Tuesday Thoughts And You missed it

Isabelle
Aug 11
3 min read

Hi Friends,

I recently watched a short social media skit that has stayed with me ever since. In it, a woman tells her partner, "I'm sad." He barely looks up, brushes it off with something like, "You'll be fine," and goes back to what he was doing. There was no curiosity, no follow-up question, no invitation for her to share more.

So she opens ChatGPT instead.

She types, "I'm sad."

The response is immediate: "I'm so sorry you're feeling that way. Do you want to tell me what's going on?"

What follows is a conversation where she feels heard, understood, and encouraged to keep talking.

It was just a skit, and I know AI isn't a substitute for genuine human connection. But it struck a chord because it reflected something many of us have experienced at one time or another. Sometimes, all we really want is for someone to pause, notice us, and care enough to ask one more question.

Gottman talked about a moment where a spouse wants to show the other partner a bird they have seen. He actually studied couples and found that those who stopped and "turned toward" and engaged and noticed ended up having much more successful relationships. It's so simple, so fleeting, isn't it?

And yet we feel noticed and seen and heard, and that makes us feel loved. True?

We often think relationships end because of one explosive fight, one act of betrayal, or one life-changing event. Sometimes they do. But more often, relationships slowly erode through hundreds of moments that seem too small to matter on their own.

This is one of the principles that relationship researcher, John Gottman has spent decades studying. He calls it turning toward. Every time someone shares a thought, a worry, a dream, a frustration, or even says something as simple as, "I'm sad," they're making what Gottman calls a bid for connection.

In that moment, we have a choice.

We can turn toward them by showing interest, empathy, and curiosity, or we can turn away by dismissing, ignoring, or minimizing what they're trying to share.

Looking back, I don't believe my marriage fell apart because of one catastrophic argument. It unraveled through countless misunderstandings, missed opportunities to truly hear one another, and too many moments when I felt alone despite sharing a home with someone else. There were times when I longed for understanding but felt dismissed instead. There were conversations where I hoped for comfort and walked away feeling diminished. Over the years, those moments accumulated until loneliness became more familiar than connection.

That is why Gottman's research resonates with me so deeply. It reminds us that healthy relationships aren't built only during vacations, anniversaries, or heartfelt conversations.

They are built—or weakened—in the ordinary moments that happen every single day.

And this principle extends far beyond marriage.

Think about your friendships. When a friend says, "I've had such a hard week," they may not be asking you to fix anything. They may simply be hoping you'll stay with them in that moment instead of rushing past it.

Think about your adult children. When they call after work to tell you about a difficult meeting or an exciting opportunity, they aren't always looking for advice. Sometimes they're simply asking, "Will you step into my world for a few minutes? Will you care about what matters to me?"

Turning toward someone doesn't require the perfect response. It doesn't mean having all the answers or saying exactly the right thing. Often, it simply means putting down your phone, making eye contact, listening without interrupting, and saying, "Tell me more."

Ironically, a fictional conversation with AI reminded me of something deeply human. Technology isn't replacing our need for connection. If anything, it's exposing just how hungry we all are to feel seen, heard, and understood.

Perhaps that's the invitation for all of us this week.

Whether we're talking with a spouse, a lifelong friend, an adult child, or even a neighbor, we have countless opportunities to turn toward one another instead of away. Those moments may seem small, but they are rarely insignificant. They are the quiet building blocks of trust, closeness, and belonging.

Maybe the most powerful words we can offer someone today aren't words of wisdom at all. Maybe they're simply, "I'm so sorry. Tell me more."

PS: Message me for a free consult to start moving toward a more confident you.

You are loved. Deeply loved. Loved beyond measure.

Until next time,

Isabelle