Think Differently. Solve the Impossible.

Why conflict is often about something deeper than the thing we’re arguing about.

Two people can experience the same conversation and walk away believing completely different things happened. 

One thinks they were ignored. The other thinks they were giving space. One thinks they were being helpful. The other feels controlled.

One thinks the argument is about dishes, money, a text message, or being five minutes late.  

The other thinks it means:

You don't listen to me.
You don't respect me.
I can't depend on you.

That is one of the hardest things about relationships: the event and the meaning we assign to it aren't necessarily the same thing. When relationships become difficult, a useful question to ask is:

What is actually happening here?
 

We Don't Respond Only to What Happened

As we experience the world through our senses, we don't record what happens like a camera.

We interpret it.

Something happens. We compare it with previous experiences. We attach meaning to it. That produces emotions and feelings. Those influence what we do next.

Two people can receive the same information and respond differently because they're interpreting it through different histories. Imagine your partner doesn't respond to a text. The observable event is fairly simple:

No response yet.

Your mind might turn that into:

They're ignoring me.

Someone else might be think:

They're probably busy.

Another person's might wonder:

Something must be wrong.

It's important not to react to what we think an event means, rather only to what we know.
 

The Relationship is Bigger Than the Event

One of the memorable examples from my conversation with relationship coach Michelle Hoffmann involved something mundane:

spoons.

Who cares which direction spoons in a drawer face? If someone becomes upset because the spoons aren't arranged correctly, arguing about the spoon orientation isn't going to solve much when the real issue may not be the spoons. It might be:

Organization makes me feel calm.

Or:

I've told you this matters to me. I don't feel heard.

Or:

When you make an effort to do something simply because it matters to me, I experience that as caring.

The argument looks different. 

The question changes from:

Why are you making such a big deal about the spoons?

to:

What does this mean to you?

That doesn't mean the other person's interpretation is reasonable, and that caring about someone requires complying with every request. Understanding the meaning behind a disagreement gives more useful information than arguing about the surface event.
 

Ask: What's the Meaning Behind the Message?

Suppose someone says:

"You never help around here."

Never? Taken literally, that's probably not true. The natural response is to defend yourself:

"That's ridiculous. I took the trash out yesterday."

You may be correct, and miss the point. What the person may really be trying to communicate is:

I'm overwhelmed and I don't feel supported.

That's something to talk about. This doesn't mean accepting inaccurate accusations. It means recognizing that correcting the factual wording will not resolve the problem. Sometimes the better question to ask isn't:

Is that statement literally true?

It's:

What is this person trying to tell me?
 

Listen, Guide, or Help?

An idea from the conversation was to respond with:

Would you like me to listen, guide, or help?

When someone tells us about a problem, we immediately think we need to start fixing it. They may not want a solution. They may simply want to be heard. Perhaps they do want advice, while not asking you to take control of the situation. Those are three forms of participation:

• Listen: Hear me. Don't solve it.
• Guide: Give me your perspective or advice.
• Help: Become actively involved in solving the problem.

Michelle discussed this in the context of parents communicating with children. Imagine your partner comes home and says, "My boss was awful today."

You immediately say, "You need to tell him he can't treat you like that. Here's what you should say tomorrow..." 

You think you're helping. 

Your partner becomes irritated. Now you're confused. You were trying to be supportive. The person wanted listening and instead received guidance.

The problem wasn't your advice. 

It was that you were solving a different problem than the one they brought to you.
 

Relationships Require Knowing What You Want

The same problem appears before a relationship begins. We often start with the person:

Do I like them?
Are they attractive?
Is there chemistry?

There's an earlier question to ask:

What kind of relationship am I trying to create?

Suppose you love rock climbing.  Finding someone else who loves climbing might sound like an ideal match. But climbing is something you do. Someday you might get injured, your interests might change, or move somewhere without climbing.

What was underneath your attraction to climbing?

Adventure?
Challenge?
Time outdoors?
Physical activity?

The deeper characteristics matter more to a durable relationship than sharing one particular hobby. Two people don't need identical values.

Incompatible values can create conflicts. One person may value financial security and save aggressively. The other may prioritize enjoying the present and spend freely. Neither is evidence that someone is a bad partner. Without recognizing the difference, you've created a recurring systems problem. The argument may appear to be about a credit-card bill. The underlying disagreement is about what money is for.
 

Chemistry Makes Us Invent Missing Information

Early relationships introduce another problem. We don't know the person yet and our brains don't particularly blank spaces. We fill them in.

Michelle calls this future casting: imagining what a relationship with someone might become before we have enough information to know. We've all done some version of this.

You meet someone. There's chemistry. You have a fantastic conversation. Suddenly your mind begins constructing the rest of the story. Maybe you've found your person. You're not falling for the person yet. You may be falling for your model of the person.

Future casting isn't bad. Imagining possibilities is part of deciding whether we want to pursue something. The danger is when imagination outruns evidence. A useful antidote:

Ask more questions.

The more you understand a person, the less information your imagination needs to manufacture.
 

Authenticity Is a Filtering Mechanism

People try to present the version of themselves most likely to be liked. If the goal is a lasting relationship, it creates an interesting problem.

Suppose you desperately want children. You meet someone you find extremely attractive, and you're afraid that bringing up children too soon will scare them away.

You wait.

Eventually you discover they absolutely don't want children. What did waiting accomplish? It didn't improve compatibility. It delayed discovering incompatibility. Being authentic does something uncomfortable but useful:

It allows the wrong people to reject us sooner.

That can feel like failure, when the immediate objective is getting another date. It looks quite different if the objective is finding a compatible partner.

The logic applies to employment.

A job interview isn't simply an opportunity for a company to determine whether it wants you. You're trying to determine whether you want the company. Ask what people enjoy about working there. Ask about the biggest challenges. Ask what surprised the interviewer after joining. Ask about the gap between your current skills and what the position requires. Ask whether the career path you're imagining actually exists.

The objective isn't:
Get the job.

It's:

Determine whether this relationship makes sense.
 

Conflict Doesn't Mean a Relationship Is Failing

Conflict provides information. It reveals differences that chemistry and politeness conceal. The question is what happens next. Repeated, safe communication, can develop respect. Respect over time creates trust. Conflict resolution isn't about eliminating disagreement. 

It's about creating enough safety that disagreement can reveal information without destroying the relationship. When we genuinely have done something wrong, Michelle offered a simple sequence:

Acknowledge.
Apologize.
Make it right.
Commit.

Notice what's missing -  a lengthy explanation of why you did it.Sometimes explanation matters. Sometimes it becomes a disguised defense. What if you genuinely don't believe you did anything wrong? You can acknowledge what happened without falsely accepting blame.

I understand that this upset you.

That's different from:

I admit that your interpretation of what happened is correct.

Understanding someone's experience doesn't require surrendering yours.
 

The Goal Isn't Winning the Argument

There is a useful question underneath this:

What are we trying to accomplish?

If the objective is proving who's right, then gathering evidence against your partner makes perfect sense. If the objective is preserving and improving the relationship, the strategy changes.

You can disagree.
You can have boundaries.
You can decide someone's behavior is unacceptable.
You can decide the relationship should end.

You're evaluating the conflict against the outcome you want. That's different from defending your position. Sometimes the surface disagreement gets resolved, while the underlying problem remains.

The spoons get rearranged.
The text gets answered.
The money gets replaced.
Someone apologizes.

The argument returns in another form if the real question was never addressed.

Do you hear me?
Can I trust you?
Do you respect what matters to me?
Are we trying to build the same kind of life?

Those questions are harder than deciding where the spoons belong. They're likely to tell us what's actually happening.
 

Start With Curiosity

Relationships become easier to understand when we stop assuming that our first interpretation is the correct one. When something feels wrong, instead of immediately deciding what it means, investigate:

What happened?
What did I interpret it to mean?
What does the other person think happened?
What does this issue represent to them?
Do they want me to listen, guide, or help?
What outcome are we actually trying to achieve?

Those questions don't guarantee agreement. They separate the event from the story we're telling ourselves about an event. 

That separation is enough to discover that perhaps the relationship problem we've been trying to solve isn't the problem at all.

This article is based on my conversation with Michelle Hoffmann, a life and relationship coach whose work extends beyond romantic relationships to family, friendships, and professional relationships. Our discussion explored how people interpret experiences, how relationships develop, why conflicts often represent something deeper than the immediate disagreement, and practical ways to communicate more clearly. Michelle's central idea is that “relationshipping” is something we actively do—a set of skills for connecting with other people rather than simply a state we happen to be in.

Listen or Watch

The Episode with Michelle Hoffmann

About the Author & Host

Daniel Stih is an aerospace engineer, software engineer, indoor environmental consultant, and author of 12 books. Through engineering, investigations, and interdisciplinary research, he explores how people define problems, interpret evidence, and make conclusions when there's uncertainty. Learn more in Why I Think This Way.