'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

So You’ve Been Dragged Into Couples Therapy: An Open Letter

Maybe they pleaded with you for months. Maybe they cried. Maybe they just booked the session and told you when to show up. And now here you are: scrolling through this blog, wondering how the heck you ended up reading something written by a therapist you’ve never met.

I can probably guess what you're thinking: This is bullshit. I don’t need therapy. They’re the one with all the problems. Or, fine, perhaps we have problems, but therapy isn’t going to fix them. And I already know what’s coming: everyone is going to gang up on me, and I’ll sit there for an hour while they tell me I’m the bad guy.

Sound familiar?

Yeah, I thought so.

Let’s be clear from the start: this isn’t going to be a soft, feel-good pep talk where I tell you “don’t worry, you’re not the problem.” Because here’s the hard truth: sometimes you are the problem. Sometimes your silence, your defensiveness, your “I don’t need this” attitude is the very thing standing in the way of change.

I told you I'm no-nonsense.

Why You’re Actually Here in the Couples Therapy Room (And No, It’s Not Just Because of Them)

It’s easy to tell yourself your partner is the one who needs help. They’re anxious, they’re emotional, they’re always on your case. Maybe they nag. Maybe they cry too much. Maybe they want to “talk” right when you’re finally sitting down after a long day.

But relationships don’t fall apart because of just one person. They fall apart because both people are stuck in a cycle, a dance, if you will. One pushes, one pulls. One nags, one withdraws. One explodes, one shuts down.

If your partner dragged you into therapy, it’s because the cycle you two are in isn’t working. And deep down, you know it.

This isn’t about proving who’s “right.” As Terry Real says, "You can be right or you can be married. What's more important to you?" It’s about noticing the dance you’ve both been stuck in and figuring out how to step differently.

The Shame Factor

Now, let’s discuss the thing that keeps many people from seeking help: shame.

Shame is the quiet voice that whispers:

• If I admit we need help, we're a weak couple.

• If the therapist sees the real me, they’ll think I’m broken or a bad person.

• If my partner’s crying, it must mean I'm a failure.

So you shut down. You cross your arms. You say things like, “I don’t want to talk about it.” You disappear into work for a week after a fight. You sleep on the couch and pretend it’s no big deal.

Shame thrives in silence. It grows in the dark. And it keeps you from actually dealing with what’s underneath.

Therapy is not here to humiliate you. However, it might challenge you. It might ask you to step out of the story you’ve been telling yourself and look at the bigger picture. While that may feel like a threat, it’s actually a chance to get some more of what you want and need in your closest personal relationship.

Grandiosity: Shame’s Fancy Costume

On the flip side of shame is grandiosity.

Grandiosity shrugs and says:

• I don’t need therapy. Everyone else is the problem.

• If my partner would just get it together, we’d be fine.

• Therapists are a waste of time and money. I already know what’s wrong here.

Does any of that ring a bell?

Grandiosity is just shame with a loudspeaker. Instead of feeling small, you make yourself big, at the expense of other people. Instead of admitting you’re scared or hurt, you throw up armor. You roll your eyes. You crack jokes in session. You dismiss your partner’s tears with, “You’re just too sensitive.”

If you really believe everyone else is the problem, chances are… you’ve become the problem.

And if your partner has been begging for therapy, there’s a good chance they’re exhausted from carrying the weight of a relationship where you refuse to look at your part.

“At Least I’m Better Than My Parents” (Are You, Though?)

Here’s another hard truth: a lot of people come into therapy swearing they’re “better than their parents.”

Maybe you told yourself you’d never scream the way your dad did. Maybe you promised you’d never stay silent like your mom did. Maybe you swore your kids would never feel scared the way you once did. Perhaps, you've even done some personal work in therapy and find yourself having a better life than they did.

And yet… here you are.

Because just because you’re different from your parents doesn’t mean you’ve actually broken the cycle.

You might not be shouting. However, your silence is just as loud. You might not be storming out of the house to buy milk and never return, but your cold shoulder lasts for days.You might not be drinking like your dad, but perhaps your kids still feel the same knot in their stomach when Mom and Dad stop talking.

You think you’re doing better. And in some ways, maybe you are. But if your kids are still anxious, still walking on eggshells, still wondering what version of you is going to walk in the door today, then the cycle hasn’t actually changed.

Family Legacy: What Your Kids Are Learning From You

Your romantic relationship doesn’t just affect the two of you. The raw sewage of your marital discontent overflows into your home, and your kids are immersed in it daily.

• When you withdraw for days after a fight, they notice.

• When you slam doors or stomp around, they hear it.

• When you and your partner go weeks barely speaking except about bills or schedules, they feel it.

And anxious kids don’t just “grow out of it.” They grow up into anxious adults who either repeat your patterns, or spend years trying to unlearn them in therapy of their own.

So when you roll your eyes and say, “It’s not that bad,” remember — it’s not just about you. Your kids are watching. And whether you like it or not, you’re teaching them what love looks like. You’re teaching them what marriage looks like. You’re teaching them what they should expect — or tolerate — when they grow up.

Do you really want them to carry this version of love forward?

Why I Won’t Promise Not to Take Sides

Some therapists like to play Switzerland. They promise not to take sides.

That’s not me.

Because sometimes the problem is lopsided. Sometimes one person’s behavior has been more destructive. Sometimes one partner is carrying more of the load while the other coasts. Sometimes one person has been avoiding, stonewalling, or dismissing while the other has been screaming to be heard.

If I sit there and act like it’s all equal, I’m lying to both of you.

So, yes. Sometimes I will take sides. I’ll name what I see. I’ll call you out if you’re hiding behind silence or arrogance. I’ll call your partner out if they’re steamrolling or avoiding responsibility too.

Therapy isn’t about fairness; it’s about honesty. And honesty sometimes stings, much like applying antiseptic ointment to a wound. Joining through the truth is the only way through. (Or divorce/separation. And I can almost guarantee you'll repeat your dysfunctional patterns/dance with someone else, unless you do the work now, to learn new moves.)

What You Actually Get Out of Therapy

Here’s the part that might surprise you: therapy isn’t just for your partner. It’s for you, too.

If you’re willing to show up, here’s what you might actually get:

• Relief. Because carrying all that defensiveness is exhausting.

• A chance to be heard. Really heard. Not just blamed or nagged.

• Tools to stop the same fight from happening over and over. You know the one. The “You never listen / You’re always nagging” fight that’s basically on repeat.

• Clarity. Finally seeing the patterns you didn’t even realize you were stuck in.

• A stronger relationship. Which, if we’re being real, is what you actually want deep down. Otherwise, you wouldn’t still be here.

The “Dragged Partner” Survival Guide

Since you’re here, you might as well make the most of it. Here’s how not to waste your own time in couples therapy:

1. Drop the act. You don’t need to look tough or “together.” Therapy works better when you’re honest. Also, you can go into this thinking about how you've fooled me and gotten one up on your partner by not really participating in good faith. Let me tell you how that works out in the long term: your partner eventually leaves. Or you're stuck in a partnership that no one wants to be in. Your choice. Change your behavior, or keep choosing the life you're living.

2. Think about your own peace. This isn’t just about your partner’s happiness . It’s also about yours. If you keep brushing things off, you’ll just keep living in an emotional warzone. Why not use the hour to actually work toward a little calm in your own house?

3. Don’t weaponize silence. Sitting in stony silence for three days isn’t maturity. It’s avoidance, and I get it, it's worked for you for many years. But it ain't working anymore. Time for new skills, and new ways to get your needs met.

4. Own your part. Even if your partner is 80% of the problem, you’ve still got 20%. Take responsibility for that piece.

5. Say the thing before it festers. You don’t have to be a poet or have a PhD in psychology to have good relationships. Just say what you actually think instead of holding it in until it explodes out of you sideways. If you hate therapy, say that. If you’re angry, say that. Silence helps nobody.

6. Do it because you’re selfish. Let’s be real: if your partner’s miserable, your life is miserable. Grumpy mornings, cold shoulders, slammed cabinet doors… that’s your life too. Making therapy work for them could actually make everything better for you, too.

What Happens If You Don’t Try

If you refuse to show up, if you keep stonewalling, if you won't tell the truth about who you are and what you're not willing to change or give up, if you keep sitting in therapy waiting for it to be over, here’s what happens:

Your partner eventually gives up.

And when they give up, it won’t be with a dramatic fight. It’ll be with quiet resignation. They’ll stop trying to get you to hear them. They’ll stop dragging you to therapy. They’ll stop fighting for the relationship.

And you’ll think, Finally. Peace.

But it won’t be peace. It’ll be the sound of your relationship dying. Passion will be the first thing that goes.

And if you think your kids don’t notice? Think again. Kids are remarkably perceptive. Like sponges, they're absorbing your silences, your sarcasm, your tension. Their little nervous systems are learning that “love feels like walking on eggshells.” And that sticks.

The Real Risk: A Lifetime of Disconnect

Here’s the biggest risk you’re facing: not therapy, not conflict, not even divorce. The real risk is a lifetime of disconnect, and trauma handed down to your children.

Living in the same house but miles apart emotionally. Going years without feeling truly known by your partner. Letting resentment calcify and harden until it’s too heavy to lift.

Sometimes, yes, divorce is necessary. Some relationships cannot be repaired. But here’s what you need to know: if you don’t heal your stuff, it doesn’t end with divorce.

Because you’ll carry the same unfinished business into the next relationship. And the next. And the next.

Different faces, same fights. Different houses, same distance.

You can keep marrying your unfinished business until you finally decide to face it.

Your Choice

You can enter therapy with your arms folded, just waiting for the session to end. Alternatively, you can enter with a willingness to engage — even if it's chaotic, uncomfortable, or makes you uneasy.

Your partner brought you here because they still have hope. That's actually a positive sign.

The real question is: how will you respond to this opportunity?

Therapy is not a form of punishment; it's a chance for growth. You can treat it like a seige against your careful defenses, or you can treat it like practice.

And the choice, whether you stay walled off or get curious, is yours.

Take Exquisite Care of Yourself,

Megan

Why Couples Therapy? Why Now?

Hi friends and colleagues,

Fall is here: beautiful, busy, and maybe a little overwhelming. Since I announced I’m now opening a couple of spots for couples therapy, I’ve been getting one question over and over:

“Why couples therapy? Why now?”

And honestly? My answer is pretty simple: “Why not now?”

My Old Take on Couples Therapy

Let me be honest: I wasn’t always on board with couples therapy.

In fact, I used to joke, “Sure, couples can come see me, but don’t be surprised if I suggest breaking up.”

Back then, I really believed my directness and assertiveness made me too blunt for couples work. I thought couples therapy meant being neutral at all costs, never taking sides, refusing to name unhealthy power dynamics, and never empowering one partner to stand up for themselves.

In my mind, couples therapy either:

• Gave one partner more personal empowerment while leaving the relationship behind, or

• Silenced the hurting partner to keep the status quo going.

  
  

That didn’t sit well with me.

Enter Relational Life Therapy (RLT):

Then one day, Terry Real showed up on my Instagram feed. (Go follow him on Instagram, seriously. The posts are so helpful, timely and thoughtful. It's @realterryreal).

Here was a therapist saying exactly what I’d been craving: holding people accountable, naming unhealthy patterns, pointing out how patriarchy hurts us all.

And I thought: finally.

Relational Life Therapy (RLT) is refreshingly straightforward. It moves through three steps:

1. Spot the patterns or the dance you and your partner participate in (diagnosis + reconnection).

2. Heal old wounds from childhood that are triggering your flight/fight/fix response in your partnership today (relational trauma work).

3. Learn new tools so you can get more of what you need and want (relational skills that last).

   
   

Clear. Practical. No bullshit. It blends the Gottmans’ marriage research with a sharper edge: definitive skills you can carry into every relationship, not just your romantic ones.

Sign. Me. Up.

Imagine This

You want more physical affection. Instead of asking directly for this, you toss out a side comment when your spouse walks by:

“Well, it’d be nice if you actually kissed me when you walked in.”

Your partner hears criticism, perhaps the same critical voices from their family growing up. Gloves go on. Ding, ding. The fight begins.

Or maybe it’s quieter: an eye roll, a sigh, a slow retreat into silence. Either way, the disconnection grows. And you're left feeling lonely, which triggers your own emotional wounds from childhood of being emotionally abandoned by a caregiver or parent. Adults cannot be abandoned; they can be left, but not abandoned. That feeling of abandonment is from childhood; it's an old unhealed child part of you. And child parts shouldn't be running your adult relationships today.

Now imagine saying this instead:

“Hey, I’d love a kiss right now. I missed you today.”

That’s clear. That’s vulnerable. Sure, it stings if your partner says no. But at least you asked. The real heartbreak is never asking, for years, and letting resentment pile up.

Why Daring to Rock the Boat Matters

Here’s what I love about RLT: it tells us to stop playing it safe. When we stop talking about what we need in our partnership, the first thing we lose is passion. Conflict is a counterpart to a truly passionate marriage. This doesn't mean you need to have huge screaming fights. It does mean you have to be brave enough to stand up for yourself and your relationship with love.

Rock the boat. Say what you need. Be bold and kind. Remember loving firmness gets more than harsh criticism any day of the week.

Not to shame or attack, but because courage is the only way things change.

And nothing changes if nothing changes.

How RLT Shifted My Own Relationships

This isn’t just theory for me. It’s personal.

Before RLT, I was the anxious pursuer in conflict, always chasing, always pushing for resolution before my partner was ready. Can you guess that my partner is the avoider? He would rather not engage, and often needs time to process his feelings before he's ready to problem solve.

After training, reading, and practicing RLT tools? I’ve changed.

My husband recently told me how much better I am at pressing pause, stepping back, grounding myself, and coming back calmer. That’s not who I used to be. And honestly? It feels like freedom.

A New Way to Think About 'Us'

Relational empowerment flips the script.

It’s not about me winning or you winning. It’s about us.

And working toward “us” doesn’t mean giving up your voice. It means learning to repair faster, laugh more, and actually enjoy each other.

Think of your relationship like an ecosystem. Your partner is part of your atmosphere: the very air you breathe.

When that air is toxic, everything suffers. When it’s cared for, everyone thrives.

“Good enough” relationships don’t just comfort us. They grow us into better, wiser, more generous humans.

Let's Begin

If you’re ready to breathe easier in your relationship, I have a couple of new openings for couples therapy this month.

The holidays are coming. Why not give yourselves the gift of a healthier, happier “us”?

Take Exquisite Care of Yourselves,

Megan