No one has perfect self-awareness. If someone claims they can flawlessly express every thought, feeling, and emotion while factoring in their own past and present struggles—and ensuring nothing is misunderstood—I’d love for them to share their secret with me. Our brains aren’t like computers that process emotions in neat, logical steps. Emotions and thoughts are messy, shifting with time and context. We don’t control emotions so much as experience them—after all, we’ve all felt something without consciously producing it.
That’s why it’s important to stay curious about what’s happening in our minds and hearts. Often, something that feels clear in our heads might sound completely different when spoken out loud. In any relationship, it’s crucial to allow each other the space to take back what was said—not to dodge accountability, but to refine and clarify what we truly mean. Sometimes, speaking a thought out loud helps us realize it doesn’t match what we’re actually feeling or trying to convey. This isn’t about getting it right the first time—it’s about getting to the heart of what you really mean.
When you’ve known someone for a long time, it’s easy to feel like you have them all figured out: “He always does this, she always says that, he likes this, she doesn’t like that.” But here’s the thing—people are complicated. We’re full of unique traits, quirks, memories, and personalities. We’re shaped by our past and present, and all of these elements are constantly changing.
Instead of leaning on assumptions, consider the possibility that you don’t know your partner as well as you think. This mindset opens the door to curiosity and interest. Ask yourself, who is this person in front of me, and how can I keep learning about them? When you let go of assumptions, you’re more likely to notice and appreciate the ways your partner grows and evolves.
This approach also strengthens emotional intimacy. The curiosity and excitement that fuel the honeymoon phase of a relationship don’t have to completely fade over time. Instead, they can mature and deepen—like a fine bottle of Port—enriching your connection as the years go by.
We often fail to address the core root of issues or the underlying needs behind our feelings. Instead, we focus on the surface-level aspects of conflicts. Taking the time to understand my own needs allows me to communicate them more clearly to my partner, rather than expecting them to instinctively know—or worse, assuming they are solely responsible for meeting those needs.
How can I expect my partner to know what I need if, when I’m honest with myself, I’m not even sure what I need or why I need it? Getting to the heart of a need means going beyond simple requests. For example, instead of saying, “I need you to buy me flowers,” I could ask myself, “Why does receiving flowers matter to me?”
Communicating the deeper need—“I need to feel thought of and appreciated”—helps both me and my partner understand what’s truly important. When my partner buys me flowers, it’s not because flowers are the need itself but because they represent a way of saying, “I’m thinking about you.”
My partner is not responsible for meeting my needs—that responsibility lies with me. But they can come alongside me, offer support, and engage in actions or behaviors that help me feel understood.
Assume for a moment that the reason you feel a certain way is more complex than “my partner did (or didn’t do) this, therefore, I feel this.” Occam’s Razor, a philosophical guideline, suggests that the simplest explanation is usually correct. While this principle is helpful in many areas, including psychology, it may fall short when applied to human relationships.
Human emotions and behavior are rarely straightforward. Sometimes, I may not fully understand why I acted a certain way or why I felt a certain emotion until I take time to reflect—or until someone helps me see it. What if we instead embraced the complexity of our emotions and relationships? By doing so, both partners can take responsibility for their roles in any given dynamic.
This mindset fosters curiosity and a willingness to question our blind spots. The person who feels hurt might ask, “Why did I react that way? What’s beneath this feeling?” Meanwhile, the person who caused hurt might reflect, “Why didn’t I notice this might be hurtful? Or why did I act in a way that caused pain?”
In a world where the reigning narrative insists it’s everyone else’s job to avoid offending me, it’s tough to stop and think: “Hey, maybe my life would improve if I weren’t offended by every single thing my partner (or friend, colleague, family member) said or did!” Becoming less offendable does more than lighten your emotional load; it ensures arguments with your partner don’t spiral into the unhelpful abyss of petty grievances.
This isn’t a free pass to ditch all social decorum or sensitivity. Speaking in a way your partner can actually hear is still crucial. Preaching, ranting, or hurling insults isn’t honesty—it’s just noise. If we can teach kids that saying please and thank you is the bare minimum for not being a jerk in society, surely we can agree those rules also work wonders in adult relationships.
Imagine a world where you don’t magically have the perfect solution for every issue in your relationship. Instead, you have to rely on conversations—or even arguments—as opportunities to uncover new perspectives, identify potential changes, or discover paths forward.
Conflict isn’t always just a problem to solve; it’s a dance, full of emotional nuance that, when explored, can strengthen understanding. Solutions often emerge naturally when the focus shifts from “fixing” to understanding. By prioritizing deeper insight into ourselves and our partners, we create space for meaningful and lasting resolutions to surface.
It’s an odd thing to say, “I didn’t mean to do that.” Intentions don’t matter nearly as much as the impact of your actions. Good intentions are only meaningful if your behavior aligns with them—and with the needs of the person you’re dealing with.
Instead of saying, “I didn’t mean to,” try this: “I clearly have the capacity to do what you’re telling me I did. I need to own that and figure out what’s going on.” Your intentions don’t erase the damage—they only matter if they fuel meaningful action to make things right.
