As a couples therapist, I’ve spent years helping people navigate the complexities of their relationships. I’ve often seen resentment, miscommunication, power struggles, and the slow erosion of intimacy. And yet, despite all my knowledge and experience, I had to face one of the hardest truths in my own marriage: I was the problem.
The Realisation
It wasn’t an explosive fight or a major betrayal that led me to this insight. It was the quiet moments of distance, the subtle shifts in our connection, and the way my partner had stopped turning toward me. They weren’t angry—they were exhausted. And in their exhaustion, I finally saw myself clearly.
I had spent so much time diagnosing relational patterns in my clients that I failed to examine my own. I assumed my insights into communication and emotional regulation meant I was immune to the same pitfalls I warned others about. But marriage is not a clinical case study—it’s a living, breathing partnership that requires presence, accountability, and humility.
Where I Went Wrong
- Listening Without Really Hearing
I prided myself on being a good listener. But in my marriage, I wasn’t truly hearing my partner. I was listening to respond, to defend, to intellectualise—rather than to understand. My partner didn’t need a therapist; they needed a spouse who made them feel seen and valued. - Being Right Over Being Kind
As a professional, I often analyse behaviour and motives with precision. But in my personal life, this habit became a weapon. I would argue with logic, believing that being right was the goal. What I failed to see was that rightness doesn’t foster connection—compassion does. - Neglecting Emotional Intimacy
I spent so much time guiding couples through their struggles that I neglected my own emotional world. My partner needed me to show up vulnerable, not just functionally. I thought providing support in practical ways was enough, but emotional intimacy requires much more—openness, presence, and effort. - Expecting My Partner to Adapt to Me
I unconsciously expected my partner to accommodate my needs while ignoring how I might be failing to meet theirs. I wasn’t intentionally selfish, but I was self-centred in my approach. I assumed my emotional intelligence would bridge gaps, when in reality, it was my willingness to change that mattered most.
The Turning Point
The moment of reckoning came when my partner, in a quiet but firm voice, said, “I don’t feel safe to share my feelings with you anymore.” That hit me harder than any argument ever could. It forced me to recognise that I had become the very thing I warned couples about—a person whose defensiveness and lack of self-awareness made their partner retreat.
I had a choice: blame them for feeling that way or take a hard look at my own behaviour. I chose the latter.
The Work of Change
Owning my role in our disconnect wasn’t easy. It required deep reflection and a willingness to shift long-held habits. Here’s what I did:
- I stopped assuming I knew best. I humbled myself and started approaching my partner’s emotions with curiosity rather than certainty.
- Practiced active empathy: Instead of analysing, I simply sat with my partner’s feelings, allowing them to exist without trying to fix them.
- Let go of defensiveness When my partner expressed hurt, I stopped justifying myself and started acknowledging their experience.
- Showed up with love, not expertise: I reminded myself daily that my role in this marriage was not to guide or instruct but to love and be loved.
The Lesson
Being a therapist doesn’t make me immune to relationship struggles. If anything, it makes me more susceptible to the illusion that I have all the answers. But relationships don’t thrive on knowledge alone; they thrive on effort, humility, and emotional generosity.
I learnt that I was the problem. But more importantly, I learnt that I could be part of the solution.
To anyone reading this: If your partner is pulling away, if the warmth in your relationship is fading, take a step back. Look inward. Be brave enough to ask yourself, Am I the problem? And if the answer is yes, know that acknowledgement is not failure—it’s the first step toward real change.