People sometimes assume I got into divorce real estate because I went through one myself. I didn’t — at least not directly. But after more than 22 years as a traditional Realtor®, I’ve watched enough home sales get tangled up in divorce to know it stays with you. Once you’ve seen it up close, you can’t really unsee it.

What I kept noticing

Early in my career, I treated the word “divorce” in a transaction like any other detail — something to note and move past. If I was representing both spouses in the sale of their home, I approached it the same way I approached any other sale.

It didn’t take long to realize something was missing from that approach.

There was nothing dramatic about it — just a series of quiet signals that this situation called for something different. I watched two people who once trusted each other completely begin second-guessing every number I gave them. I saw a spouse agree to a listing price simply to avoid another argument, not because they believed it reflected the home’s true value. And despite my best efforts to stay neutral, I sometimes found myself perceived as having taken one side over the other. That’s the part that stayed with me.

The training I’d received as a real estate agent simply wasn’t built for this kind of transaction. It assumed a buyer and seller who were largely aligned on the outcome and willing to lean on a real estate professional to guide them there together. Divorce rarely works that way. Both people still need the same facts, the same transparency, the same fair process — but they may no longer be willing to trust the same person to deliver it to both of them at once. That realization changed how I approached these transactions entirely.

The moment it clicked

There was one transaction in particular that changed how I looked at this work. I won’t get into the details, out of respect for the clients — but I watched a couple lose weeks, and a fair amount of goodwill, arguing over what their home was worth.

The value itself wasn’t really the issue. Trust was. Neither of them fully believed I could give an objective opinion without putting a thumb on the scale for the other. I was an experienced agent by that point, but nothing in my training had prepared me for two divorcing homeowners whose interests, emotions, attorneys, finances, and futures were all tangled together in one transaction. I knew how to price a home, market it, negotiate it. Divorce real estate asked for something else entirely.

That experience sat with me for a long time. I remember thinking there had to be a version of this profession built specifically for situations like this one — where the real estate professional’s value isn’t just getting a house sold, but being someone, both people can trust equally when they may no longer trust each other.

That question is what led me to the Ilumni Institute and, eventually, the Certified Divorce Real Estate Expert (CDRE®) designation. Earning it was never about padding a resume or adding a credential to my marketing materials. It was the first time I’d come across training that actually spoke to what I kept encountering in these transactions — real strategy and structure for situations that traditional real estate education simply wasn’t built to handle.

What changed

Becoming a CDRE® didn’t just add letters after my name. It changed how I do the work. Somewhere along the way, I stopped thinking of my role in these cases as “advocating” for one client. Instead, I came to see myself as a trusted neutral advisor — someone both spouses could rely on during a process that was already asking so much of them. It’s a subtle shift, but one that matters more than it might seem. When a home is part of a divorce, decisions about value, repairs, timing, communication, access, and offers can quietly become extensions of the larger conflict, even when none of them would carry that weight in a typical sale.

My job isn’t to choose a side. It’s to bring clarity, consistency, and real estate expertise to a process that can already feel like too much.

I also learned how important it is to work alongside the other professionals involved — family law attorneys, mediators, financial professionals, other neutrals — instead of operating in my own separate lane. The house doesn’t exist apart from the divorce. It touches cash flow, support calculations, debt, equity distribution, and what life looks like for both people once everything is finalized. Recognizing that bigger picture reshaped the way I approach every transaction.

The learning hasn’t stopped, either. For the past three years I’ve continued building on that foundation through the CDRE® Master Program, an advanced track that includes case studies, business planning, and ongoing education focused specifically on divorce real estate. I’ve stayed committed to it because these transactions rarely follow a standard playbook — every case brings its own mix of personalities, finances, legal considerations, and family dynamics. And the more I’ve learned, the clearer one thing has become: my role in divorce real estate isn’t simply to close a transaction. It’s to help ensure the house doesn’t become one more thing two people have to fight about while they’re already navigating one of the hardest transitions of their lives.

Finding Common Ground with the Collaborative Process

One thing I didn’t expect when I started this work was how much respect I’d develop for the collaborative divorce process itself.

There’s real value in bringing together professionals who each know their own lane but are also trained to move toward resolution rather than conflict. The goal isn’t for one side to “win” — it’s to create a process where clients can make informed decisions, with the right expertise in the room at the right time. That mindset closely mirrors how I now approach real estate in these situations. A neutral real estate professional can provide clear, reliable information about the property and the market without adding to the tension, while attorneys handle the legal side and financial professionals manage theirs. Everyone plays a defined role, and when those roles work well together, it’s the clients who come out ahead.

Why I keep doing this work

Divorce real estate isn’t the easiest niche. It asks for more patience, more composure, and a lot more listening than a typical sale. But I keep doing it because I’ve seen what it looks like when it goes right — when two people ending a marriage can still walk away from the house decision feeling like they were both treated fairly. That’s not a small thing. For a lot of clients, it’s one of the only parts of the process that felt calm.

About the Author

Shannon Lindstrom is a Realtor® with RE/MAX Results serving Minneapolis, St. Paul, and the greater Twin Cities, with a specialty in divorce real estate. As a Certified Divorce Real Estate Expert (CDRE®), Shannon helps clients navigate the sale or purchase of a home during divorce, serving as a neutral, informed resource during an often complex and emotional transition.

She works collaboratively with attorneys, mediators, financial professionals, and other members of the divorce team to help preserve home equity, reduce conflict, and support informed decision-making. Known for her direct communication and steady, detail-oriented approach, Shannon provides clients with clarity and confidence when it matters most.

Shannon is also a Certified Military Residential Specialist (MILRES), Military Relocation Professional (MRP), and Veterans Certified Real Estate Agent (VCA), bringing additional expertise to military members, veterans, and their families.

Shannon Lindstrom, Realtor®,
AHWD, CDRE®, GREEN, MILRES, MRP, VCA

RE/MAX Results
Direct: 612-616-9714 | www.ShannonLindstromRealtor.com

 

 

In my last post, on June 10, The Good News About Being Part of the Problem, I wrote about the power of seeing your own contribution to what’s going wrong in your marriage. That’s the first move. But it stays abstract until you know what you’re actually looking for.

In years of sitting with couples, I keep seeing the same handful of patterns show up — dressed differently each time, but built from the same parts. Most people don’t recognize their own until somebody names it for them. So here are eight of the most common, and a story about the one I know best, because it’s mine.

None of these are evidence of a bad partner or a bad marriage. Almost everyone reaches for them trying to feel better, get closer, or fix something that feels broken. That’s the part that surprises people most in my office: the strategy usually starts as an honest attempt to solve the problem. The trouble is that none of them actually work — and most of the time, we’re not even choosing them consciously. They’re old habits: learned in childhood, carried over from an earlier relationship, or just wired into being human when we feel scared, criticized, or unseen. You picked them up somewhere because, once, they got you something. Safety. Distance from pain. A feeling of control. The problem is they were never built for a long-term, two-person system, and inside a marriage, they quietly do more damage than the thing they were meant to fix.

Most Common Losing Strategies in Modern Marriage

  1. Unregulated venting. Everyone has feelings, and every feeling deserves a hearing. But delivered in a thoughtless, harsh, unfiltered way, it becomes hard for your partner to stay open and still listen. The feeling was legitimate. The delivery is what shuts the door. It sounds like unloading everything that’s bothered you for three weeks in one sitting, voice rising as you go, until your partner stops listening and starts defending.
  2. Being right. Arguing about whose version of the truth is correct doesn’t make you and your partner better teammates. It makes you opponents in a debate nobody really wins, even when they do. It sounds like replaying the exact wording of something said two years ago, needing your partner to admit fault before you’ll let the topic go.
  3. Shaming, humiliating, intimidating. Communicating that someone is bad, or a less desirable person. This includes ridiculing someone, mocking, being sarcastic, humoring, patronizing, or being condescending. It sounds like “that was a stupid thing to do,” delivered with a laugh so it can be waved off as a joke if you get called on it.
  4. Controlling or demanding. Unless you’re someone’s boss, or you’ve been invited to weigh in, you can’t really tell another grown person what to do, or not do. The same applies to what to think, feel, or believe. It’s controlling. You might get what you want in the short term, but it will come with a lot of resentment. Requests work a lot better than demands. It sounds like “you need to call your mother back today” instead of “would you be willing to call your mother today?” Same request. Very different reception.
  5. Telling an adult what he or she thinks. We can only speak for ourselves, and know what we alone think and feel. We cannot know that for another person, and it almost always triggers the other person when we make this assumption. It sounds like “you don’t actually care about this” or “you’re just saying that to avoid the real issue” — narrating someone else’s inner life as though you have access to it.
  6. Covert contracts. This is the one I know best, because it’s mine. A covert contract is an agreement you make in your own head and never actually say out loud — then hold your partner to anyway. It sounds like nothing at all, because it’s silent: doing the dishes every night for a month, waiting for it to be noticed and reciprocated, and quietly building a case against your partner when it isn’t.

I’m a classic pursuer. There’s a part of me — an adaptive child, formed long before I ever sat across from a couple in therapy — that wants every moment to feel meaningful and powerful. I love validation. I go looking for it, and when I don’t find it, I go looking harder.

For a long time, that meant criticizing my wife, quietly and not so quietly, for not giving me the feedback I was chasing. I’d do something thoughtful, or bring something up that mattered to me, and then wait — scanning her face, her tone, her timing, for the specific kind of enthusiastic acknowledgment I was hoping for. When it didn’t come in the form I wanted, I told myself I wasn’t being seen. I never actually said what I wanted, at a good time, in plain language. I just expected her to know, and held it against her when she didn’t. That’s a covert contract, textbook — terms she never agreed to, penalties she didn’t know she was risking.

What changed things wasn’t her. It was learning to sit back, let things happen, and focus on what I can do to love well, instead of what I’m getting back and grading. I also had to actually learn how she shows love, which looks almost nothing like what I was scanning for — steadier, quieter, less about the big meaningful moment and more about consistency I’d been too busy scorekeeping to notice. We argue less now. Not because the pattern disappeared entirely — I don’t think these things fully disappear — but because I catch it sooner, and I stopped holding her to a contract I never let her read.

  1. Retaliation or punishment. Punishing your partner through the silent treatment, insults, control, or manipulation will not heal wounds. It only makes them deeper. It sounds like going quiet for two days after a fight, not because you’re regulating, but because you want them to feel the cold.
  2. Withdrawal, avoidance, ignoring. Pulling back, avoiding the hard parts, or checking out completely may feel safer at first, but it makes it very hard to actually fix the problem. It sounds like “let’s just drop it,” said in a tone that means the opposite of resolution — the topic isn’t dropped, it’s buried.

These strategies rarely show up alone, and almost nobody uses just one. They tend to pair off, too. A pursuer chasing validation often ends up across from a partner who withdraws to get some room. Someone who demands and controls often meets someone who shuts down to avoid the fight altogether. One person’s unregulated venting can be the very thing that trains their partner toward retaliation or the silent treatment. You end up with two people, each convinced the other one started it, both technically right, and both still stuck.

They also show up because they used to work, somewhere, for someone — even if they’re not serving you or your marriage well now. A kid who got shamed into compliance learns that shame gets results. A kid who got the silent treatment learns that withdrawal is how you cope with conflict, or how you win it. None of that makes the strategy okay in your marriage today. But it does make it human, and worth some compassion as you look at it.

None of this is about which one of you is worse. It’s the same lesson as last time: once you can see the strategy clearly, you have something real to work with. Not more effort aimed at your partner. More clarity aimed at yourself.

Naming It Is the First Step, Not the Last

Reading this list and recognizing yourself in it is useful. It’s also not the same as changing the pattern. These strategies got wired in over years, sometimes decades, and they don’t unwind just because you can now put a name to them. Under stress, in the actual moment a hard conversation starts, most people default straight back to whatever strategy they know best — right up until they’ve had real practice doing something different.

That practice is most of what happens in couples therapy. Not lectures about communication, but an actual place to slow the moment down, catch the strategy as it starts, and try the alternative with someone in the room who can help you both see it clearly. It’s a lot easier to change a covert contract, or unregulated venting, or the instinct to withdraw, when you’re not doing it alone.

If you recognized yourself in one of these strategies, or you’re not sure which kind of conversation you’re ready for, I’d be glad to talk.

About the Author

For more than 25 years, Brian Burns has worked with adults navigating relationship crisis — couples questioning whether to stay together, parents struggling to co-parent after divorce, and individuals uncertain whether therapy can still help. Brian is a Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist and founder of MN Relationship Repair in Woodbury, Minnesota, specializing in couples therapy, Discernment Counseling, Collaborative Divorce coaching, and co-parenting support.

He is especially known for helping couples on the brink of divorce navigate conflict, infidelity, emotional distance, and long-standing relationship patterns. Some arrive hoping to repair the relationship; others are uncertain whether repair is possible. Brian helps couples slow down, better understand what is happening between them, and make thoughtful, informed decisions about their future.

Brian is trained in multiple models of couples therapy and Discernment Counseling. He has served as an Approved Supervisor for the Minnesota Board of Marriage and Family Therapy for more than 20 years and has held leadership roles with the Collaborative Law Institute of Minnesota, including Board Director and Co-President.

A self-described “fan of marriage,” Brian brings both honesty and accountability to his work. He is committed to helping couples strengthen relationships whenever possible and, when separation is necessary, guiding families through the process in healthier ways — especially for children.

Brian regularly teaches therapists, attorneys, and other professionals on marriage, conflict, infidelity, co-parenting, and divorce. Outside the office, he enjoys time with his wife, following the adventures of their four adult daughters, reading, and spending time outdoors.

Brian Burns, LMFT
MN Relationship Repair
brian@mnrelationshiprepair.com | 651-505-3418
https://www.mnrelationshiprepair.com/

 

I hear some version of this almost every week:  “I’ve tried everything. Nothing works. I don’t think it even matters.”

The person sitting across from me is genuinely exhausted. Not “we had a rough month” exhausted. I mean battle-worn, hope-thinning, seriously-wondering-why-they-bother exhausted. They’ve read the books. They’ve had the hard conversations — or tried to. They feel invisible in their own relationship.

And they’re not wrong that something is broken.

But here’s the thing I notice pretty quickly. While they can describe their partner’s patterns in precise detail — the dismissiveness, the defensiveness, the way every serious conversation somehow becomes about something that happened in 2019 — they don’t have a clear enough picture about what they themselves do when things go sideways. And they don’t yet fully see how much influence they still have over the part they do control.

Which is exactly where the work gets interesting.

I’m thinking about one man who came in certain that his wife simply didn’t really care about working on things. He’d tried bringing it up calmly. He’d tried not bringing it up at all. He’d started doing more around the house, planning date nights, being more patient. Nothing shifted. She was the problem. He had tried everything.

When I asked what happened in the moments things got tense, he paused.

“I get loud, sometimes,” he said. “I have a tone. I know I do. And then she shuts down completely.”

He knew this wasn’t helping. What he hadn’t quite seen was that his escalation and her shutdown were a perfectly matched pair. They had built a very efficient system together — one that left both of them exhausted and neither of them heard.

He had spent months trying to change her. He had not spent enough time thinking about his half of the equation, and just as importantly, knowing what real accountability looks like.

This is not about blame. Let me be clear about that.

Relationships in distress usually have two people doing their best with a limited set of tools. Some people go silent to avoid making things worse. Some push hard because staying quiet feels like surrendering. Some run the kindness campaign — all the right gestures, all the considerate moves — but never actually say the true things that need to be said. Too aggressive. Too passive. Too careful.

And most people are carrying some resentment they haven’t fully named. Maybe they’ve told themselves it’s fine. Maybe they’re afraid of what saying it out loud would mean. But resentment doesn’t stay quiet. It seeps into ordinary moments. A tone of voice. A flicker of something cold before you’ve even opened your mouth. The benign question that somehow lands like an accusation. Resentment corrupts.

Your partner feels that. Even if they can’t name it.

Here’s why all of this matters — and why I call it power.

When you can see your own patterns clearly, you have something real to work with. Not more effort. Not more trying. More clarity.

Maybe you realize you’ve been avoiding the real conversation because you’re terrified of the answer. Maybe you see that you’ve been keeping score instead of building trust. Maybe you recognize that your forcefulness isn’t strength — it’s fear in a louder outfit.

That awareness changes the game. Because now you know what to actually change.

And that clarity does something else, too. It helps you be truly accountable and make better decisions about what comes next.

Some people do this work and discover they haven’t actually done their part yet. There’s still something to try. They stop working harder and start working smarter.

Others do this work and realize something different: they have already changed. They’ve grown, shifted, tried things that mattered — and they’re still running into the same wall. That realization doesn’t feel good. But it’s useful. It gives them the confidence to make a different kind of decision — one they can stand behind, not one they’ll second-guess for years.

Either way, you leave with something more than you walked in with.

The couples who stay stuck longest are usually the ones who have become experts on each other’s faults and strangers to their own.

It’s an understandable mistake. Pain has a way of narrowing our focus. When we’re hurting, we look outward for explanations.

But the only part of this story you can actually rewrite is yours.

That’s not a limitation. That’s the beginning of the real change.

If any of this resonates with where you are right now, I’d be glad to talk.

About the Author

For more than 25 years, Brian Burns has worked with adults navigating relationship crisis — couples questioning whether to stay together, parents struggling to co-parent after divorce, and individuals uncertain whether therapy can still help. Brian is a Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist and founder of MN Relationship Repair in Woodbury, Minnesota, specializing in couples therapy, Discernment Counseling, Collaborative Divorce coaching, and co-parenting support.

He is especially known for helping couples on the brink of divorce navigate conflict, infidelity, emotional distance, and long-standing relationship patterns. Some arrive hoping to repair the relationship; others are uncertain whether repair is possible. Brian helps couples slow down, better understand what is happening between them, and make thoughtful, informed decisions about their future.

Brian is trained in multiple models of couples therapy and Discernment Counseling. He has served as an Approved Supervisor for the Minnesota Board of Marriage and Family Therapy for more than 20 years and has held leadership roles with the Collaborative Law Institute of Minnesota, including Board Director and Co-President.

A self-described “fan of marriage,” Brian brings both honesty and accountability to his work. He is committed to helping couples strengthen relationships whenever possible and, when separation is necessary, guiding families through the process in healthier ways — especially for children.

Brian regularly teaches therapists, attorneys, and other professionals on marriage, conflict, infidelity, co-parenting, and divorce. Outside the office, he enjoys time with his wife, following the adventures of their four adult daughters, reading, and spending time outdoors.

Brian Burns, LMFT
MN Relationship Repair
brian@mnrelationshiprepair.com | 651-505-3418
https://www.mnrelationshiprepair.com/