Relational wounds are some of the loneliest wounds there are.
They’re rarely visible. They don’t show up in family photos or anniversary posts. And when connection is supposed to feel easy or celebratory, the contrast can make private strain feel isolating.
Many couples carry their hurt quietly, assuming it means something is uniquely wrong with them or with their relationship.
It doesn’t.
Most couples I work with love each other deeply and still feel unseen, disconnected, or worn down by patterns they don’t know how to change.
Often, they tell me some version of the same thing:
“We thought we were the only ones struggling like this.”
And they truly aren’t. Not even close.
When Love Is Still There, But Something Is Missing
What I see most often isn’t a lack of love. It’s a loss of meeting.
Over time through stress, parenting, grief, neurodivergent/neurotypical "misses", or unresolved hurt partners can slowly stop experiencing each other as emotionally present and reachable. Conversations become transactional and brief. Conflict becomes rehearsed and lacks resolution that leaves partners feeling further apart. Even kindness can start to feel mechanical or met with skeptism.
You may still care deeply for one another. You may still be committed. And yet, something essential feels thin, tired, or strained.
This kind of disconnection can be confusing because it doesn’t come from one big rupture. It emerges quietly, through missed bids, unresolved injuries that get stuffed down, and moments where turning toward each other felt too hard or too risky.
A Different Way of Understanding Disconnection
Philosopher Martin Buber described two ways of relating: I–It and I–Thou.
In I–It relationships, we experience the other as an object—something to manage, fix, appease, or endure. This isn’t cruel; it’s often what happens when we’re overwhelmed or protecting ourselves.
In I–Thou relationships, the other is experienced as a whole person—complex, vulnerable, and worthy of presence rather than control.
Many couples don’t realize that under stress or hurt, they’ve slowly slipped from meeting each other as people into managing each other as problems.
You can love someone deeply and still relate to them primarily as:
- a source of disappointment
- a threat to your emotional safety
- a role that keeps failing you
- or a problem to solve rather than a person to encounter
When that happens, love doesn’t disappear, but it may stop feeling loving.
Why This Isn’t a Personal Failure
From a Restoration Therapy perspective, relational breakdown isn’t first about skills or effort. It’s about relational presence.
When couples lose a felt sense of safety and recognition, even well-intentioned attempts to communicate can miss the mark. Apologies fall flat. Explanations escalate conflict. Effort increases, but connection doesn’t.
This isn’t because either partner is broken or unmotivated. It’s because relationships cannot heal without moments of being met—seen, recognized, and responded to as a person, not a problem.
And when couples haven’t experienced that kind of meeting in a long time, they often stop expecting it altogether.
You Are Not the Only Ones
If your relationship feels harder than it “should,” you are not alone.
If you love each other and still feel distant, you are not failing.
If part of you wonders whether something important has been lost, you are not imagining it.
These are not signs that your relationship is doomed. They are signs that something tender has gone unacknowledged and that repair may require presence before solutions.
For couples curious about how regulation and nervous system awareness support connection in the midst of stress and overwhelm, my Catching the First Wave of Overwhelm blog is a practical next step.
For now, here’s a gentle reflection to guide your thinking:
How do you recognize when you are truly being met, and how might you invite that presence in your relationship?