When your partner says that thing in that tone—and you feel the urge to shut down, snap, or launch a well-rehearsed monologue—there’s one move that can change everything: curiosity.
Curiosity in conflict is a game changer. It slows down reactivity. It invites understanding. And it builds connection right where disconnection usually takes root. Asking yourself questions like “What just triggered me?” or “What’s really going on here?” doesn’t just buy you time—it quiets the amygdala and activates your prefrontal cortex. That’s not just insight. That’s neuroscience.
And when that same curiosity is directed toward your partner? It’s magic. Real listening—listening without mentally drafting your comeback—signals safety, empathy, and emotional availability. It creates the kind of bond that no amount of “I love you” can fake.
According to a recent article in National Geographic, this goes far beyond relationships. People who experience regular states of interest—curiosity in action—report greater life satisfaction, more positive emotion, lower anxiety, and stronger relationships. They even laugh more. (Turns out we laugh 30 times more when we’re with others than when we’re alone. Why? Because laughter, like curiosity, is social glue.)
Curiosity isn’t just a nice-to-have. It’s a practice. And in your most reactive moments, it might be the most powerful one you’ve got.
In my office, I see a lot of couples who love each other—but can’t stop fighting. And couples who’ve stopped fighting because they’ve shut down emotionally. Sound familiar?
It’s easy to think conflict is about personality differences. But honestly? Much of what we struggle with in relationships is baked into human nature—the same wiring that drives large-scale conflict, division, and tribalism.
Ancient Wiring, Modern Fights
We live in a loud, angry, divided world. Everyone’s shouting, no one’s listening, and we’ve all retreated into our camps—online and off.
The same instincts show up in our intimate relationships. Minor disagreements can trigger ancient systems that read conflict as danger, invoking the “fight or flight” response. That’s why a small argument—about tone, timing, or whose turn it is to unload the dishwasher—can feel like a threat, and turn you into something less than the best version of yourself.
Rodney King Was Right to Ask
In 1992, Rodney King—bruised and humiliated—stood in front of a microphone and asked, “Can we all get along?”
A reasonable question. But history—and therapy rooms—suggest the answer is often no.
And here’s why: our brains have evolved to scan for danger and label difference. That wiring helped us survive. But it also fuels conflict at every level—global, social, and personal.
Fear is Louder Than Empathy
When we face loss, change, scarcity, or inequality, we don’t instinctively reach for connection. We reach for control. For blame. For distance. And yes, that’s true whether we’re talking about geopolitics… or who left the door unlocked.
Even when we say “forgive and forget,” we rarely do either. Wounds don’t vanish just because a new day starts. And so we begin the next day a little more guarded, a little less open—trying to protect ourselves with control. But in relationships, reactive or defensive control blocks connection.
It’s easier to defend than to ask, “What am I missing here?” It’s easier to shut down than to risk being misunderstood again.
So no, we haven’t learned to get along—not as a species, and not always in our partnerships.
But speaking of evolution, we rose to the top of the food chain because of opposable thumbs and our ability to think and change our behavior. We can choose to show up differently.
What You Can Actually Do About It
Start small:
Listen more than you talk.
Get curious instead of defensive.
Validate what you don’t yet understand.
Try something new in how you show up—even if it doesn’t come naturally.
We don’t need easier. We need better. And better starts with us.
If you’re wondering how to make your world less hostile, less lonely, less divided—start with the people right in front of you.
That includes empathy and boundaries. Love without boundaries burns out. Boundaries without love isolate.
We need both. And it starts with us.
PS: If you’re trying to raise children with skills around empathy, boundaries, and compassion, you may find information in the video I made for Authority Magazine useful.
When someone begins the journey of healing, it’s often because past pain has started to echo into their present—especially in their closest relationships.
I know this firsthand.
After surviving childhood abuse, I struggled for years to feel truly safe with anyone.
Even when I found someone kind and patient, I couldn’t let my guard down.
Everything felt like a potential threat—an argument, a misunderstood text, even a surprise hug.
Trauma has a way of making your nervous system feel like it’s constantly on red alert, even when there’s no real danger anymore.
That’s the hard truth: trauma changes how we connect with others.
It interrupts our ability to trust, to be vulnerable, and to feel secure in love.
And these effects don’t go away just because we’ve found the “right” person.
If this sounds familiar, working with the right therapist – a therapist trained and experienced in the ways trauma impacts relationships – can make a world of difference.
They help untangle the past from the present, so love doesn’t always feel like a battlefield.
Trauma and the Body: Why Safety Comes First
Before we even think about love, the body wants to feel safe.
But trauma—especially developmental trauma—rewires our brain and nervous system.
It’s like driving a car with the brakes stuck on.
You want to move forward, but something’s always holding you back.
This internal braking system shows up in relationships as shutdowns, dissociation, and withdrawal.
Or, on the flip side, it can look like panic, rage, and hypervigilance.
These reactions aren’t choices—they’re survival strategies.
If you’ve ever found yourself saying, “I don’t know why I reacted like that”, you’re not alone.
The truth is, your body probably responded before your brain even had time to catch up.
That’s why somatic approaches in therapy are often crucial.
A good trauma-informed therapist will focus on restoring regulation—helping the body relearn what calm and connection feel like.
Because love can’t thrive where safety is missing.
The Invisible Impact on Communication
One of the most subtle ways trauma affects relationships is in how we speak and listen.
I used to assume people were mad at me even when they weren’t.
A neutral tone of voice? I’d hear judgment.
A pause in conversation? I’d assume rejection.
Trauma primes us to expect harm, even when there’s none.
This makes honest communication incredibly difficult.
We either silence ourselves to avoid conflict, or we speak from a place of defense.
That’s why so many trauma survivors feel misunderstood or isolated—even in long-term relationships.
Therapists trained in trauma recovery often use attachment-based methods to repair this.
They assist clients in identifying triggers and provide tools to respond rather than react.
Over time, that rewiring builds emotional resilience—and relationships that can weather conflict instead of collapsing under it.
Intimacy Triggers: When Touch Isn’t Comforting
For many trauma survivors, physical touch—something that should be soothing—can become complicated.
This is especially true if the trauma involved the body or boundaries being violated.
Even something as simple as cuddling can feel threatening.
I once dated someone who couldn’t understand why I froze every time he touched my back unexpectedly.
It wasn’t about him—it was about memories my body hadn’t let go of.
This is where trauma-informed couples therapy can help both partners.
It creates a language around triggers, so there’s less shame and confusion.
You learn to ask for what you need, whether it’s slower pacing, more verbal reassurance, or clear physical boundaries.
And in doing that, you reclaim agency over your own body.
You redefine what safety feels like—on your terms.
Why Relationships Often Feel “Too Much” or “Not Enough”
One common pattern I’ve seen—and lived—is the cycle of pushing people away just when they get close.
You crave intimacy but panic when it shows up.
Or you feel nothing when someone finally gives you the love you wanted.
This push-pull dynamic is often rooted in attachment wounds.
If your early relationships taught you that love equals danger, then closeness becomes confusing.
Healing this isn’t about just “thinking positively.”
It takes repeated, safe relational experiences—often beginning in the therapy room.
A skilled trauma recovery specialist will model the kind of consistent, nonjudgmental presence that helps reset your attachment system.
From there, you learn how to tolerate closeness without feeling overwhelmed.
And slowly, connection starts to feel possible again.
Real-Life Healing Is Messy—But Worth It
I won’t sugarcoat it.
Healing from trauma is uncomfortable, especially when it touches your romantic life.
It brings up grief for the versions of love you didn’t get.
It forces you to confront old beliefs like “I’m too much” or “I’m unlovable.”
But it also opens the door to new possibilities.
I’ve seen people go from being emotionally shut down to laughing freely with a partner.
I’ve watched someone who thought they could “never trust again” walk down the aisle.
That kind of growth doesn’t happen overnight.
But with the right guidance, it’s absolutely possible.
The Role of a Therapist in Relationship Healing
A trauma recovery therapist does more than just talk through your past.
They guide you in real-time through the relational patterns that are playing out today.
They notice when you shut down, help you unpack why, and offer new ways of relating that feel safer.
They don’t just analyze—they attune.
They provide a reparative relationship that lays the foundation for healthier ones outside the therapy room.
And if you’re partnered, they can help your loved one understand what trauma does to the brain, body, and heart.
That kind of education builds empathy—and empathy builds intimacy.
Healing Isn’t Linear, But It’s Possible
You might still have days where love feels unsafe.
Where trust feels fragile and your instincts tell you to retreat.
That’s normal.
Healing isn’t about becoming someone who’s “never triggered.”
It’s about learning how to stay present when you are.
It’s about knowing that you’re more than your trauma—and that your relationships can reflect that too.
If you have trauma in your history, know that your past is very likely impacting your present, and not in a good way. Working with a therapist that understands the impact of trauma on relationships has helped countless people move from survival mode into connection.
And you deserve that kind of love—safe, honest, and rooted in your healing.
Steven Kilmann, LMFT, MD, began his career in medicine after studying psychology at the University of Michigan and earning his medical degree from USC, ultimately serving over a decade as a physician at Cedars-Sinai. After facing burnout and addiction during a creative pivot, his journey through recovery led him to his true purpose—supporting others as a licensed therapist with a Master’s in Psychology from Antioch University.
Last week in my office, a husband sat across from me, clearly frustrated and agitated. His words came out fast and loud. “What can I say to get her to listen?” he asked, exasperated.
But here was the problem: his wife, sitting just a few feet away, was trying to listen. In fact, she’d been trying to speak for several minutes, but his rapid-fire interruptions kept cutting her off. I could see her shutting down, overwhelmed by the verbal onslaught.
After several attempts to slow him down, I raised my voice. “LISTEN TO HER.”
That got his attention. He stopped, giving his wife space to express her thoughts. The dynamic shifted.
This situation plays out in relationships all the time. One person feels unheard and ramps up their efforts to communicate. The other person, feeling overwhelmed, retreats or disengages. It’s a vicious cycle. And while the urge to demand attention is natural, it often has the opposite effect – it drowns the other person out.
What Can We Do Differently?
Dr. John Gottman, a relationship expert known for his decades of research, offers practical tools for managing conflict and communication. If you find yourself asking why your partner isn’t listening, he suggests asking yourself this: Are you listening to them?
Accept your partner’s influence by creating space for their feelings and desires. When you dominate the conversation, the message your partner hears is “my way or the highway.” Nothing good comes from that.
Not every issue in a relationship can be neatly solved. People who are successful in relationships understand that keeping an open dialogue prevents small issues from becoming bigger ones.
Pro Tip: Pay Attention to Yourself.
When conversations heat up, it’s easy to become emotionally overwhelmed. Your heart races, your muscles tense, and suddenly you’re in fight-or-flight mode. If you don’t recognize your emotional state, your brain shifts into survival gear.
In those moments, take a break. Step away for 20-30 minutes, do something calming, and return when you’re ready to engage without defensiveness.
Start Softly
When you come back to the conversation, Start Softly. Begin difficult conversations with a gentle approach. Use “I” statements to express needs, like “I’m frustrated because I’m doing as much as I can, and it never seems like it’s enough. I need you to acknowledge that I’m trying.”
The cartoon that inspired this blog might be a little bit over the top. Even so, it’s a complaint I’ve listened to many times:
WHY WON’T SHE JUST LISTEN?
The irony is clear. The louder he shouts, the less he’s heard. The answer might not lie in talking more or “saying the right thing.” Often, it begins with listening – really listening – to the person sitting across from us.
Next time you feel unheard, pause. Ask yourself if you’re making space for your partner to speak. The shift may start with you.
I was interviewed by LucentTALKS about aggression.
What is aggression? What are the warning signs? How do you know if you’re overly aggressive? What are the “red flags” to be “on the lookout for” in your partner?
If you’re interested, here is what I had to say (it’s a two part interview):
Conflict Isn’t Just Personal—It’s Primal
