BridgeBox Family

My husband, Loren, and I had an argument last week. It was a rough one.

After more than 11 years together, we’ve had our fair share of arguments and breakthroughs/breakdowns. We’ve also had our fair share of counseling and therapy sessions that taught us how to communicate effectively with each other. There were times we’ve even stopped mid-argument, pulled out our therapist’s communication worksheet, and grumbled and stumbled our way through an awkward (to us) script. Over the years, conversations became a lot less awkward as we’ve practiced these crucial skills. 

One thing that I learned very early on was that the thing you’re arguing about is rarely about the thing you’re actually arguing about. 

This week’s argument was no different. Loren felt like I wasn’t supporting him like he wanted to be supported. I felt like he wasn’t seeing all the ways I do support him. It’s a really painful place to be for both of us. I hate that we keep coming back to this same argument over and over.  

The solution seems clear. One of us either needs to change or come to terms with the fact that our partner will never be what we need them to be, so we end it. 

But the idea of ending a marriage brings absolutely zero relief. Then again, I am so sick of this argument. When I’m in it, I truly feel sick, and I don’t want to do it anymore. 

But as I was earnestly trying my best to find the missing piece, I looked to the source. What belief is actually talking here? I wrote the following message to Loren:

You seem to believe: “Love anticipates my needs.” I seem to believe: “Love accepts that we’re different.” Neither belief is wrong. But we have been fighting against each other with these beliefs for years; one partner feels chronically unsupported, and the other feels chronically unaccepted.

When you don’t get the kind of help you want, you experience it as: “I’m alone. My partner isn’t with me.” When I hear that my help isn’t enough, I experience it as: “Who I am is not enough. I have to become someone else to be loved.” No matter how much I give, the conversation always comes back to what I’m not giving.

You keep asking me to become your ideal teammate. I’m asking you to love the teammate you actually married.

Do you believe there is a version of me—as I actually am—that could make you feel like we’re a team? Or do you believe I need to become someone who naturally thinks and acts the way you do for this marriage to work?”

Here’s what I learned from this experience. Loren and I don’t see the world as it is. We see the world as WE are. We look through a lens of childhood hurts and beliefs. Until those wounds are fully healed, we will keep having the same argument over and over again. 

Which, in the moment, feels extremely frustrating. It feels like it’s always going to be this way. Yet, when I look back on the past 11 years, a lot has changed. We’ve evolved and have grown. We are stronger and continue to fall deeper and deeper in love. But the arguments that keep repeating themselves in different fonts – those hurts are deeper. 

This argument was no different. Our core beliefs were running the show. It felt like the more he defended his view, the less I felt understood. So I did what I thought I had to do: keep defending my viewpoint. Try to prove to him that I’m enough (something I learned in my youth). 

Once I recognized the underlying fear, the source of the pain and upset, it didn’t take long for us to soften enough to put down our weapons and listen. On the surface, an argument may sound like people defending the need to be right. But in my experience, most arguments are really about the need to be seen.

The question I posed to Loren was my attempt to bridge the gap between his belief and mine. Could they co-exist in this relationship peacefully?

Loren is really good at anticipating needs and proactively serving others. He treats me this way because he wants to be treated that way. I am really good at appreciating and working with other people’s differences. I treat him this way because it’s the way I want to be treated. When these deep-seated values aren’t reciprocated, we are both left feeling wanting; wishing that our partner would love us the way we want to be loved. When expectations aren’t met, it’s difficult to feel loved. 

It’s funny how the things we believe are the truest test of love seem to be what’s lacking in our partner. The things we apparently desire most aren’t always present, and so upset follows. But maybe, on an even deeper level, we chose partners that remind us of someone we used to know, whose love we craved most. So we intentionally chose partners who trigger these hurts in order to re-write old stories and produce a different outcome. 

I long to be loved and adored just as I am because growing up with criticism and correction was a familiar pastime when what I truly needed was acceptance. Perhaps I chose Loren because if I could change Loren’s mind about me- that not having expectations was the true meaning of love, that it would somehow heal that hurt in me. 

For Loren, love feels like someone stepping in to help before he has to ask. Growing up in a home where everyone did their own thing, he often felt alone. For him, love would be a partner who worked alongside him and built something with him, and yet he chose a partner who likes independent work, who likes spending time writing, reflecting, and thinking deeply. So when he senses any level of resistance from me when it comes to helping him, he’s again reminded of that childhood hurt. 

Does that mean our marriage is doomed? Is the foundation, the source, a reminder of love out of our reach?

It very well could be. And I believe many walk away from their marriages for similar reasons. But I’m afraid that if hurts are not healed, we will just keep choosing people whose love “feels like home.” And, to be fair, that could be a wonderful feeling if home were a wonderful place. But if not, then those relationships will probably end up the same way – another failed attempt to rewrite the past in the present. 

Pure love has no agenda. It questions its motives and painful beliefs. Even those beliefs that, as a whole, are true. Love is anticipating needs, and Love is accepting and honoring differences. There’s no war here. It’s all truth. And truth does not need to be defended.  

At the heart of Loren and me is a pure love. I can be my true self with him, and he accepts me completely. I see evidence of that every day. At times, Loren carries the quiet weight that so many men do—the pressure to be strong, provide, and shoulder life’s burdens without asking for help. There is often a silent loneliness in believing you have to carry it all on your own.

It’s no wonder he feels deeply loved when someone notices the weight he’s carrying and steps in to help before he has to ask.

When you feel seen and understood, you heal. When someone sees you and does their very best to love you the way you want to be loved, that’s healing too.

So how do you make sure the source of your relationship is pure love? 

When an argument arises, find the source of the hurt. Once you see the hurt, name it; it loses its power. 

As Michael A. Singer in his book The Untethered Soul said, “Fear doesn’t want to feel itself; it’s actually afraid of itself.”

The more you name it, the more you expose it, the less power it has over you and the faster you will be able to get out of the past and back into pure love in the present.

Eventually, you’ll stop subconsciously sabotaging your partner to prove that they are indeed a poor teammate, but instead vulnerably speak your needs. And you’ll stop the urge to protect yourself and allow your partner the space to share their experience without needing to fix it.

Anyone unwilling to find the source of their pain is unwilling to love purely. In that mindset, there is no hope for improvement. Some people would rather be right, would rather blame, would rather bulldoze, than point the finger back at themselves. The truest test of love is not proving your partner wrong; it’s being able to share your source of pain and work together on how you can better support each other moving forward.   

Finding the source is how you heal. Sharing the source is how you move forward.