Fighting Fairly: A Journey Toward Connection
Conflict is inevitable in relationships. It’s as much a part of the human experience as love, hope, or fear. Yet, how we navigate conflict shapes not only our relationships but also our sense of self. In my years as a therapist, I’ve seen countless individuals struggle to make sense of anger and discord. What if, instead of viewing conflict as something to be avoided, we approached it as a gateway to growth and intimacy?
The First Conflict
The Torah begins not with sweeping laws or grand societal visions but with intimate human struggles. Take the story of Adam and Eve. These first humans begin their journey in Eden, a place of unity but also naivety—a state of untested connection. Their fall, often seen as a moment of rupture, is also the beginning of something deeply human: the realization that relationships are complex, requiring effort, respect, and shared understanding.
When they clothe themselves, it’s more than an act of modesty. Clothing becomes a symbol of seeing each other not as mere bodies but as persons—beings with dignity, individuality, and a shared fragility. Adam’s naming of Eve as “the mother of all living” marks another transformation: an acknowledgment of her role as a co-creator, someone who embodies the potential to bring life into a world they will shape together.
It’s a poignant image, one I often think about in the therapy room. To truly see another person—not just their surface but their essence—is the foundation of any meaningful connection.
Anger: The Most Misunderstood Emotion
Anger often gets a bad rap. We associate it with violence, chaos, or a loss of control. But as psychologist Carol Tavris argues in Anger: The Misunderstood Emotion, anger itself isn’t the problem. It’s how we express—or suppress—it that determines whether it becomes destructive or transformative.
When anger arises in a relationship, it’s usually signaling something deeper: a need that’s unmet, an injustice that’s felt, or a longing that’s unspoken. But instead of exploring these signals, many of us lash out or retreat into silence. We blame, sulk, or withdraw—strategies that protect us from vulnerability but also isolate us from the connection we crave.
Three Pathways to Fair Fighting
Fair fighting isn’t easy. It requires courage, patience, and a willingness to sit with discomfort. But the rewards—greater intimacy, trust, and understanding—are worth the effort.
- Speak the Truth Without Blame
Blame is the great saboteur of relationships. It shifts focus from the issue at hand to the flaws of the other person, creating defensiveness and shutting down dialogue.
Instead of blaming, try expressing your feelings and needs directly. For example:
- Instead of saying, "You’re so selfish," say, "I felt hurt when you didn’t consider my perspective."
This small shift transforms anger from a weapon into an invitation for connection. It opens the door for understanding rather than slamming it shut with accusations.
- Pause Before Reacting
When emotions run high, our first impulse is often to fight or flee. But these reactive states rarely lead to resolution. Taking a moment to pause—a deep breath, a short walk—creates the space needed to respond thoughtfully rather than impulsively.
I’ve seen this simple practice transform couples who thought they were irreparably stuck. A pause isn’t avoidance; it’s an act of care for the relationship.
- Focus on the Issue, Not the Person
How often do we attack the person we love instead of addressing the problem? It’s a trap many fall into, especially when emotions overwhelm us. But personal attacks only escalate conflict and erode trust.
For instance:
- Instead of saying, "You’re lazy and never help around the house," say, "I feel overwhelmed with all the chores. Can we figure out a way to share the load?"
By focusing on the issue, you’re not just de-escalating the fight—you’re modeling respect and creating space for collaboration.
The Cost of Sulking
Sulking may seem like the opposite of fighting, but it’s just as harmful. When we sulk, we retreat into ourselves, shutting down communication and leaving the other person to guess at our feelings. Sulking is anger turned inward, and it often leads to prolonged resentment rather than resolution.
Fair fighting, by contrast, requires vulnerability. It asks us to bring our emotions to the table, even when they feel raw or messy. It’s an act of trust—a belief that the relationship is strong enough to hold both our pain and our hopes.
Why Do We Fear Emotional Expression?
In therapy, I’ve often encountered clients who struggle to articulate their emotions. Many learned early in life that certain feelings—anger, sadness, even joy—were unacceptable. They buried these emotions, hoping to avoid judgment or rejection. But repressed emotions don’t disappear; they linger, festering beneath the surface, manifesting as anxiety, depression, or relational conflict.
Expressing emotions is risky. It requires us to confront not only how we feel but also what those feelings mean. Yet, as I’ve seen time and again, this process is profoundly liberating. When we give voice to our emotions, we reclaim a part of ourselves.
Therapy as a Space for Connection
Therapy is, at its core, a relationship. It’s a place where feelings can be explored without fear, where anger can be understood rather than judged, and where vulnerability becomes a strength rather than a liability.
In the therapy room, clients often confront their deepest fears: the fear of rejection, the fear of inadequacy, the fear of being truly seen. But as they begin to express their emotions—naming them, feeling them, and sharing them—they discover something extraordinary. They find that their anger, sadness, or longing isn’t a barrier to connection but a bridge.
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