10 Ways to Ask Your Partner to Go to Couples Therapy (Without the Eye Roll or the Explosion)

So, you’ve been thinking about couples therapy, and whether it can help you and your partner get along better. Maybe you’re tired of the same arguments looping, or you're exhausted from the weight of carrying the emotional load, or maybe you just want to feel closer again. But every time you picture bringing it up, you visualize your partner rolling their eyes, sighing, or saying, “We don’t need that.”

Sound familiar? You’re not alone. Many people want more support in their relationship but worry that suggesting therapy will spark defensiveness and irritation in their partner. The good news is: you don’t have to convince, pressure, or argue. With the right approach, you can invite your spouse into the therapy room in a way that feels safe, respectful, and even appealing.

Initially, you can make a request for marriage or couples counseling. The 10 options below are mostly request-based. All the steps or skills in the world won't make a partner who won't go attend and participate in the therapy process. And then, here's the hard part: let go of the outcome. You can't control your partner's behavior. Your partner may say no to your first request. After the negative response, it's your job to take care of yourself and your disappointment.

If it is dire (like you feel like your relationship is on life support, or is being rocked by something big happening), that's when you can turn that request into a demand. Demands are rare in marriage/partnership. For example, I'd say demands need to be less than 3-5 times in the course of a 30 year relationship. Demands sound like: "If we don't go to couples therapy, I am putting our relationship on a timetable of 6 months. If things don't change in 6 months time, I will leave."

Top 10 Ways to Introduce the Idea of Couples Therapy to Your Partner:

Here are 10 ways to ask your partner to try couples therapy, hopefully without making it a fight.

1. Lead with love, not blame.

If you start the conversation with, “We need help,” it can sound like a guilty verdict, raining down from a judge's bench. Instead, affirm their efforts first (yes, even when you feel like their efforts are severely lacking):

“I know you’re doing your best, and I see how much you care about our relationship. I want us to be even stronger.”

2. Tell your side of the story

Make it personal and express your own fears about therapy. Share why therapy matters to you. Vulnerability opens doors.

“I am nervous about going to therapy as well because I know I have some work to do. I care so deeply about us that I'm willing to feel that anxiety to help me get closer to you.”

3. Offer options

Instead of a yes/no question, give choices that feel manageable.

“Would you feel more comfortable trying a Zoom session first or going in person?”

4. Make it about us, not them.

The fastest way to trigger defensiveness? Saying “you need therapy.” Shift the language.

“I think therapy could help us communicate better and feel more connected. If nothing else, it'll help me speak to you in a way that lets me be heard. I'm hopeful to learn some new skills.”

5. Suggest a “test drive”

Big commitments can feel overwhelming. Keep it simple.

“What if we just tried one session and see what it’s like? No strings attached.”

6. Tie it to their values

Link therapy to something that matters to them: peace at home, less stress, or more fun together.

“Imagine how much easier things could feel if we had better tools to handle conflict.”

or

"I know how much you believe in staying together for the kids. I'd like our kids to see a relationship where their parents are really intimate and happy together."

7. Normalize it

Therapy is common, but many people still think it’s “only for problems.” Reframe it, similar to going to your PCP or auto dealership for a wellness check up.

“Lots of healthy couples use therapy as a tune-up. It doesn’t mean something’s wrong. It means we want to grow for the long haul.”

8. Don’t make it a hill to die on

If they’re hesitant, don’t turn it into an argument. Plant the seed and revisit later.

“I get that it’s not your favorite idea right now. Can you take some time to think about it, and I can bring it up again in a few weeks?”

9. If there are serious issues in the relationship, you may need to set the boundary.

Couples therapy works better if both people are invested, but it can still work even if one partner is reluctant and doesn't want to be there, if there's leverage.

“Honey, I love you, and I want our life together to be better. I have been very frustrated for a long time, and it's getting to the point where if we don't get some help from an outside source, I am going to have to start prioritizing my own needs and welfare, too. I don't want to have to do that, and I still deeply want to work on this together. Please come with me to a few sessions, just to see if we can move the needle. After all, if it works, it'll save us the pain and suffering of separation or fighting until one of us dies."

10. Be willing to go first

Sometimes the best way to show it’s safe is to try it yourself.

“I’m going to meet with a therapist on my own first, just to see what it’s like. I’d love for you to join me later if you’re open.”

Final Thoughts

Therapy isn’t a punishment, and it’s not about assigning blame. It’s an investment in your relationship. By leading with empathy, vulnerability, and respect, you’re showing your spouse that therapy is about building something better together, not tearing anything down.

So the next time you think about bringing it up, skip the lecture or the ultimatum. Instead, make it an invitation. One that says, I believe in us.

Couples Therapy with an RLT (Relational Life Therapy) Focus in Oklahoma and Vermont

If you'd like to discuss how to get started in couples therapy with me in Edmond, OK and throughout the state of Oklahoma, or throughout the state of Vermont, head on over to my couples therapy page and shoot me an email at info@giftofgritcounseling.com or schedule a free consult here.

Take Exquisite Care of Yourselves,

Megan

When Grief Meets Partnership: Navigating Child Loss as a Couple

When I first became a therapist, I didn’t imagine I’d work with couples. And I certainly didn’t expect to sit with parents grieving the death of a child. In the beginning, anxiety was the most common thread I followed. But then life, as it tends to do, cracked me open. I became a grieving parent. And something in me shifted. I began to feel called to walk alongside others navigating that same, impossible terrain.

Couples work emerged naturally, not just as an extension of grief support, but as its own inquiry: How do people stay together when the unthinkable happens? How does grief shape the space between partners, not just within them?

When our daughter died at birth, my husband and I were already four months into the grieving process. We’d known about her fatal diagnosis since the ultrasound, and yet, nothing prepares you for the stillness of a delivery room when the baby doesn’t cry. And to add insult to injury, we then experienced two years of infertility afterwards and three subsequent miscarriages before we had our one living child in 2020.

At the time of our first daughter's death, my grief came in bursts: tight, hot, sudden. His grief was quiet, folded inward. In those first weeks, he tucked me into bed every night because I couldn’t bear to sleep alone. It was the only part of our old rhythm that still felt steady.

And still, the distance came. I remember one fight. I was sobbing, screaming, utterly unraveled. He sat across from me on our brown couch, silent and shut down. We were both grieving, but in such different languages it felt like we’d lost each other, too.

That was the night we made a choice. Not to pretend things were okay. Not to erase the hurt. But to stay. To walk through the grief together, even if that meant limping.

This post is for couples standing in that same hallway of life, grieving a child, and wondering if your relationship will survive. My hope is to offer not answers, but orientation. You’re not doing it wrong. Grief pulls us apart, and it can also become a reason to reach for each other again.

The Double Impact: Grief with Child Loss and Relationship Stress

Grief often doesn’t arrive quietly. It floods the room. And when you're in a relationship, it doesn’t just touch your individual heart. It often gets into the dirty, dark underworld of the partnership.

After our daughter died, I felt like we, feeling desperate and disoriented, were both gasping for air in the dark, murky waters of grief. Sometimes we bumped into each other; sometimes we drifted in opposite directions.

It’s common to face communication breakdowns, where words either miss their mark or dry up entirely. Intimacy can slip away, not just physically but emotionally,like reaching for someone in the dark and finding they’ve turned to face the wall. Financial strain adds pressure, especially with the unexpected costs that come with medical care and memorials. And guilt, spoken or not, often seeps into the spaces between you, adding weight to already heavy days.

Statistically, 30% of parents report feeling more negatively toward their spouse after losing a child. Nearly 1 in 5 husbands and 1 in 7 wives say their marriage deteriorated. And yet, around 72% of couples remain married in the years after child loss.

Attachment theory tells us that loss activates our core fears about abandonment, rejection, and being too much or not enough. You need your partner more than ever, and at the same time, you may feel unable to reach them.

How Grief Shows Up Differently in Each Partner

I cried in corners. He kept the fridge stocked. I wrote long journal entries. He checked on my breathing at night.

Different isn’t wrong. But when you’re hurting, it’s easy to interpret difference as distance,or worse, disinterest.

Therapists describe two broad styles: intuitive grievers, who tend to feel through their loss with tears, stories, and quiet aching; and instrumental grievers, who process by doing,organizing, fixing, showing up in action.

If you’re one and your partner is the other, misunderstandings can multiply. You might think, “You never talk about her,don’t you care?” while they silently think, “I can’t fall apart,someone has to keep the lights on.”

You might both feel alone, even in the same bed.

Understanding these patterns won’t erase the pain, but it can loosen the grip of blame. It can make space for compassion.

Common Myths That Hurt Couples in Grief

There are stories grief tells us, quietly, cruelly, that make things harder.

One of the most painful is the belief that we should grieve the same way. But that sameness doesn’t exist. Even in the same household, love and loss take different shapes.

Another myth: that if my partner looks strong, they must not be hurting. Often, strength is just armor.

And perhaps the most persistent myth of all is that time will fix this. But time doesn’t heal, attention does. Care does. Presence does.

And despite the common claim that most marriages don’t survive the death of a child, the truth is more hopeful. Research shows that 72% of bereaved couples remain together. Grief doesn’t make the decision for you,how you respond to each other does.

What the Research Shows

• 72% of couples stay together after losing a child.

• 30% report increased conflict or negative feelings toward their partner.

• Couples who talk openly or create rituals together often grow closer.

Building Bridges Instead of Walls

There’s no map for this journey. However, there are handrails: small practices that can steady you.

1. Set aside time for grief conversations. Not problem-solving, just space to say out loud what hurts and what helps. These moments don’t need to be long. What matters is consistency and safety. You might find that naming your pain aloud invites your partner’s presence, even if they don’t have the right words.

2. Consider creating rituals of remembrance together. In our home, we get a birthday cake and candles on her birthday. We say her name. Some nights we just sit with a photo, not speaking. These moments tether us, to her, and to each other.

3. Allow joy and life to co-exist with sorrow. Watch something funny. Go for a walk. Make dinner together. These aren’t betrayals of your child’s memory. They’re small signs that life is still here, and you’re still in it, together.

4. Check in on your relationship, not just the grief. Ask, “How are we doing, the two of us?” Let yourselves be partners again,not just co-survivors.

5. And when words are too hard, use physical presence. A hand on the back. A shared blanket. A long, quiet exhale together. These small gestures remind your respective nervous systems: I’m here. You’re not alone.

Reclaiming Intimacy

After loss, even touch can feel like a risk. For many of my clients, their desires for sex and affection can wax and wane during the grieving process. This is common, and it's okay.

Rebuilding physical closeness isn’t linear. Start small. A hand resting on a shoulder. Sitting close without expectation. Saying, “I miss you,” even if you’re not ready to do anything about it yet.

Talk about what’s hard. Let your partner know what feels safe, and what doesn’t, without shame.

Intimacy after grief isn’t about returning to “normal.” It’s about discovering what closeness looks like now, in the world that exists after.

Let it be slow. Let it be tender. Let it be enough.

When Professional Support Is Needed

Some pain is too heavy to carry without help. Therapy doesn’t mean you’re irrevocably broken. It means you’re tending to what matters.

Reach out when the conflict feels stuck on repeat, or when silence becomes the only language you share. If one of you feels shut out, or shut down. If you’re drifting farther than you want to be.

Therapies like EMDR, relational life couples therapy, or grief-informed work can make space for healing. Sometimes, having someone else hold the story with you makes it easier to speak, and to hear each other again.

Conclusion

As a therapist, I work with grieving parents both individually and as couples. Sometimes that grief is about child loss. But often, it’s other kinds of loss: infidelity, identity shifts, the grief of growing apart, or the ache of wanting to grow together through something hard. Grief doesn’t always wear black. And it doesn’t always come with a funeral. But it shows up in our relationships all the same. You don’t have to navigate it alone.

You can love each other and still feel lost. You can grieve differently and still stay together.

Healing doesn’t mean forgetting. It means weaving the loss into your shared life,thread by thread, with tenderness.

If you're ready to talk, I'm here. I work with clients in person in Edmond, OK, and offer telehealth sessions to individuals and couples across Vermont. Not to fix what can’t be fixed, but to help you carry it, together.

Take exquisite care of yourselves,

Megan

Sources

• Najman, J. M., Vance, J. C., Griffiths, R. F., & Yuen, E. Y. (1993). The impact of the death of a child on marital adjustment. Social Science & Medicine, 37(8), 1005–1010.

• Murphy, S. A., Johnson, L. C., & Lohan, J. (2003). Finding meaning in a child's violent death: A five-year prospective analysis of parents' personal narratives and empirical data. Death Studies, 27(5), 381–404.

• The Compassionate Friends. (2022). Myths and facts about grief. Retrieved from https://www.compassionatefriends.org

• TAPS Institute. (2021). Marriage after the death of a child. Retrieved from https://www.taps.org/articles/21-1/divorce

• Vance, J. C., et al. (2008). Psychological changes in parents eight years after the death of their infant. Pediatrics, 122(5), e1295–e1301.

• Reproductive Health Finland Study. (2017). The long-term impact of child loss on parental divorce and family planning. Retrieved from https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/28789590

'Landslide' Moments in Love

If the song "Landslide" by Fleetwood Mac doesn't make you tear up, then maybe I'm not the therapist for you. And here's why.

Cue the grainy video from the concert (LOL)

How I've Grown in My Marriage (Yes, Even Therapists Have Struggles)

Last week my husband and I went to see Stevie Nicks in concert in Oklahoma City. It was profound, on many levels.

As I stood beside him, swaying, clapping, crying, I realized how much we’ve grown. We weren’t perfect when we got married, and we’re not perfect now. But we are better. Stronger. More “us” than we used to be.

Wedding photos are lovely, aren’t they?

Then Stevie came back on stage for the encore and began singing “Landslide.” My husband and I mouthed the words together in the darkened stadium:

"Can I sail through the changing ocean tides?

Can I handle the seasons of my life?

I don’t know…

I’ve been afraid of changing, ’cause I built my life around you."

Several years ago, those lyrics would have sliced me open. The truth is: I wasn’t happy in my marriage, and I'm not entirely sure how fulfilled my husband felt at the time, either. I was ashamed even admitting that, to myself, let alone anyone else.

My relational coping style back then? Resentful martyrdom, passive-aggressive communication, and endless complaints. My husband’s? Wounds from deep childhood trauma, emotional immaturity, and a lack of generosity. In other words: our unique mixture of our relational skills, or lack thereof, were not exactly a recipe for joy.

Layer onto that the landslides of life, grieving the death of our first child, infertility, financial struggles, and it’s a miracle we didn’t bury each other in the rubble.

Here's what happened instead: Time made us bolder. We chose each other. We chose to do the work. We got serious about our needs in the relationship, and our wants. Slowly, awkwardly, sometimes painfully, we built a relationship that, on most days, we now cherish. A partnership where intimacy, vulnerability, and joy have room to grow.

The Spiritual Gift of Long-Term Love

Here’s what I’ve learned: long-term relationships are both mirror and teacher. They offer us the chance to grow, to grieve what we will never get from our parents in childhood, and to be tenderly seen and truly known by one person better than anyone else.

Imagine the profound peace in letting go of the dream that your partner will be an endless god or goddess who is always turned on, always receptive, always happy, always loving, etc., while recognizing the hard, gritty truth:

I'm with a flawed, wonderful, messy, imperfect human being. And darn it, that must mean my partner is, subsequently, with a flawed, wonderful, messy, imperfect human being as well.

It's humbling. It's sacred. And it's often where our spirit matures. Relationships are a spiritual portal to who we can truly become, if we take accountability for the wounds reflected back at us.

What Stevie Nicks Taught Me About Relationships

In an interview, Stevie shared how “Landslide” was born during a season of fear and uncertainty. She was broke, waitressing by day, recording by night, and questioning her future with Lindsey Buckingham. She said something that stopped me in my tracks:

“Fear never helps relationships.”

She went on: “What we have to offer together is way better than what I have to offer by myself.”

That sounds a lot like what therapist Terry Real teaches in his book, Us: Getting Past You & Me to Build a More Loving Relationship:

“You are connected, you and your partner; there is no escape. The people we know and love trigger our deepest wounds, and at the same time they provide the greatest comfort and solace. For good and ill, we do not stand alone.” (pg. 52)

Relationships are not one big decision (despite what they made it sound like in your wedding vows); they’re a million little ones. Moment by moment, you decide whether to lean in or pull away. Sometimes those decisions lead you back to each other. Sometimes they don’t.

And good therapy doesn't tell you what to do with your life or your love. It helps you see that no matter what choices you make, you can and will find your way.

Either way, healing takes time. And clarity takes even longer.

Landslide Moments in Love

Every relationship faces landslide moments in love, times when the ground beneath you feels like it’s giving way. But sometimes, paradoxically, relationships can be shelter from the rumbling earth, the flying debris, the mess and chaos of being human in a hard world.

When we allow ourselves to be seen, when we stay present through fear and change, we find resilience. We discover that love isn’t about avoiding landslides. It’s about dusting ourselves off, and choosing relationality over individuality. Choosing Us over You and Me.

This is the work of self-actualization. Of spiritual transcendance. Of becoming whole. Of growing up.

Because in the end, life and love are not about perfection. They're choosing, over and over, to surrender to the landslides, and to see who you become on the other side.

Take Exquisite Care of Yourself,

Megan