You know, for the longest time, I just figured relationships kinda… happened. You met someone, you clicked, and then you just rode the wave, right? That’s what I thought, anyway. But lately, I’ve been feeling a bit off, like there was this hum under the surface of things with my partner that wasn’t quite right. Not bad, just… not as connected as I knew we could be. It wasn’t a huge fight or anything dramatic. More like a slow drift.
So, I decided to actually DO something about it. I mean, instead of just hoping things would magically get better, I told myself, “Okay, for one whole month, I’m going to really practice being present and figuring out what’s going on, on my side, and with us.” This wasn’t some grand plan, just a gut feeling that I needed to step up and pay more attention.
First thing I did? I started observing. Not in a creepy way, just really listening when my partner talked. Before, I’d be nodding along, thinking about my grocery list or that email I needed to send. This time, I’d actually try to shut all that noise down and just take in what they were saying. It was harder than it sounds. My brain just wanted to wander. I’d catch myself drifting and pull myself back. Over and over again.
Then, I started asking questions. Not just the usual “How was your day?” kind of stuff, but more like, “What was the best part of your day?” or “What’s something that totally frustrated you today?” And when they answered, I’d try to dig a little deeper, asking “Oh, why was that the best part?” or “How did that frustration make you feel?” I found myself actually wanting to know the answers, not just asking out of habit. It felt kinda clunky at first, like I was following a script or something. Sometimes I’d get a short answer and felt like I was prying. But other times, it opened up these little windows into their day, into their head, that I hadn’t really seen before.
I also made a conscious effort to just be together without any distractions. We used to always have the TV on, or I’d be scrolling on my phone while we ate dinner. For this month, I tried to turn off the TV, put the phones away, even if it was just for dinner. We’d sit there, just eating, and sometimes it was quiet. Really quiet. Which felt a little awkward at first. Like, should I say something? Is this boring? But then, sometimes, those quiet moments would lead to unexpected conversations, or just a comfortable silence that felt really nice. I realized how much noise we usually filled our lives with, and how much it kept us from just… existing together.
I also tried to notice the little things. Like, if my partner looked stressed, instead of just thinking “they’re stressed,” I’d actually ask, “Hey, what’s on your mind? You seem a bit wound up.” Or if they did something nice for me, even something small like making coffee, I made sure to thank them, and not just a quick “thanks,” but a “Hey, thanks for the coffee, I really appreciate it.” It sounds so basic, right? But before, I’d often let those small moments just pass without acknowledgment. It’s like I was practicing seeing them, really seeing them, in the everyday.
Towards the middle of the month, I ran into a bit of a wall. I felt like I was doing all this work, putting in all this effort, and sometimes it felt like it wasn’t making a huge difference. Like, I’d listen intently, and sometimes the response would still be pretty short. Or we’d have a quiet dinner, and it would just stay quiet. I started to get a bit disheartened, thinking maybe it was pointless, or maybe I was just overthinking everything. I almost gave up, honestly.
But then, one evening, my partner came home and seemed genuinely down about something. Instead of my usual “What’s wrong?” I just sat down next to them, put my hand on their arm, and waited. I didn’t push. After a bit, they started talking, really opening up about something from work that was bothering them deeply. And I just listened. I didn’t offer advice, I didn’t interrupt, I just let them talk it all out. When they finished, they looked at me and said, “Thanks for just listening. That really helped.” It was a small moment, but for me, it was huge. It clicked. It wasn’t about ME fixing things or getting a big reaction; it was about showing up, being there, and offering that space.
By the end of the month, things felt different. Not magically perfect, because life isn’t like that. But there was a noticeable shift. We were talking more, laughing more easily, and those quiet moments didn’t feel awkward anymore; they felt comfortable and warm. I realized that “relationship work” isn’t about grand gestures or solving big problems every day. It’s about a consistent, everyday effort to connect, to be aware, and to genuinely care. It’s like building something, brick by brick, not just hoping it stands on its own. It’s a continuous practice, and honestly, it’s worth the effort.
