Six Prompts That Keep Our Marriage Connected (Even When It’s Hard)
My wife and I were beginning to drift apart. I could feel it. She could feel it. But it didn’t get addressed until we took a week to celebrate our 12th anniversary and traveled to Seattle.
Despite her spending hours planning the trip and trying to include me, I was too busy to pay much attention. I just figured it would work out fine. I did tell her I didn’t want back-to-back activities and hoped we’d have some time to just relax.
Our time in Seattle was filled with tension. On the way home, I brought it up, and she cried. We began to connect again by talking about what was alive inside for both of us. It was hard, but it broke the ice that neither of us had been able to acknowledge.
By the time of that drive home, we had already made a lot of progress in how we communicate. Earlier in our relationship, a moment like that could have turned into days of silence or defensiveness. I remember one long road trip years before, when Kathy got quiet and I assumed something was wrong. I asked if she was upset, and she said she wasn’t ready to talk about it. I agreed to give her space, but after an hour of silence, my anxiety built. I asked again, and she felt pressured. What I didn’t understand at the time was that her parts had become activated and needed space, while mine had become anxious and needed reassurance. Without realizing it, our parts began reacting to each other - one withdrawing, the other pursuing - and the distance between us grew.
That experience, and others like it, taught me how easy it is for two people’s nervous systems to become entangled. Coregulation can only happen when both partners have the capacity for self-regulation. When one depends on the other to manage their inner state, the relationship becomes lopsided. The one who self-regulates can begin to feel responsible for maintaining peace, forming a subtle dependency on being needed. It’s an exhausting pattern I’d lived out before, one that always ended in resentment and disconnection.
So by the time of that anniversary trip, both of us had done enough personal work to take responsibility for our own internal experiences. That foundation made it possible to begin the kind of honest dialogue we had on the drive home - and later, the weekly connection practice that grew from it.
That day in the car was a turning point. It taught us that disconnection doesn’t fix itself. It takes courage to name what’s happening inside and a willingness to stay open long enough for understanding to emerge. Out of that conversation, Kathy and I made a covenant to keep choosing connection - even when it’s uncomfortable.
Every Sunday, we each take time during the day to reflect and journal using a set of six prompts. We write privately first, without filters or edits, so we can be honest with ourselves before we try to express it to each other. Later, we meet over dinner and take turns answering each question one at a time. One week I begin with the first prompt; the next week, she does. This rhythm helps us stay balanced, giving each of us space to speak and to listen.
These questions only work because we’ve both done enough personal work to take responsibility for our own internal reactions. When one of us feels defensive, we know it’s a part that needs attention, not a signal to blame or fix the other. That understanding creates the conditions for these conversations to be healing rather than harmful.
The Six Prompts for Connection
Here are the six prompts we use each week:
What is alive inside - and do I have any requests?
What needs to be said that hasn’t been - and do I have any requests?
What feels unresolved - and do I have any requests?
What feels scary to talk about - and do I have any requests?
What does my week look like? How might you be impacted?
Have I kept my commitments from last week and before?
1. What is alive inside - and do I have any requests?
This question invites each of us to pause and notice what’s happening right now: thoughts, emotions, sensations, impulses, and energy. What’s alive inside can be peaceful or turbulent - it doesn’t matter. Sometimes I’m aware of a tired or irritable part; sometimes I notice excitement or gratitude. Speculating about what’s underneath is fine too, because curiosity itself reveals what’s alive. The question helps us stay present to the evolving context of our inner world.
2. What needs to be said that hasn’t been - and do I have any requests?
This one often feels tender. It’s where we bring up things that could otherwise grow into resentment. We speak from personal responsibility, watching for parts that want to blame or make the other responsible. Instead of “You always…” we stay factual and speak from “I.” For example, I might say, “Yesterday, I noticed you reacted when I said something, and I have a request - would you help me understand your reaction or let me know if I misread your body language?” Sometimes these requests are emotional; sometimes they’re practical. Kathy once asked me to wash my hands before unloading the dishwasher - a small request, but an act of care that matters to her.
3. What feels unresolved - and do I have any requests?
This question helps us notice what’s still hanging in the air. It might be a conversation we started but didn’t finish, or something that feels incomplete but not necessarily stuck. Simply naming what’s unresolved often brings relief and leads to deeper clarity. At times, that clarity includes a specific request or a decision to revisit something later. It was this kind of honest naming - on that long drive home - that led me to ask Kathy if we could find a better way to stay connected when things got hard.
4. What feels scary to talk about - and do I have any requests?
By the time we reach this question, the earlier ones have already softened the ground. What once felt risky to reveal now feels safer. Still, we go slowly. Early on, we learned not to answer all six prompts at once. Instead, we take turns responding to one question at a time: I share first on #1, she responds and then shares her thoughts about #1. Then she begins #2. That rhythm prevents overwhelm and keeps us connected.
5. What does my week look like? How might you be impacted?
This question brings our focus back to daily life. It’s practical, but it matters because our schedules, energy, and choices ripple into each other’s world. This is where we plan and negotiate - when to shop for groceries, whether it works to have guests over, or how her week might be affected if I plan to be gone or busy in my office. Talking about logistics through this lens keeps them relational, not transactional.
6. Have I kept my commitments from last week and before?
Here, we look back. The requests that emerged in previous conversations become gentle commitments. When we check in, we each report on how we’re doing with our own. If a shared commitment has broken down, we explore what happened. Did someone forget? Is it no longer important? Do we need to modify it or recommit? This turns accountability into collaboration, not scorekeeping.
These Sunday conversations have become a rhythm we both look forward to. They don’t eliminate tension, but they keep disconnection from growing roots. The prompts have helped us practice the balance between honesty and compassion, self-responsibility and curiosity.
Over time, we’ve discovered that connection isn’t a fixed state - it’s a living process that needs tending. Each question helps us notice what’s true inside, name what’s incomplete, and create shared understanding before defensiveness has a chance to take hold. What began as an experiment after a painful anniversary trip has become one of the most grounding practices of our marriage. It’s how we stay attuned, not by avoiding disconnection, but by facing it together.
If you’re reading this and feel inspired to try these prompts, start gently. These questions invite honesty, and honesty can feel risky if open communication hasn’t been part of your relationship’s rhythm. Take time to build enough trust inside yourself and between you to hold what arises. The goal isn’t to do it perfectly - it’s to practice staying curious, compassionate, and connected as you both learn. When each person takes responsibility for their own inner world, these conversations can become one of the safest and most intimate spaces you share.
