Most couples in a long-term relationship can name at least one issue that never quite goes away. You talk about it, attempt to resolve it, promise to handle it differently next time, and yet it keeps coming back. Dr. John Gottman refers to these as perpetual problems, and nearly every marriage has them. The difficulty is not that they exist, but that we often approach them as problems to eliminate rather than patterns to understand.
In my work as a family and marriage therapist, the surface argument is rarely the real issue. There is usually a deeper current running underneath the conflict. One partner becomes convinced that the other has a personality trait that is beyond repair, while the other feels chronically criticized or misunderstood. Over time, each person develops a narrow lens through which they interpret everything the other does. Instead of seeing a whole and complex human being, we begin seeing a fixed character in a story we have repeated so many times that it feels like a fact.
During regrettable incidents, the focus naturally turns to how hurt or dismissed we felt.
We replay the words, the facial expressions. We rarely pause long enough to ask what our own contribution might be to the pattern. This is not an invitation to self-blame but to self-awareness.
When we shift our attention from scrutinizing our partner to examining our own communication habits, assumptions, and rigidity, something important changes. We become conscientious. Responsibility can feel uncomfortable at first, yet it is far more empowering than waiting for another person to change. We may not be able to alter our spouse’s temperament or history, but we can soften our tone, clarify our needs, and question the conclusions we draw so quickly.
In my training with John and Julie Gottman, I often use an exercise called “Dreams Within Conflict.” The purpose is to move beyond the content of the fight and explore its deeper meaning. Most entrenched positions are protecting something vulnerable. A value, a fear, a longing, or a deeply held dream is often at stake.
A husband who resists financial risk may be attempting to protect stability because of earlier experiences of chaos or insecurity. A wife who insists on structure and predictability may be trying to create a sense of safety she once lacked. When couples slow down and become curious about what the conflict represents rather than who is right, criticism often gives way to compassion. They begin to see that their partner is not trying to be difficult, but is often trying to protect something important.
I remember speaking with a woman who felt certain she knew exactly how her husband would respond in every future situation.
She described his reactions in detail, as though the script had already been written. I suggested that when we repeatedly view our spouse as defensive or unreasonable, we begin interacting with them in ways that confirm that expectation. Over time, this dynamic becomes what the Gottmans describe as negative sentiment override, in which even neutral or positive behaviour is filtered through a cloudy, dirty lens.
The mind is adept at creating narratives, and once a story takes hold, it influences how we see things. However, most couples did not choose each other purely for convenience or on impulse. Initially, they shared core values. Family, commitment, loyalty, and mutual respect were important. These values don’t vanish just because conflicts arise. Instead, they can become hidden beneath layers of pain, exhaustion, and unspoken beliefs.
The stories we tell ourselves shape how we see the world, and in relationships, these narratives, once set, strongly influence perception. However, most couples didn’t originally choose each other for shallow reasons like convenience or mere impulse. At the foundation of the relationship were shared core values: a dedication to family, commitment, loyalty, and mutual respect. These values don’t vanish simply because the couple experiences conflict. Instead, they are often hidden beneath accumulated emotional pain, exhaustion, and unquestioned beliefs. Marriage is sustained less by fluctuating feelings and more by the steady decision to will the good of the other person. That decision requires humility and maturity. It also requires the willingness to return to oneself and ask difficult questions about pride, control, and fear.
I have learned, both personally and professionally, that it is far easier to catalogue a partner’s flaws than to confront our own patterns.
Yet whenever a husband or wife chooses curiosity over certainty and reflection over accusation, the atmosphere between them begins to shift. When one person grows inwardly, the relationship often begins to grow outwardly. Conflict then becomes an opportunity to understand more deeply rather than to win more convincingly, and in that space, intimacy has room to develop again.