#12 You don't need to win the fight - you need to repair the connection

Let’s be honest — even if you’ve read every relationship book on the market, binge-listened to therapy podcasts, and can quote Brené Brown backwards while making school lunches — you’ll still find yourself in the middle of an ugly fight sometimes. With your partner, your teenager or the taxi cutting in front of you.

It’s okay. You’re human.

That moment where your tone sharpens, your voice raises, and suddenly you’re saying things that sound suspiciously like your parents? That’s not failure — that’s biology. When we feel threatened, our brains do what they were designed to do: protect us. We go into fight, flight, or freeze mode. We stop hearing nuance, we stop being curious, and our nervous system shouts: "Survive!".

The trick isn’t to never go there (let me know if you figure out how?). The trick is to notice when you do — and learn how to find your way back faster.

And that, right there, is where the magic word comes in: repair.

What Repair Really Means

Repair doesn’t mean admitting defeat or grovelling your way back into connection. It doesn’t mean, “You were right and I was wrong.”

Repair means saying, “I can see how I contributed to this disconnection.” It’s the moment you shift from proving your point to rebuilding your bridge. It’s a quiet courage — the kind that whispers, “Connection matters more than being right.”

Repair is not about giving up. It’s not compromise or self-erasure. It’s about taking responsibility for your part — your tone, your withdrawal, your defensiveness — whatever it is that you brought into the space between you.

Because that “space between” is sacred. It’s the field where the relationship lives. And when we pollute it with blame, sarcasm, or silence - repair is how we clean the air again.

Beyond Right and Wrong

Rumi said it beautifully:

That field — the field beyond who started it or who’s right or whose fault is it this time — is where real love breathes again. It’s the space where we drop our defenses and simply say, “I miss us.” Where we choose connection over ego.

And here’s the thing: even the best communicators rupture and repair, rupture and repair, again and again. It’s the rhythm of every close relationship — romantic, parental, even professional.

The goal isn’t perfection; it’s recovery. The measure of love isn’t how few arguments you have — it’s how gently and how soon you find your way back to each other.

So Next Time You Argue…

Don’t aim to win. Aim to repair.

Take a breath. Notice your body — the clenched jaw, the shallow breathing, the racing thoughts. That’s your nervous system doing its job.

And when you’ve calmed enough to reach for your partner (or your child, or your friend), do it with humility, not a closing argument.

Try:

• “I can see I shut you out.”

• “I got defensive — that wasn’t fair.”

• “Can we start again?”

• "The story I made up was..."

Small words, big healing.

Because at the end of the day, winning feels good for five minutes. Repairing feels good for life.