Let me tell you about Matt and Lauren.

They're not a real couple. But if you're married, I guarantee you'll recognize them. Because some version of Matt and Lauren is sitting in every living room in America right now, having the same fight they had last week, last month, and last year.

It starts small. Lauren mentions something that's been bugging her. Maybe it's the weekend plans. Maybe it's something he said at dinner. Maybe it's just a feeling she can't shake that they're drifting apart. She brings it up because she cares. Because she wants to feel close to him. Because in her mind, talking about it is how you fix it.

Matt listens. For about ninety seconds. Then something shifts behind his eyes. His jaw tightens. His answers get shorter. He starts glancing at his phone or the TV or literally anything that isn't this conversation.

Lauren notices. Of course she notices. And it terrifies her. Because his pulling away feels like confirmation of the thing she was afraid of in the first place. So she leans in harder. Her voice gets more urgent. She asks more questions. She says things like "Are you even listening to me?" and "This is exactly what I'm talking about."

Matt feels the walls closing in. Everything he says makes it worse. Everything he doesn't say makes it worse. He's drowning and she keeps throwing more water. So he does the only thing that makes sense to his overwhelmed nervous system.

He shuts down.

"I don't want to talk about this right now."

And Lauren hears, "You don't matter enough for me to stay in this conversation."

That's not what he said. That's not what he meant. But that's what she heard. And now they're off to the races.

She pursues. He withdraws. She pursues harder. He withdraws further. The volume goes up, the walls go up, and by the end of the night they're sleeping on opposite sides of the bed wondering how a conversation about weekend plans turned into World War III.

This is the pursue/withdraw pattern. And it's one of the most destructive dances in any relationship.

You've Done This Dance Before

If you read my article a couple weeks ago about the dumbest things couples fight about, you already know about the Fear Dance. The pursue/withdraw pattern is one of the most common versions of it.

Here's the short version: every person carries core fears into their relationship. Fear of rejection. Fear of inadequacy. Fear of being controlled. Fear of being invisible. When your partner does something that bumps against one of those fears (even accidentally), your brain doesn't register "minor disagreement." It registers "threat." And you react from that place.

The pursuer's fear is usually disconnection. Abandonment. Being left alone with their feelings. So they chase. They press. They need to resolve it NOW because every second of silence feels like the relationship is falling apart.

The withdrawer's fear is usually failure. Inadequacy. Being told they're not enough. So they retreat. They shut down. They pull away because every word out of their partner's mouth feels like more evidence that they can't get it right.

Neither one is the villain.

I need you to hear that again. Neither. One. Is. The. Villain.

The pursuer isn't being needy or controlling. They're scared of losing you.

The withdrawer isn't being cold or heartless. They're scared of failing you.

Both of them are operating from a good heart with broken strategies.

And that reframe changes everything. Because once you stop seeing your spouse as the enemy and start seeing the dance as the enemy, you can finally do something about it.

Why Good Hearts Use Broken Strategies

Here's something I've learned after thirty years of coaching couples. Most of the damage we cause in our relationships comes from a good place.

The wife who follows her husband from room to room wanting to talk? She's not trying to nag him. She's trying to save the relationship. In her mind, unresolved conflict is dangerous. Silence is dangerous. If they don't talk about it, it festers. She's doing the only thing she knows how to do to keep them connected.

The husband who goes quiet and retreats to the garage? He's not trying to punish her. He's trying to protect the relationship. In his mind, if he stays in that conversation, he's going to say something he regrets. He's going to make it worse. Leaving feels like the responsible choice. He's doing the only thing he knows how to do to keep from blowing it up.

Both of them are trying to help. Both of them are making it worse. And neither of them can see it because they're so locked into their own fear that they can't see what's happening on the other side.

This is what I mean by broken strategies. The intention is good. The execution is terrible. And the result is that two people who love each other end up feeling more alone than ever.

The pursuer needs to know: your spouse isn't leaving the conversation because they don't care. They're leaving because they care so much that they're overwhelmed.

The withdrawer needs to know: your spouse isn't attacking you. They're reaching for you. It just doesn't feel like reaching because their fear makes it come out sideways.

When you can see your partner's behavior through that lens, something shifts. Not because the behavior stops bothering you. But because the story you tell yourself about it changes. And the story is what drives your reaction.

How to Stop the Dance

Seeing the pattern is step one. But seeing it isn't enough. You need tools to interrupt it. Here are the ones I teach in my intensives.

The Sacred Pause

When you feel the dance starting, stop. Don't say the next thing. Don't chase. Don't retreat. Just pause.

I know that sounds too simple. But the sacred pause is the most underrated tool in any relationship. Because the dance requires two people moving at the same time. If one of you stops, the dance can't continue.

For the pursuer, the sacred pause means resisting the urge to press harder. It means saying to yourself, "They're not abandoning me. They need a minute. I can give them that." It means sitting with the discomfort of silence instead of filling it with more words.

For the withdrawer, the sacred pause means resisting the urge to leave. It means saying to yourself, "They're not attacking me. They need connection. I can give them that." It means staying present even when every fiber of your being wants to check out.

The sacred pause doesn't solve the conflict. It creates space for the conflict to be solved. There's a big difference.

The Repair Reset

If you read last week's article about the Repair Reset, you know this one. It's any gesture, word, or action that says "I see this escalating and I don't want it to."

In the pursue/withdraw dance, a Repair Reset might sound like:

"I can feel us doing our thing again. Can we slow down?"

"I'm not going anywhere. I just need ten minutes to calm my brain down."

"I know I'm coming on strong right now. I'm just scared."

"I don't have the right words yet, but I want you to know I'm trying."

Any of those will work. They don't have to be perfect. They just have to be honest.

Radical Responsibility

This is the big one. And honestly, it's the one most people resist the hardest.

Radical responsibility means owning your side of the dance without waiting for your partner to own theirs first.

The pursuer practices radical responsibility by saying, "I know my intensity pushes you away. I'm going to work on that. Not because you asked me to, but because I don't want to be the reason you shut down."

The withdrawer practices radical responsibility by saying, "I know my silence scares you. I'm going to work on staying present. Not because you demanded it, but because I don't want to be the reason you feel alone."

Nobody wants to go first. Everybody wants the other person to change first. But that's not how it works. Somebody has to take ownership of their part without keeping score. Somebody has to say, "I'm going to change my steps in this dance regardless of what you do."

That's radical responsibility. And it's the fastest way I've ever seen to change a relationship.

What This Looks Like in Real Life

Let's go back to Matt and Lauren.

Same couple. Same living room. Same conversation about weekend plans. But this time, they've learned the pattern.

Lauren brings up what's been bugging her. Matt feels the familiar tightness in his chest. But instead of shutting down, he takes a sacred pause. He breathes. And he says, "I want to hear you. I'm starting to feel overwhelmed. Can you give me five minutes and I promise I'll come back?"

Lauren feels the familiar panic when he asks for space. But instead of pursuing harder, she takes her own sacred pause. She breathes. And she says, "Okay. I trust you. I'll be here."

Five minutes later, he comes back. They talk. It's not perfect. It's a little clunky. But they're actually talking instead of dancing.

That's it. That's the whole thing. It's not complicated. It's just hard. Because it requires both of you to fight against your deepest instincts in the moment.

But every time you do it, the dance loses a little power. And every time the dance loses power, your relationship gains it.

The Dance Is the Enemy, Not Your Spouse

If you take one thing from this article, let it be this: your spouse is not your enemy. The dance is your enemy.

Your spouse is a scared human being doing the best they can with broken strategies. Just like you. Just like me. Just like every person who's ever been in a relationship.

The pursuer isn't too much. The withdrawer isn't too little. They're both just dancing to music they didn't choose, using steps they learned long before they ever met each other.

But you can learn new steps. You can hear new music. You can stop the dance and start actually connecting.

It starts with seeing the pattern. It continues with grace for yourself and your partner. And it gets stronger every single time one of you is brave enough to pause, reset, and reach for the other person instead of reacting.

The dance is strong. But your marriage is stronger.

I believe that about you.

Ready to stop the dance and learn new steps together?

Join Smalley Sojourners, a community where we practice tools like the Sacred Pause and the Repair Reset in real time. Not theory. Real couples. Real tools. Real change.

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Your marriage is stronger than the dance.

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You can also text me at (303) 435-2630 or email [email protected].

Are you the pursuer or the withdrawer? Or does it switch depending on the topic? I'd love to hear your experience in the comments. No judgment. We've all been stuck in the dance.