Category: Anger Management

Does your anger make you do things you later regret?

Why Couples Drift Apart Even When They Love Each Other

The problem isn’t conflict. The problem is avoidance.

Let’s talk relationships

Last week I closed the files on three couples. No affairs. No screaming matches. Just good people who loved each other and somehow kept missing each other. Different stories, different struggles.

In each case, the partners were trying hard to get the other person to understand what mattered to them. The turning point came when they slowed down enough to listen. Once that happened, something else became possible: each partner could risk letting the other person see what lay underneath the argument.

Helping bring about that shift is a big part of relationship therapy. What follows are a few vignettes of how it sometimes happens in the room.

These vignettes are representative composites rather than descriptions of any single couple. Details have been changed to protect confidentiality while illustrating real patterns from my practice.

When Integrity Turns Into Intensity

One couple came in because one partner felt a powerful responsibility to confront things that felt wrong—whether in politics, family dynamics, or everyday life. From his perspective, speaking up wasn’t anger; it was integrity. But the intensity of that stance was slowly pushing the relationship into a corner.

The breakthrough came when he began to see something he hadn’t fully understood before: not just his intention, but the impact of that intensity on the person most important to him.

Once he began slowing himself down, the dynamic between them shifted. The emotional temperature dropped. Safety emerged. The quieter partner—who had spent years managing the intensity around her—started speaking more openly, even confidently. She questioned him, pushed back, even laughed more easily. As conversations became calmer and more honest, both partners began understanding each other more clearly, allowing the relationship to grow closer and more intimate.

When Anger Feels Like Identity

The first couple needed to lower the emotional temperature.

The next couple had already done that. Their relationship was calm, cooperative, and highly functional. They trusted each other completely with the logistics of life.

But emotional trust was harder to reach because one partner carried anger differently. Growing up, opinions and emotions were punished, and he fought hard to keep anger as part of who he was. To him it wasn’t just a feeling—it was integrity, proof that he could stand his ground.

His partner experienced that anger very differently. Patience and kindness were part of her nature, and for a long time she absorbed the intensity rather than challenging it.

What shifted was his realization that the very qualities that drew him so strongly to her—her steadiness, her kindness—were also the qualities his anger was putting at risk.

As he slowed down and trusted that he could be heard without blowing up, she didn’t retreat. She stayed, and became more open, more willing to take emotional risks. And in that steadiness, a deeper kind of trust began to grow—one that allowed both of them to speak more honestly and connect more closely than before.

When Life Crowds Out the Relationship

The third couple didn’t struggle with anger or emotional withdrawal. Their challenge was something I’ve seen more often than you might expect: two capable people whose busy, successful lives had, over time, put the relationship on the back burner. They came in looking for a way to turn the heat back up.

Both were deeply committed to the relationship, but their lives had gradually organized themselves around work, responsibility, and getting things done. When stress rose, the instinct for both of them was the same: push forward and handle the next task. Over time, that habit left less and less room for the relationship itself.

Important conversations kept getting postponed. They wanted a family, but the years were passing and no real steps were being taken. Each felt the pressure in different ways, but neither quite knew how to turn the momentum of their lives toward each other long enough to address it together.

What helped was recognizing that the distance between them wasn’t about lack of love or commitment. It was about attention. Once they began making room for the conversations they had been putting off—and the decisions they had been postponing—they were better able to see the trust and commitment that had always been there. The connection they were looking for had never disappeared; it had simply been crowded out by everything else.

Different Problems, Same Turning Point

Looking back at these three couples, what stands out isn’t that they had the same problem. They didn’t.

One struggled with intensity that overwhelmed the relationship.
Another was navigating what it meant to hold onto a hard-won sense of self without damaging the connection that mattered most.
The third had quietly allowed careers, obligations, and forward momentum to crowd out the conversations that would shape their future together.

As it is with icebergs, what appeared on the surface was only a part of the story.

The Whole Story Is Always Much Deeper

There’s a common stereotype that couples come to therapy because they’re constantly arguing and can’t get along.

What made these three couples interesting is that none of them would have described their relationship that way. Arguments weren’t the hallmark of their relationships. In different ways, all three couples had actually gotten quite good at avoiding them.

Even so, the relationships weren’t working.

What began to emerge in the room were deeper questions—questions that many couples wrestle with quietly long before they ever walk into a therapist’s office:

Can I actually be who I am in this relationship, or do parts of me have to shrink for it to work?
If I show you what really matters to me—my fears, my convictions, the parts of me that are rough around the edges—will you still want to be here?
And if we keep living the way we are now… is this really the life I want to be building?

When couples slow down enough to listen, those deeper questions finally have space to emerge. And when they do, something important shifts. The argument stops being about winning a point and starts becoming a conversation about what really matters.

That’s where the real work of a relationship begins—and often, where the relationship can begin moving forward again.

Most couples don’t need a different partner.
They need a different conversation.

Feelings Are Feminine

The right tool for the right job.

Yes, there it is: I said it.

But I’m not the first to say it. This is a message that gets repeated for men and boys countless times, and countless ways.
“Ignore the pain.”
“Get a job.”
“Get over it.”
“Man up.”

And much worse.

I’ll tread carefully here. This is a gendered topic, and those can get overheated fast.

You could argue it’s better to avoid it. But when you see the same pattern week after week in your office, avoidance stops being helpful.

At some point, it needs to be named.

A man comes in because his relationship is struggling. He cares about his partner. He wants things to be better. He’s trying. And still, his partner has a list of complaints:

“I don’t feel connected to you.”
“You’re too angry.”
“You don’t open up.”
“I don’t feel like you really see me.”

His thoughts are confused. From his perspective, he’s showing up. He’s thinking about the relationship. He’s trying to solve the problems. He’s loyal. He’s present.

What’s worse is what he’s feeling: helplessness. Worse than that: he can’t identify the feeling other than discomfort leading to irritation leading to defensiveness. The path from defensiveness to anger is short.

It makes no sense to him why all the work he’s doing isn’t translating into connection—and, at times, still leaves him feeling unseen or unappreciated.

Thinking Instead of Feeling

Men learn early that feelings are feminine. If they let themselves experience—or worse, express—feelings, they risk being seen as weak.

So they adapt.

They analyze.
They problem-solve.
They try to “fix” things.

Valuable skills. Helpful, certainly.

But connection—the kind that sustains intimacy—is not primarily a thinking process. It’s an emotional one.

If you can’t access your own emotional experience, it becomes very difficult to attune to someone else’s.

That’s not a character flaw. That’s a skill gap.

How We Got Here

The Gottman Institute recently wrote about how boys are often taught, directly and indirectly, to move away from their emotional experience.

This isn’t just cultural commentary. There is research behind it.

A large body of developmental research shows that gender differences in emotional expression are not present at birth, but emerge over time through socialization—what boys and girls are taught is acceptable to feel and show.

By early childhood, boys are already being steered toward externalizing emotions like anger, while girls are more supported in expressing sadness, empathy, and vulnerability.

And those patterns matter, because emotional expression is not just “nice to have”—it’s tied directly to social competence and relationship functioning.

There’s Even a Name for It

When someone has difficulty identifying and expressing their emotions, we call that alexithymia.

Plain English: “I feel something… but I have no idea what it is.”

That doesn’t mean the feelings aren’t there.
It means they were never learned, named, or practiced.

And if you can’t identify what you feel, you can’t share it.
And if you can’t share it, your partner can’t feel connected to you.

This Is Gonna Hurt

When emotional awareness is limited, relationships feel it.

If you can’t clearly identify what you’re feeling:

It’s harder to communicate it
It’s harder to stay present with someone else’s emotions
It’s easier to default to thinking instead of feeling

Your partner experiences that as distance. Yes, you care, but they can’t feel it.

When thinking replaces feeling, conversations start to look like this:

logical instead of emotional
solutions instead of connection
explanations and defensiveness instead of shared experience

Now you have all the ingredients for escalation—and all the offramps are still “under construction”.

Why Anger Becomes the Go-To

Short version: for many men, the first response to relational stress isn’t anger—it’s avoidance. Work, screens, distraction, staying busy—anything that keeps them from having to sit with what they’re feeling.

That can work for a while.

But when avoidance stops working—when the pressure builds or the relationship pushes for connection—something has to come out. And often, what comes out is anger. For some men, it’s the safest emotion available. For others, it’s the only one they know how to access.

Yes, that sounds backwards.

But vulnerability—fear, hurt, shame—has often been met with ridicule or rejection. Anger, on the other hand, is familiar, accessible, and even socially permitted. So it becomes the default.

Underneath anger, there’s usually:

hurt
fear
shame
disappointment

When those emotions aren’t accessible, anger ends up carrying the load—and that creates problems in relationships.

Emotionally Blind—and In a Bind

This is the part we don’t talk about enough.

Many men were never taught how to be emotionally aware or expressive, and then, as adults, they’re expected to be emotionally attuned partners. That’s a tough transition—even if there were a clear roadmap. And there isn’t one.

So men do what they’ve been trained to do: they try to solve an emotional problem using the tools they have. They think harder, analyze more, and try to figure it out.

But emotional connection isn’t something you can think your way into. It’s something you have to feel your way into.

And if you were never taught how to do that, it’s frustrating—for the men I see in my office, and frankly, for me too.

Speaking of the Therapy Office

If a man is struggling with emotional connection, intimacy, or communication, the question often comes up: is this individual work, or couples work?

The answer is: it depends.

If anger is severe—or if safety is a concern—individual work needs to come first. But for many couples, the issue isn’t danger. It’s disconnection. And connection is a relational skill, which means it often develops best in a relational setting.

Couples therapy gives people a chance to practice things that are hard to learn alone: staying present with emotion, expressing vulnerability, and responding to a partner in real time. Those are not abstract skills. They are lived, relational experiences.

Regardless of where the work happens, the core is the same: staying in the conversation when it feels uncomfortable, saying the thing that feels awkward, and allowing emotion to be present without immediately trying to fix it.

That’s the work.

If You’re a Man Reading This

If any of this resonates, there’s nothing “wrong” with you. You learned what you were taught. But those lessons may not serve you in the kind of relationship you actually want.

The good news is that these are skills, and skills can be learned. Emotional awareness is learnable. Connection is learnable. Intimacy is learnable.

You don’t have to become a different man. You become a more capable one.

If You’re Seeing Your Man in This

This may help explain what you’re experiencing. It doesn’t excuse harmful behavior, but it can help make sense of the gap.

What looks like disinterest is often limited access. And that can change—but only if he’s willing to do the work.

Until then, your role may need to be different: clarity about what you need, boundaries around what you will and won’t accept, and a willingness not to over-function on his behalf.

You can’t do his work for him.

The Bottom Line

We ask men today to be:

strong
capable
reliable
and emotionally present

That last one requires a skill set many men were never taught.

But it can be learned.

And when it is—it changes everything.

Boundaries: They Don’t Work Until You Do

This Post Is for People Who Struggle to Set and Keep Boundaries

Chatting with William

This post isn’t about how to set boundaries. I’ve already written that.

But my friend William—thoughtful, kind, and a former therapist himself—explained to me after reading that piece to say, gently, that something was missing. Not wrong. Incomplete.

Specifically: what has to happen inside before boundaries work on the outside.

A Thoughtful Challenge From a Friend

William has lived a lot of life. He’s not interested in winning arguments—he notices patterns, reflects on them, and then says something that makes you pause.

That’s what he did here.

He pointed out that boundaries haven’t always occupied the central place they do now in psychotherapy. Early therapy focused more on intrapsychic boundaries—ego, superego, conscious and unconscious. The interpersonal boundary boom really took off later, especially in the 1980s and 90s, alongside 12-step work and increased attention to addiction, abuse, and trauma.

Fair point.

But then he named something more important.

The Shadow Side of Boundary Setting

William described watching people set boundaries with pressured speech, fear in their eyes, sometimes even rage—like they were bracing for a fight. Less self-respect, more defensive maneuver. He wondered whether some boundary setting was really about control, or about a frightened part of ourselves trying desperately not to get hurt again.

I didn’t disagree.

I’ve seen people avoid boundaries because they’re afraid of the reaction they’ll get. Afraid someone will get angry. Afraid the relationship will change. Afraid something long-standing might fall apart. These are often relationships with history—family, partners, people who’ve been around for decades.

That fear keeps people from doing what needs to be done. By keeping the smaller peace, they set the stage for a biggerwar—one that tends to break out later, louder, and uglier.

I can’t tell you how often I’ve said this in my office: Good fences make good neighbors. Good boundaries make good relationships.

And if a relationship can’t survive a boundary around something you truly can’t live with? That’s not a failure. Painful, yes—but also clarifying. Why are you working so hard to preserve a relationship that only functions if you keep abandoning yourself?

As God told Abraham in Genesis 12:1: Get thee out.

Why Late Boundaries Turn Into Rage

When William mentioned rage, it might have sounded like an exaggeration. It isn’t.

If you don’t set boundaries, people will take advantage of you. Call it fair or unfair—it doesn’t matter. Humans do what humans do, usually without much awareness of why they’re doing it.

As toes get stepped on again and again, resentment builds. When resentment builds long enough, it hardens into anger. And when anger goes unaddressed, it turns into rage.

At that point, boundaries finally get set—but they’re explosive, damaging, and hard to sustain. They’re powered by emotion rather than conviction. Once the emotional surge fades, the boundary collapses.

The way to avoid rage-boundaries is simple, though not easy: set boundaries earlier.

The Boundary Is With Yourself First

This is where William shared a story that really landed.

Years ago, he called his friend David to talk through a boundary he was planning to set. David listened and then said,
“It sounds like the person you really need to be setting boundaries with is yourself.”

That’s the heart of it.

Before you say anything to someone else, you have to get clear within yourself:

What can go
What cannot go
What you are—and are not—willing to live with

When that clarity is real, it changes your presence. And that presence changes how conversations go. It even changes which conversations you decide to have at all.

William was reminded of something Louise Hay once said—paraphrased, but true to her spirit: if you don’t like what someone is doing, don’t try to change them.

Say “no thank you,” and move toward the kind of relationship and environment you want to participate in.

No drama. No punishment. Just living in line with what you’ve already decided.

Why Boundaries Fail: It’s Not the Words

The number-one reason boundaries fail is simple: they’re never actually set. They’re wished for rather than made. A close second is that they’re framed as requests instead of limits.

But even when people do everything “right,” many still assume boundaries fail because they didn’t say them properly. Wrong words. Wrong tone. Too soft. Too harsh. If only they’d rehearsed better.

In my experience, boundaries don’t fail because of wording. They fail because the person setting them doesn’t yet believe them.

You can’t hold a boundary you don’t mean.

I learned this years ago as a new parent. Our young child loved climbing into our bed at night. We said “no” and put him back—again and again. Minutes later, a warm, loving, beautiful child was right back where he wanted to be.

It wasn’t until my therapist told me—rather memorably—that boundaries are like curses in Harry Potter lore: you have to mean them.

Once the boundary was internally settled—this is no longer happening—things changed. Same words. Different intention.

Healthy Boundaries Start With Internal Conviction

The earlier post was about boundary mechanics. This one is about why boundary work keeps therapists like me fully employed.

If boundary setting feels anxious, brittle, or explosive, that’s not a sign you’re failing. It’s a sign more internal work is needed—the work of deciding, quietly and firmly, what you’re no longer available for.

Once that decision is made, boundaries tend to come out cleaner. Calmer. Less like a threat and more like a fact.

William didn’t convince me boundaries are outdated. But he did remind me—and I think he’s right—that boundaries work best when they aren’t weapons, ultimatums, or last-ditch attempts to control outcomes.

They work when they reflect something already decided inside.

And those are the boundaries that last.

Unlearning How to Fight

You Know How to Fight.
You Know How to Win.

So why does it feel like losing?

Everybody calm down!

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.

Curiosity: The Unsung Hero of Healthy Relationships

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.

Read the National Geographic article here.

Why Can’t We All Just Get Along? (And What That Has to Do with Your Relationship)

Conflict Isn’t Just Personal—It’s Primal

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.

How a History of Trauma Impacts Intimate Relationships

Guest Post by Steven Kilmann, LMFT, MD

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.

Listen To Be Heard

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.

Interviews on Aggression

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):

What is Aggression?

Is Your Partner Aggressive?