You Don't Want to be Right - You Want to be Understood
You Don't Want to be Right - You Want to be Understood
Most of us have been there: you win the argument, you’ve got the airtight case, and your partner finally sighs and says, “Fine, you’re right.” And yet—you don’t feel closer. You feel lonelier. Because deep down, you weren’t fighting for facts. You were fighting to be understood.
Listen or Read Below.
If this episode spoke to you, would you leave a ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ rating and review on Apple Podcasts? Your support helps more couples find the show.
Prefer Spotify? You’ll find the show there too.
The Hollow Victory of Being “Right”
You know that moment—you’ve lined up your receipts, delivered your final punch, and technically, you’ve won. But instead of relief, there’s a hollow pit in your stomach. Your partner is quiet, withdrawn, or defensive. You walk away with the trophy of rightness, but no one is cheering.
My clients tell me this all the time: “I proved my point, but I felt lonelier than before.” Because the truth is, victory in conflict isn’t about winning—it’s about feeling seen.
What This Fight Is Really About
Arguments rarely erupt because of laundry, dishes, or who forgot to send the text. Those are surface sparks. What’s underneath is something raw and tender: Do you see me? Do I matter to you?
This is why “winning” feels so empty. Your nervous system isn’t hungry for agreement—it’s wired for attunement. You don’t need your partner to sign off on every detail. You need to feel like they’re standing in your shoes for a moment.
The Pattern We Fall Into
My clients describe these fights like being on trial. One person makes a claim, and the other starts flipping through mental receipts. “I did bedtime twice this week.” “You’re exaggerating, I only asked once.” Suddenly, no one remembers the original issue—you’re litigating who’s right.
I’ve been there too. With John, I’ve caught myself stacking invisible evidence: every time I took out the trash, every hidden task I handled. It was my internal defense file, ready to prove I wasn’t the problem. But even when I “won,” we didn’t end up closer.
That’s the trap: scorekeeping feels like progress in the moment, but it buries the deeper need—to feel cared about.
The Cruel Loop
Here’s how the cycle usually spirals:
You feel dismissed → you raise your voice.
They feel accused → they get defensive.
You stack more evidence → they pull away.
Both of you end up exhausted, unseen, and disconnected.
Two people building walls out of facts, brick by brick, until the fortress between you is too tall to climb.
What’s Happening Underneath
When you feel misunderstood, your body doesn’t treat it like a small irritation. It treats it like a threat. Your chest tightens, your voice sharpens, your mind races to defend. That’s your nervous system flipping into survival mode.
Think of it like a fire alarm. It doesn’t care whether it’s burnt toast or a five-alarm blaze—it just screams. Misunderstanding in a relationship is the burnt toast. But your alarm goes off full volume anyway, and until it’s reset, you’ll react like the house is burning down.
This is why proving you’re right feels so urgent: your nervous system believes agreement will silence the alarm. But only understanding—only feeling truly seen—restores safety.
Two Paths in Conflict
Picture two possible loops.
The Conflict Loop: You’re misunderstood, adrenaline surges, and suddenly it’s the “who’s right” Olympics. You both leave drained.
The Connection Loop: The goal isn’t victory—it’s understanding. You say, “I need you to know why this mattered to me.” Your partner responds with empathy. The fight softens.
I’ve lived both. On the conflict path, I’m clinging to receipts, desperate to prove I’m not crazy. On the connection path, when John says, “I hear you, and I get why you felt that way,” my whole body exhales. The argument dissolves, not because I won, but because I felt seen.
A Simple Shift
You don’t have to choose the Connection Loop every time. You’re human. But imagine if even a few fights ended with empathy instead of exhaustion. That small shift can change the story of your relationship.
Here’s the tool I give my clients—and use myself:
Pause. Take one breath. Ask yourself:
“Do I want to be right, or do I want to feel close?”
That question interrupts the cycle. It reminds you there’s another option besides proving your case—you can reach for connection.
Micro-Practices for Real Life
Try these the next time you feel yourself spiraling:
Ask the real question. Rightness or closeness?
Name your need. Say: “I don’t need you to agree with me, I just need to know you understand where I’m coming from.”
Notice your body. Shoulders dropping, breath steadying—these are signs you’re shifting into connection.
Debrief after. If the fight still got messy, circle back later: “What I really needed was to feel heard.”
These aren’t magic spells, but each small pause builds trust and safety over time.
Closing Reflection
Winning an argument can feel satisfying in the moment, but closeness—not correctness—is what makes relationships safe and strong. You don’t need to rehearse every receipt to matter. You need to feel seen.
So the next time you’re tempted to prove your point, try the pivot. Pause. Breathe. Choose closeness over victory. Your relationship doesn’t need a winner—it needs understanding.
