How to STOP Fighting in your Relationship!

Today my aim is to transform how you handle conflict in your close relationships. We’re not talking about “punching” fights away — rather, we’re going to learn to manage disagreements in ways that are safe, constructive, and life-giving. If you never learn these skills, I’m afraid your relationship will wither even if you technically remain together. Without communication and the ability to resolve conflict, couples drift apart, start to feel like roommates, and lose the closeness they once had. I know this because I learned it the hard way: my marriage nearly collapsed before I realized how badly we were handling conflict, and I don’t want you to travel down that road. My goal is to help you get what you most likely want from your relationship — to feel close, wanted, respected, valued, and loved — and to show you how those things depend on how you talk and fight, not simply on intent or affection.
When my partner Emily and I entered counseling, we discovered that both of us, without meaning to, had damaged our marriage through years of unhealthy conflict habits. Together we reached a stark conclusion: if we were going to rescue our marriage, we had to rebuild how we communicated and how we fought. That meant dismantling our default reactions and the stories we told ourselves about conflict — the fears, the assumptions, the ways we repaired (or failed to repair) the damage. For us, old patterns didn’t lead to repair; they led to widening distance. If you’re watching this now, consider this the warning I didn’t get: you don’t need to wait for a crisis — an affair, a separation, or living miserably together — to begin this work. It’s fixable, but it requires effort, cooperation, and intentional practice from both partners.
Start now by having a calm, mature conversation about how you will handle conflict going forward. Agree ahead of time how you want disagreements to be raised and resolved. Discuss what you already do well and what needs improvement. Set boundaries around name-calling and shouting. Talk about how to bring up issues respectfully. If attempting that kind of conversation always dissolves into another fight for you, please consider professional help — your relationship may depend on it. If both of you are willing, begin by answering a simple question: should your partner be allowed to tell you when they’re hurt or dissatisfied and expect to be heard and understood? If you say yes, understand that it asks something of you: it requires that you not punish them for being vulnerable. You probably won’t enjoy every complaint, and you certainly won’t like realizing you caused pain — but are you prepared to handle those moments in a way that protects closeness? I wasn’t, and I believe that the future of a relationship is decided in these small, crucial moments. Those are the opportunities to reestablish trust and care — or, if handled poorly, to teach your partner not to rely on you.
Therapist Sue Johnson’s work highlights what’s often beneath arguments: one partner wondering, “Does my partner truly care? Can I count on them when I’m scared, hurt, or angry?” It’s our responsibility, during conflict, to answer that question with reassurance: yes, you can depend on me; your feelings matter; vulnerability won’t be punished. John Gray’s Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus frames a familiar dynamic this way: when one person shares upset feelings, the other often hears criticism and responds defensively, which then leaves the first person feeling unloved. Gray argues that a relationship succeeds when one partner can listen with warmth and respect and the other can express feelings in a loving way. This dynamic is not strictly about gender — swap “man” and “woman” for “partner,” and the idea still fits: one person brings up a concern and the other either shuts it down or battles back, and both end up feeling unheard and attacked.
Emily and I made a pact that I want every couple should consider: be a safe place for one another. If one of us feels hurt, disrespected, or neglected, those feelings are not a burden — they’re real and they matter. We decided to keep short accounts: don’t pile resentments up and avoid hard conversations out of fear of the other’s reaction. If one of us raises an issue, we hold each other to doing it respectfully and vulnerably — no passive-aggression, no blame, no contempt. And we agreed to receive complaints without instinctive defensiveness or dismissal. Will you agree to that too? This isn’t about perfection; it’s about direction and intentionality. I still mess up, but I’m open to being lovingly corrected, I own my role, apologize where appropriate, and ask what I can do to repair the damage. When both partners are willing to do that, a lot can change.
Some of you — especially men in heterosexual relationships — may fear that giving your partner permission to complain means they’ll wield that permission as a weapon, constantly listing your faults. That fear often points to a deeper issue: a lack of trust that your partner won’t weaponize vulnerability. You can’t build safety, intimacy, or respect if one person feels they will be punished for showing pain, or if the other feels they must walk on eggshells to avoid being attacked. If that describes your relationship, please consider counseling. If you’re dating and your partner won’t attend counseling together and you don’t have children with them, it may be worth rethinking the relationship — you deserve better than chronic invalidation.
This is not a call to create a culture of constant complaining or negativity. Using your partner as an emotional punching bag is destructive and usually comes from insecurity and selfishness. Be discerning about what matters and how to bring things up. But equally, don’t bury important issues out of fear. Both extremes — perpetual criticism on the one hand and total avoidance of hard conversations on the other — lead away from the relationship you want. For us, building trust and safety meant being deliberate: challenging our default reactions, holding ourselves accountable, learning vulnerability and self-reflection, and redefining what respect and honor look like during conflict. It also meant accepting that love alone is not enough. You can love someone deeply but still damage the relationship if you name-call, belittle, or dismiss them when tensions rise. Healthy, secure, mutually satisfying relationships require effort and humility, not pride or laziness.
Here’s practical guidance for the person bringing up a complaint, delivered in a respectful, vulnerable way that owns your feelings and focuses on the present issue instead of listing a dozen past grievances. Start with an opening like, “Hey, can I talk to you about something?” That signals you care about their state of mind. If they’re emotionally unable to engage in that moment, accept it — but ask them to reschedule; when people brush concerns aside it communicates a lack of consideration. If they can talk, try something like: “I know work has been intense and I appreciate everything you’re doing. I don’t think you’re doing this on purpose, but lately I’ve been feeling neglected. I miss how we used to hug before work and kiss goodnight. It feels like you’ve been on your laptop so much that we barely talk, and I’ve felt abandoned and rejected.” Notice there’s no name-calling, blame, or contempt. You give the benefit of the doubt, state your feelings, and assume your partner cares. Saying “You’re selfish” or “You’re neglecting me” is more likely to provoke denial than reflection. People can more easily engage with “I feel neglected” than with a wholesale accusation. It’s courageous to share vulnerable feelings, and we should never punish that.
Conflict itself is unavoidable and not inherently harmful. It becomes harmful when avoided or handled poorly. The goals in any disagreement are safety, trust, honesty, respect, and mutual concern for one another’s experience. If those are your aims, conflict can actually draw you closer instead of pushing you apart. Life brings many pressures — work, kids, aging parents, stress, personal histories — and none of those will have a neutral effect on your relationship. That’s why being proactive matters: check in with each other, keep short accounts, create emotional safety, intentionally prioritize your partner, and listen for the hurt and unmet needs beneath complaints. Love isn’t proven by words alone but by the consistent willingness to do the often-uncomfortable work of connection.
Research by Dr. John Gottman analyzed thousands of couples and found he could predict divorce with high accuracy by the persistent presence of four corrosive behaviors in conflict: defensiveness, criticism, contempt, and stonewalling. We’re all capable of falling into these habits sometimes, but their cumulative effect is poisonous. That’s why marriage experts warn against them: they destroy closeness. The hard part is that we often can’t see these flaws in ourselves; self-reflection is essential. When one partner points out defensiveness, most would reflexively deny it. Two things may be happening: either the other person truly is attacking unfairly — in which case you shouldn’t stay in a conversation where you’re being abused — or you’re carrying unhealed wounds from the past that make you read even mild negative emotion as a personal attack. Those wounds can send you into automatic defensive modes that push your partner away instead of comforting them.
Defensiveness makes a partner feel unheard and alone. Criticism feels attacking and belittling. Contempt conveys disgust and superiority. Stonewalling abandons the other person emotionally. These behaviors often arise because vulnerability feels dangerous; we’d rather be passive-aggressive or critical than admit we’re in pain and need help. Healthy interdependence means needing one another in robust, secure ways — leaning on each other appropriately and trusting each other with pain. For many couples, therapy is the place to untangle old coping mechanisms that once kept you safe but now harm your relationship. You have to learn to notice how your body reacts when triggered — increased heart rate, flushed face, raised voice, arguing and interrupting — and have the courage to do something different.
When you notice a conversation is escalating, it’s wise to call a timeout: “Hold on — I think we’re getting heated. Let’s take 30 minutes and come back to this.” Saying that doesn’t mean you’re avoiding responsibility; it means you value the relationship more than winning an argument in an overheated moment. From a boundaries perspective, make clear ahead of time what’s unacceptable: chronic name-calling, yelling, or repeated invalidation should have consequences, like pausing or leaving the conversation. Boundaries aren’t about controlling the other person — they’re about deciding how much of your time, attention, and emotional energy you’ll allow in light of destructive behavior. No one deserves to be routinely yelled at or demeaned. If you are in an unsafe situation, prioritize your safety: get out and seek help from professionals or authorities.
On the receiving end of a complaint, your aim should be to listen to understand. Choose curiosity over defensiveness, try to see the situation from their perspective, and ask one or two clarifying questions: “What led you to feel that way?” Resist launching into defenses and justifications that communicate you already know best. That sort of quick rebuttal is invalidation — it tells your partner their feelings aren’t legitimate and leads them to feel abandoned. Instead, hold space: make eye contact, follow the story, nod sometimes, and say things like “I can see why you’d feel that way.” If you worry that validating them will mean you’re being walked over, then there are deeper trust issues to address. Validation is not the same as agreement. You can acknowledge the reality of someone’s feelings without conceding that every interpretation or accusation is accurate.
If you don’t agree that your partner was intentionally disrespectful, you can still honor how hurt they felt: “I don’t think you intentionally disrespected me” is different from “Your feelings don’t matter.” When someone shares a hurt, it helps to empathize and then offer tangible repair: apologize for any part you played, explain how you’ll change, and propose specific gestures — “I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intention. I’ll make more of an effort to hug you before work and kiss you goodnight. How about I plan a date night Friday and we get childcare?” Those actions show you take their experience seriously.
Once you’ve validated and addressed what they’ve shared, ask if there’s anything else on their heart. That question says, “Your feelings are more important than my discomfort.” Many people want to shut the conversation down as soon as possible because it’s uncomfortable, but pausing to invite anything else communicates priority and care. Imagine two people who habitually treated each other this way: there’d be no need to yell to be heard, no incentive to accuse or inflate complaints to get attention, and less reason to become defensive. If both partners truly believed the other cared and wanted to repair, fights would rarely escalate to the toxic patterns that erode intimacy.
Make weekly check-ins a habit: ask, “Is there anything on your heart? Were there moments this week when you felt loved or prioritized? Is there anything I could do differently?” Regular, brave conversations like that create emotional safety, trust, intimacy, and friendship. They prevent the slow drift apart that happens when life’s pressures accumulate. Move intentionally toward one another with consideration and vulnerability — be honest, but also kind and respectful. Don’t wait as long as I did to learn how vital this is. Thank you for listening; I’ll see you next time — and yes, I’ll try to be more concise, but there’s just a lot to say. Thanks to everyone who stayed until the end.