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/

 

Dog, Jack
Jack
It turns out that dogs are great teachers about relationships. My dog recently taught me that I cannot get him (or anyone else) to do something simply by being right. Being right will not get you what you want in a relationship, and may even drive a deeper wedge between you and what you want. Our family recently adopted Jack from the Humane Society in St. Paul. Jack is a sweet, somewhat shy, dog who started his journey in Alabama. I think about Jack spending time in a shelter in Alabama and then riding in a kennel for the long drive to Minnesota–multiple kennels, surrounded by unknown dogs, poked and examined by well-meaning vets and volunteers and then coming to a new house with new people. So Jack was living a high stress life for at least the two weeks before he came into our lives. One night during his first week with us, I took him outside to pee before bed. Jack had been outside several times that day, but he hadn’t peed. I needed him to pee so we could sleep through the night. Jack was skittish, and easily distracted. Just as I thought he was going to go, a dog in a neighboring house started barking and Jack moved out of position.  He pulled on the leash and wanted to go back inside. I knew the right thing for Jack. He would feel much more comfortable all night if he just peed. I bet 10 out of 10 people on the street would agree with me. After 12+ hours, peeing is a good idea. I was tired, and I was worried about him. I became impatient. My voice took on an edge as I got more and more frustrated that he would not do what I was asking. I was right, after all. But it didn’t matter to Jack. My frustration, impatience and insistence only made him more stressed. And less likely to pee. What Jack needed was a way to reduce his stress. Staking out the factually correct position and insisting did not help Jack reduce his stress. This is true for anyone in a relationship. Couples going through a divorce sometimes get hung up on being “right,” but that’s not going to lead to an agreement if the other person is stressed out.  Sometimes you have to back off and let the other person relax and reach their own conclusion. We work very hard to minimize stress for everyone in the collaborative divorce process.  It helps people reach durable agreements. Jack never peed that night. The next morning, we were both refreshed, the sun was shining and I sat back and let Jack take his time. He peed, and we were both happy.