One partner may think in spirals, the other in straight lines. One may speak in metaphors, the other needs precision. One may need space to process, while the other needs connection to feel safe.

We were both trying. And we were both tired.

This piece explores how miscommunication quietly erodes trust — and how slowly, carefully, we can begin to rebuild a shared language. But it all takes time. It takes presence. And it takes a willingness to stay curious when it would be easier to retreat.

Because sometimes, the breakdown isn’t in what was said — It’s in what wasn’t understood.

Sometimes it’s:

• “I need more time” being heard as “I don’t care.”

• “This is hard for me” being mistaken for “You’re hard to love.”

• “I don’t know how to fix this” sounding like “You’re on your own.”

In these moments, everything gets louder — the emotions, the past, the interpretations. And yet the real need is often quiet. To be seen. To be heard — accurately. To not have to translate pain just to be taken seriously.

What Helps:

• Slow the pace. Miscommunication thrives in urgency. Slow gives both people a chance to regulate and respond — not just react.

• Use fewer words, more intention. Sometimes simplicity lands better than elaboration. Clear, kind, and honest wins.

• Name the mismatch. Acknowledge when you’re not understanding each other — “We’re missing each other right now. Can we try again?”

• Stay on the same side. Miscommunication can make you feel like enemies. Remind yourselves you’re on the same team — navigating different wiring.

• Build a shared language over time. You may need phrases, rituals, or even visual cues that anchor both of you. That’s not failure — that’s adapting with care.

A Personal Reflection:

I used to take it personally. The silence. The missed cues. The way he’d shut down the moment I started to speak from a place of vulnerability. It felt like rejection. Like absence. Like confirmation that I was too much.

But over time, I learned — his pause wasn’t always avoidance. Sometimes, it was a freeze response. Sometimes, it was overwhelm.

Sometimes, it was him not knowing how to name what he was feeling, or how to reach me in a way that made sense.

Still, it hurt.

And that’s the thing with miscommunication — it creates a double ache: the pain of not feeling understood, and the pain of feeling alone in trying to fix it.

This piece isn’t here to offer a fix. It’s here to name the ache. To remind you that if you’ve felt this — it’s not just you.

And it’s not the end.

Reflection Prompt:

• What do I most wish they understood about how I communicate?

• Have I ever been misunderstood in a way that stayed with me?

• What’s one phrase I wish I could say — and be truly heard?