Is there a one-size-fits-all answer to cheating suspicions? Nope. Not even close. But that doesn’t mean your gut’s useless — just that context is everything.
Let’s start with that “gut feeling.” Should you trust it or write it off as paranoia? That depends on who trained your gut. If you grew up around infidelity or relational chaos, your internal radar might be hyperactive — tuned to false alarms. On the flip side, if you were raised in a world of stable, trustworthy relationships, you might not notice warning signs even if they’re skywriting over your house. So, no, don’t dismiss the gut. But don’t worship it, either. It’s a clue, not a conclusion.
So what should you actually look for?
Ask yourself: Do you know where your partner’s time, energy, and money are going? Are those resources shrinking when it comes to you? Do you know what lights them up, where they’re spending emotional currency? These aren’t accusations — they’re important relationship barometers. If you’re unsure, ask.
Is it ever okay to act on a hunch?
Sure. Just don’t go straight to hiring a PI and downloading spyware. Instead, try: “Hey, I’ve been feeling off — insecure, a little lost. Can we check in about where we stand?” That’s acting on a hunch with curiosity and courage, not suspicion and judgment. Be brave enough to start the conversation.
But how do you do it without seeming distrustful?
Spoiler: if you’re suspicious, you’re already distrustful. Don’t fake trust you don’t have. It doesn’t make you look emotionally mature — it makes you look emotionally manipulative. Own your feelings. If your relationship is healthy, your partner should be able to hear you out without turning it into a courtroom drama.
In summary: Gut feelings deserve respect, but not blind obedience. If your spidey-sense is tingling, know yourself before you confront someone else. Accusations of cheating are serious. But so is letting your anxiety rot the relationship from the inside out. The only thing worse than bringing it up is pretending it’s not there.
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.
I was talking with a friend the other day, and he was wondering out loud: Why do women so often say men don’t understand them? It struck me as a fair question. I get a lot of business due to couples having problems communicating with – understanding – each other. No matter how we define or construe gender, there always seem to be misunderstandings.
In popular culture—and often in my therapy office—men are frequently framed as emotionally out of touch. Unwilling, or maybe unable, to engage with nuance. It’s a stereotype, sure, but one that resonates with many people’s lived experiences.
As the conversation continued, my friend shifted gears. He talked about how society seems to be cheering for women in ways that feel visible and celebrated—more women in college, more women starting businesses, more women in leadership. And he’s right: there’s real movement happening.
But alongside that progress, he said, men’s struggles often feel minimized or ignored. That left him—and maybe others—feeling unsure of their place. Like they’re showing up, doing the work, but no one’s really noticing.
Then he said something that gave me pause:“Women don’t seem to understand that men want respect and admiration.”In contrast, he felt women often want to feel emotionally understood.
That idea—respect vs. understanding—may not be universal, but itisfamiliar. And while research suggests there are some gendered trends in emotional needs, the bigger truth is this: we’re all shaped by more than our gender. Culture, upbringing, life experience—all of it influences how we show up in relationships.
Still, I don’t think my friend was trying to win an argument. I think he was trying to name something he hadn’t quite said out loud before.
In a culture that increasingly centers women’s voices and progress, some men feel unseen, unneeded, or emotionally irrelevant. Women, in seeking emotional understanding, may overlook that men often experience love not through emotional decoding but through expressions of respect, trust, and admiration. The communication gap isn’t just between two people—it’s between two social narratives.
And when those narratives collide—when one partner is seeking emotional resonance and the other is longing to feel respected—we get tension, disconnection, and the all-too-familiar “You don’t get me” loop.
But here’s the good news: understanding and respect aren’t mutually exclusive. They’re just different doors to the same room. Relationships thrive when we stop assuming the other person should love like we do, and instead get curious about what love looks like to them.
So I turned to my friend after we’d had this conversation and told him I respect where he’s coming from. I said I hoped he was feeling seen and heard in his relationship—and then I asked if he felt respected. If he felt like the people in his life really got him.
Sure enough, he said no. He felt misunderstood. Maybe underappreciated for all the work he does. I validated that—because it’s real.
And then I asked the payoff question: “What would you like to do about it?”
As he started to talk about the changes he might make, I thought to myself, Be careful what you wish for. And then I wished him well.
If we can stay curious about each other, we’ve got a shot at getting it right.
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.
A friend recently asked me to revisit a blog post I wrote called Relationships and Power. His takeaway?
“Everything in life is a negotiation.”
He’s not wrong—relational dynamics do involve give and take. But he went further, suggesting that couples should approach negotiations from a clear-headed, unemotional place to achieve outcomes that are fair to both partners.
I respect the intent. But I think there are a couple of problems with this idea when applied to intimate relationships.
First, the word “negotiation” carries baggage. It suggests tactics, strategy, maybe even a little manipulation. But when it comes to intimacy, we’re not aiming for leverage—we’re aiming for closeness. Vulnerability. Trust. Trying to “win” with your partner is a great way to lose the relationship.
Second, there’s an often-unspoken assumption baked into the negotiation model: that both partners are equal. Equal in voice, in privilege, in power. But life—and relationships—aren’t always that balanced. Power often follows privilege: money, time, gender roles, emotional availability. And when one partner has more of those resources, guess who usually wins the “negotiation”? (Hint: not the one doing the laundry.)
Which brings me to another issue: all too often, the person who cares most about a task ends up doing it—by default, not by discussion. According to a 2023 Pew Research Center study, in marriages where both spouses earn about the same, women still spend significantly more time on caregiving and housework. And when no one’s talking about it, resentment builds quietly—until it doesn’t.
So yes, there is a place for negotiation in relationships. Someone has to figure out who’s putting the kids to bed, who’s paying the bills, who’s folding the towels (or pretending to fold them until someone else refolds them correctly).
But here’s the thing: negotiate like partners, not opponents. In business, a good negotiation ends in profit. In a relationship, a “win” often means someone loses trust or intimacy.
Try this instead:
✅ Talk it out—even when it’s uncomfortable
❌ Don’t hide from conflict or assume your partner “should just know”
✅ Be transparent and curious about what each of you needs
In therapy, I often hear frustration from people who feel their partner is overly controlling or stifling, preventing them from being their true selves. Lately, the buzzword seems to be “narcissist,” but relationship dynamics are rarely that simple.
Healthy relationships rely on mutual respect and balance. Many of us unknowingly carry patterns from our families into romantic relationships. Perhaps we learned that love comes from being quiet, compliant, or pleasing. Or maybe the only way to gain attention was to dominate and control. Both roles carry significant risks.
If you’re consistently compliant and pleasing, you’ll eventually feel invisible and resentful. Even dedicated people-pleasers reach a breaking point of exhaustion. Conversely, always trying to control outcomes leaves you frustrated and disappointed, because life—and partners—rarely align perfectly with expectations.
Power dynamics in relationships are often subtle and unspoken, marked by quiet manipulations—what I call “the iron fist in the velvet glove.” Many individuals fear pushing back or speaking up, believing it might risk their relationship. Yet, suppressing your voice long-term inevitably leads to resentment, tension, and mistrust.
Power exchanges can be healthy if openly discussed and consensual, with both partners feeling genuinely valued. Regardless of the dynamic, mutual appreciation and authenticity are essential.
There’s no single formula for a perfect relationship; each one is uniquely shaped by the individuals involved. However, relationships fail when only one partner is truly seen and heard.
If you habitually defer, start advocating for yourself in small ways—express your preferences, set boundaries, and speak honestly. Though initially uncomfortable, these actions can greatly strengthen your sense of self and the relationship itself.
Conversely, if controlling outcomes leaves you exhausted, consider stepping back and letting go of expectations. The relief you feel might surprise you.
As Abraham Lincoln famously said, “A house divided against itself cannot stand.” Relationships, too, depend on unity, authenticity, and mutual respect to thrive.
A recent study from Sentio University found that nearly half of people experiencing mental health challenges are turning to AI chatbots, such as ChatGPT, for support. AI can be helpful for structured interventions like Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT), psychoeducation, and self-regulation strategies. Apps that guide breathing exercises, track moods, or even offer scripted relationship advice can provide useful tools for individuals and couples.
But here’s the thing: if these approaches worked on their own, my clients wouldn’t be in therapy. Many of the couples and individuals I work with have already tried self-help apps, mindfulness exercises, and AI-guided interventions. While useful, these tools often fall short because they lack the very thing that makes therapy transformational—real human connection.
The Human Edge: Why Therapy Is More Than Techniques
AI can analyze language, provide insights, and even simulate warmth. But what it cannot do is attune to the complex emotional dynamics in relationships. When couples struggle, it’s rarely just about communication techniques—it’s about how they experience each other emotionally. That’s something AI simply can’t perceive.
Transference, Countertransference, and the AI Gap
Transference happens in all relationships—it’s the way we unknowingly transfer past relationship experiences onto our current ones, including with our partners. In therapy, I notice countertransference—my emotional reaction to a client—which can help me understand deeper patterns at play.
Let’s say a couple comes to therapy because one partner always feels dismissed, and the other feels unfairly blamed. AI might suggest “active listening” techniques—but if I, as the therapist, start to feel pushed away or blamed, that reaction tells me something deeper is happening. The way I feel in the session often mirrors what happens in their relationship. That insight allows me to guide them toward real change—something an AI therapist could never detect.
AI as a Tool, Not a Therapist
AI can help couples learn skills, but therapy about more than skills—it’s about transformation. Couples don’t just need better conflict resolution tools; they need a space where they feel deeply heard and understood, where they recognize how their past experiences shape their present struggles.
So, while AI can support mental health and relationships in practical ways, it cannot replace the emotional depth, attunement, and real-time relational feedback that human therapists provide. The difference isn’t just what we do—it’s who we are. And no AI can replicate that.
Life can feel like an endless to-do list. Between errands, chasing kids around, demanding work schedules, and maintaining a household, it’s easy to let your relationship take a backseat. Date nights might occasionally break up the routine, but lasting relationships require something deeper—a long-term glue that holds you together beyond just the next evening out.
What if that glue is your shared dreams?
Think about the memorable movie “Up,” where the dream of a trip to Paradise Falls becomes a symbol of love and adventure. Just like that sweet fictional couple, each of you probably has dreams or aspirations you’ve quietly tucked away, waiting for “the right time.” But here’s the secret: the right time is now.
When you carve out intentional moments to sit down together—without distractions, screens off, favorite beverages in hand—you can discover incredible insights into your partner’s hopes and aspirations. Conversations about your five-year or ten-year visions, even retirement dreams, can open doors to deeper connection and understanding.
When you dream together, you build a life that’s richer and more fulfilling than either of you could achieve alone. A strong “we” is almost always greater than “me.”
Pro Tip! Four Ways to Support Each Other’s Dreams:
Financially: Support your partner’s dreams by planning and managing resources together.
Emotionally: Be encouraging during their successes and a steady presence through challenges.
Logistically: Help manage daily responsibilities, giving your partner space to focus on their goals.
By Participating: Join your partner in their passions, creating memorable, shared experiences that strengthen your bond.
Your relationship thrives when you intentionally dream together and actively support each other’s journeys.
I’ve been working with couples who have weathered deep, painful conflicts and are trying to rebuild connection, trust, and intimacy. The wounds have been treated, but they’re still tender. They want to reconnect but find themselves hesitant—after so much tension and pain, it’s hard to open up again, to be vulnerable.
One of the most overlooked yet powerful ways to reconnect? Make a commitment to spend intentional time together—BEING with each other and DOING things together.
Many couples don’t drift apart because of a single crisis, but because they stop prioritizing their relationship in the daily grind. Work, kids, responsibilities—they all demand attention, and without realizing it, partners start living parallel lives instead of intertwined ones. Quality time gets reduced to zoning out in front of a screen. And while “Netflix and chill” has its place, passive time together does not build connection.
What sorts of things will build intimacy and closeness for you and yours? That depends on what you’re comfortable with—but playing it too safe is a mistake. Let loose, take some risks, and try any of these suggestions—or come up with your own!
🔥 Make sparks fly—literally. Grab a Wint-O-Green Life Saver, turn off the lights, and bite down together to see the flash. It’s science and magic.
🎶 Dance in the kitchen. Whether you’ve got rhythm or not, turn up a song you both love and move together while cooking or cleaning. A spontaneous dip or twirl earns bonus points.
🎨 Finger paint…on each other. Let go of expectations and just have fun making a mess. Who knows? You might discover a hidden artistic talent.
🍷 Wine tasting. Whiskey tasting. Beer tasting. You get the idea. Share the experience using all five senses (flavors, the textures, etc.) Bonus points for mentioning the memories they evoke.
🌊 Water balloon toss—indoors or out. Fill a balloon with just a little water and see how long you can toss it without popping. Outside, all bets are off.
🖐️ Clay challenge. Grab some air-dry clay and sculpt something for each other—a goofy animal, a meaningful symbol, or just whatever makes you both laugh. If that’s too much, pick up some Play-Doh and create something magical.
The goal isn’t perfection. It’s presence. It’s engagement. It’s connection.
Intimacy and closeness don’t happen without commitment. If you want to feel close again, you have to show up for each other—physically, mentally, and emotionally. If you start smiling together again, if you find laughter in the little things—you’re on your way to healing.
Conflict Isn’t Just Personal—It’s Primal
