Kitchen Table Relationship Rebuild: How We’re Finding Our Way Back After Burnout
6 practices for couples who want to reconnect without starting over
For the scrollers, the skimmers, and the “cut to the chase” folks—this part’s for you.
In a partnership where you love each other but are stuck?
My partner Ari and I are offering 2 couples the chance to rebuild with us in a beta coaching round.
Click the link to apply. Or scroll down for the full story.
Ari comes in the front door from work.
I used to get up to greet him, but I don’t anymore. I know what I’ll be met with: a heavy face, unsmiling. A brief hug that feels tight and distant.
So I stay where I am, curled on the red sectional, scrolling my phone.
“Hey,” I say.
He sighs, collapses onto the couch, feet up, eyes closed.
Sometimes he gets up to cook with me. Sometimes he doesn’t. Tonight I didn’t wait to find out; I already ate. I’ve also learned not to push for conversation. It almost always ends in frustration.
Everyone in our circle has gently, repeatedly told Ari what I’ve been saying for years: the job is killing him. It’s draining the life out of him and out of us. But he won’t, or can’t, let it go.
We love each other. Truly. We’re kind. We want to be close. But sometimes that closeness gets buried under a thousand small distances. Like this one. Like the fucking job that’s slowly disintegrating his soul and dragging us down with it.
At this point, we were twelve years into our marriage. Ari was five years into the job.
I hit my wall. I felt unhappy, burned out, helpless. But I kept going.
I stayed in my marriage because I love Ari too much to leave, but it's killing me and us to stay.
I’m a relationship coach, after all. I’ve helped hundreds of couples find their way back to connection.
Now I’m the one who needs help.
That’s when we began a process we are now calling a Kitchen Table Relationship Rebuild.
It wasn’t an interpersonal issue destroying my marriage. It was two things:
First, a part of my partner that craves financial security so bad he will sacrifice his own physical and mental health to achieve it.
Second, capitalism: we are stuck in jobs, a mortgage, and debt that trap us in systems we cannot sustain, but must endure.
Ari has an enduring shape. He could have continued like that, miserable, until he died young of a stress-related illness.
But I couldn't. And I couldn’t watch him do that, either.
Things had to change, or I was going to need to leave the relationship, regardless of how much we love each other.
Things were at a breaking point.
So we did what our couples therapist had repeatedly warned us never to do:
We put the relationship on the table.
Both literally and figuratively.
Literally, we took a huge piece of white paper, and spent ~80 hours mapping all areas of our relationship.
Sex, money, family, celebration, collaboration, household, creativity, community, spirituality… on and on it went. We assessed our vows and commitments we had made at our wedding.
We were both unhappy about what we saw: misalignment of values and practices, huge important relational areas being neglected, and especially that we were not having any fun!
Figuratively, we decided to take a long break from our marriage.
Ari got a new job and moved back to California. I went to India for six months solo.
During the time apart, we each did our own internal work.
We learned how to exist on our own, after living as a couple for 14 years.
It was a hard, beautiful time.
We talked almost every day. We witnessed each other's rhythms like watching a stranger. How did he organize his days? How did I meet my own needs?
When I came back, we were so happy to reunite, but there was no map for how to be together again.
Love was still there. We care about each other deeply.
Willingness was there.
We were both rooted again in sovereignty, but needed to find our way back to connection.
The foundation we'd built together when we met 15 years ago had been strong and sufficient for then, for raising a family and making a cross-country move, and building several businesses.
But we are different people now. There had been some drift from our agreements. Some values had shifted.
We pulled out the white paper, and harvested what we wanted to keep.
We burned the rest.
Since then, we’ve been doing a Kitchen Table Relationship Rebuild.
Most couples in this situation either white-knuckle it, break up, or outsource repair to therapy, retreats, or date nights that feel like work.
We’re doing something different. We’re rebuilding at the kitchen table. Just us, together, at home.
Kitchen Table because it's D-I-T (Doing-It-Together) with the mindset that we can figure our way through together. Rather than being in therapy (don't get me wrong: I love couples therapy and we've done a lot of it), we meet twice a week to examine patterns, set up systems, dream, and inhabit a new way of being together.
Also, kitchen table because it's homey. We are choosing our process and making it comfortable and cozy for us.
We are aiming for a relationship that matches who we are now, 15 years after falling in love. We are building a new relationship where our practices align with our values NOW.
It's important to note that we’re not fixing a crisis. There wasn’t infidelity or a big relationship rupture. We are updating the agreements and values that are not current. It's like taking off clothes that no longer fit, and exchanging them for something that not only fits, but that feels extraordinary and sparkles too.
It's not a six-step plan, but hundreds of conversations, tweaks, small adjustments. For example, Ari is learning to be okay when I have feelings, and not move to fix them. I am coming down from the safety of my better-than position and not constantly critiquing. We’re both growing as individuals, which means the relationship has to stretch, too.
6 Things We’re Learning to Do Differently at the Kitchen Table
1. Speaking for our parts, not from our parts.
IFS (Internal Family Systems, AKA Parts Work) is having its moment in the sun, and we're into it. We each belong (separately) to an Authentic Communication Group (ACG), where the goal is to identify and give voice to the parts of ourselves that are emerging in response to other group members. It's arduous, beautiful work in honesty and self-awareness. When we are in harder conversations, IFS has been an incredibly useful framework to make sure the louder parts get airtime, but also the quieter parts. And when conveying a controversial opinion, it's helpful for the person listening to know that this is merely one part of a bigger whole.
2. Repairing after rupture, every single time.
Gottman studies indicate this is the biggest predictor of relationship longevity and success. In our wedding vows, Ari and I committed to repairing with each other, always. We know that repair can look lots of different ways; it doesn't mean going back to the way things were before the conflict. But this commitment, and the enactment of it, has built our secure attachment to each other over time. We know there is never going to be a conflict to end all conflicts.
3. Getting curious about our own needs and each other's needs.
We've agreed that everyone's needs matter. For folks who grew up in families where you had to compete for resources to get your needs met, knowing that both of you hold the value that everyone's needs are important is a game-changer, maybe even a life-changer.
4. Speaking what's true, even when it is hard.
Although I am typically averse to famous white guru ladies, Brene Brown's got something here. We have no secrets. We do have privacy, which is a different post. But the true things must be named for our relationship to be built with the strongest possible foundation.
5. Getting clear on what is mine and what is yours.
So much transference and projection happens in relationships. Ever had your partner tell you what you were feeling? As in, "You seem really pissed off right now." But you are feeling sad or hurt. How was that to receive? Or if they say, "I don't think you actually want to go see my family," when that’s what they are themselves feeling, but projecting it onto you as blame? Yeah, no. We've been lovingly handing back those projections. "That's not mine, thank you."
6. Disrupting downward spin cycles of anxiety.
This has been a hard one. One of us (not naming names) tends to channel anxiety into money worries. That means the person is feeling anxious, but blames their internal feelings on an external situation, like money. Then, because it is hard to win an argument against "the numbers," that person will spin out in a way that is never helpful. And when invited to consider that's what's happening, the spinning part gets angry and insists there is never room to be heard, although we have structures set up to talk about finances, and an agreement that we are grounded when we discuss money.
The other person has had to set and hold clear boundaries: we don't discuss money when you are spinning anxiously. There is a time and place for that. I am walking away now. And then bear the discomfort of walking away when their beloved is having a hard time.
And one bonus practice: Readjusting the power balance between us! (Lots of talking and naming.)
The Other Thing We’re Learning: More Joy.
We’re also learning how to have more fun again. We’re playing and gallivanting. There’s more laughter at the table these days, and that matters just as much as the tough conversations.
A Quiet Invitation
As part of this rebuild, Ari and I are exploring moving into somatic couples coaching private practice together. We’re training in Relational Life Therapy with Terry Real.
Starting in August, we are offering a beta series of couples sessions.
We’ll be integrating Relational Life Therapy with somatic couples coaching. We are experimenting with working as a queer couple, holding space for other couples (of all varieties.) Session rates will be reduced as we explore.
We’re looking for two couples who feel a reflection of this post in your own relationship.
Couples who love each other but are stuck in patterns that no longer match who you are now.
Couples who want to stay together but know something has to change.
If you’re ready to rebuild, not from scratch but from this moment, we’re inviting you to walk this process with us.
We’ll meet for 5-8 sessions, get real about what’s working and what’s not, and build something new. More connection. More honesty. More laughter.
If this sparks something for you, you can learn more and apply here:
Love what you're doing! Yay for you guys! Beautiful pic! :)