are we really arguing about?
The “fight” becomes a conversation.
We decide that the commitment to the relationship is more important than being right. We remove ourselves from the roles of judge and prosecutor, and sit with our partner with openness, concern, and just enough bravery to stay in it.
It makes the relationship stronger, not weaker. It creates safety. It creates space for authenticity and intimacy.
The Truth About “Healthy” Couples
Some people think that happy couples never argue. That’s a myth.
Put two humans under the same roof long enough, and sparks will fly. Conflict isn’t the problem—unspoken conflict is. Or worse: conflict that goes unresolved, festers, and turns into contempt.
Here’s the real secret: conflict can be a gift.
A chance to learn more about your partner. A chance to practice honesty. A chance to grow closer—not further apart.
The Next Time You Argue…
Treat it like a signal, not a threat. Ask yourself:
What am I really feeling?
What is my partner trying to show me?
How can we both walk away from this feeling more connected—not less?
And hey, maybe wait ’til morning.
Have some coffee. Or tea. Or a croissant the size of your face. Start the day with kindness. Then roll up your sleeves and get to work—together.
Because in the end:
The goal isn’t to win the fight. It’s to make sure there’s still someone holding you close when it’s over.
Trauma doesn’t just live in memories. It lives in nervous systems, in relationship patterns, in how we show up—or shut down—with the people we love.
Trauma is passed down generation after generation. More than a personal wound, it becomes culture. Family legacy. Emotional DNA.
For anyone with a trauma history, the story that follows may feel familiar.
Meet Alex
Alex is in the midst of yet another breakup.
Despite having a kind heart and good intentions, he’s found himself unable to sustain relationships. He’s been married multiple times, and each time, the pattern repeats: initial closeness, then growing distance, misunderstandings, and eventually—separation.
Now, he finds himself distant not only from his former partners but also from his children, unsure how to bridge the gap. And, thanks to his low self-worth and fear of vulnerability, unwilling to try.
But wait—what trauma?
Alex doesn’t consider himself to be a trauma victim. But trauma doesn’t always show up as a single, dramatic event. Sometimes it’s the slow drip of emotional neglect. Sometimes it’s growing up in a household where feelings weren’t safe, or where connection was inconsistent. Sometimes, it’s what happens when well intentioned parents aren’t able to “be there” for their children. Often, we don’t even realize we’ve been impacted—because what we experienced was “normal” — to us.
But our nervous systems remember. And so do our relationships.
This Didn’t Start With Alex
His patterns aren’t mysteries. They’re the natural consequence of an emotional lineage that began long before he was born.
Alex didn’t land in this moment by accident.
His parents did their best. But their best was shaped by what they survived—not by what they healed.
A Father Who Disappeared in Place
His father was physically present but emotionally absent. Approval was rare. “I love you” never came. What he offered instead were long evenings of television, obsessions with sports, and alcohol-fueled silence. When life hurt, he numbed.
A Mother Who Equated Vulnerability with Danger
Alex’s mother praised performance. She worked hard to keep him safe—but emotional safety was not part of the package. She’d been raised in a world where vulnerability invited attack, and poverty meant hunger. Her survival depended on staying in control.
What Got Passed Down
So she passed on her survival strategy:
Stay in line.
Achieve.
Stay safe.
Don’t feel too much.
Don’t need too much.
And love? Love is something you earn. Over and over again.
What Alex Learned
He learned that:
Closeness isn’t safe
Vulnerability opens the door to abandonment or judgment
Affection is conditional—and approval fleeting
These lessons didn’t come in lectures. They came in the silences. In the way emotions were handled—or not handled—at home.
What Alex carries today isn’t his fault. It’s emotional inheritance.
The Part Most People Don’t Know
Most of what drives Alex’s adult behaviors was set long before he could even form memories. The emotional system that governs attachment, fear, and connection is shaped in the earliest years of life—before the thinking brain is fully online.
The prefrontal cortex, which helps with self-awareness and decision-making, doesn’t even begin to mature until around age 7. Before that? The amygdala is in charge. That’s the part of the brain responsible for threat detection, emotional memory, and survival responses.
In other words: Alex’s shutdown response may have been shaped before he ever spoke a full sentence. And because memory is language-based, it’s not unusual that he doesn’t remember why he reacts the way he does. The imprint is real—it’s just preverbal.
Patterns in the Present
AKA: The Closer He Gets, The More He Shuts Down
Like most of us, Alex wants intimacy. But the closer he gets to it, the more his emotional inheritance kicks in—and quietly sabotages everything.
He doesn’t panic when someone gets too close. He shuts down. Subtly. Quietly. Completely.
And not just during conflict. Even joy, tenderness, and peace feel unsafe. His nervous system reads them as threats.
Those moments of emotional openness trigger something deep inside him: This is dangerous.
Doing Instead of Feeling
So, he throws himself into tasks. He fixes things. He performs. He shows love through doing—through devotion, duty, and responsibility.
It looks like connection. It looks like love. But it’s not intimacy. It’s avoidance wearing a responsible man’s clothes.
The Cost of Overfunctioning
All that doing? It leads to exhaustion, not closeness. Exhaustion leads to resentment. Resentment leads to shutdown.
His partner doesn’t understand what changed. But for Alex, nothing changed. This is just how it goes.
Never Enough, No Matter What He Does
He presses on, convinced that if he just does more, he’ll finally be good enough. But no matter how much he gives, it never fills the void. Because somewhere deep inside, Alex doesn’t believe he deserves love.
The Missing Skill: Boundaries
And nowhere along the way did anyone teach him how to set healthy boundaries. Not with others. Not with himself. He’s not selfish. He’s unpracticed.
And So the Cycle Continues
He does too much. He burns out. He withdraws. His partner finally has enough—and leaves.
Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
These aren’t character flaws. They’re survival strategies dressed up as personality traits. They helped him once. Now, they’re hurting the people he loves—and leaving him alone.
Zooming Out: Trauma’s Hidden Repetition
Alex’s story is specific—but not unique. Many people with multigenerational trauma carry similar burdens into their relationships, shaped by:
Emotional suppression
Hypervigilance
Conflict avoidance or aggression
Fear of vulnerability
Distrust of closeness
Difficulty naming or asking for what they need
Low self-esteem
They may:
Express love through over-functioning and perfectionism
Shut down emotionally when things get “too good”
Repeat push-pull conflict patterns
Struggle with boundaries
Live with a sense of always being “too much” or “not enough”
These are not failures of character. They’re inherited survival strategies. But left unexamined, they don’t protect intimacy—they poison it.
Breaking the Cycle
This cycle isn’t passed down out of malice. It’s passed down because it’s invisible. Because it’s what we know. Because it’s what we adapted to in order to survive.
Most of us aren’t aware of the impact our trauma has on how we love. We’re no more aware of it than we are of the air we breathe.
But just like breath, awareness changes everything.
The Power of Awareness
Mindfulness helps us notice when we’re holding our breath. In the same way, it helps us notice when we’re repeating patterns that hurt us.
Awareness gives us space. Space gives us choice. And that’s how cycles break—not all at once, but one moment at a time.
Tiny Moments of Change
One moment of saying, “I’m shutting down—and I don’t want to.”
One moment of asking, “What do I actually need right now?”
One moment of setting a boundary, even when it feels terrifying
One moment of choosing to stay, to speak, to soften
Healing doesn’t erase the past. But it interrupts the transmission. It says: This pain stops with me.
Hope Is Contagious, Too
Just like trauma, healing is contagious. When you show up differently in your relationships, others feel it. When you name your needs and listen without armor, your children feel it. When you model repair, softness, and vulnerability—people absorb it.
The most powerful legacy you can leave isn’t perfection. It’s awareness.
It’s the courage to face what you were never taught to face.
That’s how we stop handing trauma to the next generation. That’s how we start handing down something better.
