Book Summary: Us, by Terry Real

1. Chapter 1: Which Version of You Shows Up to Your Relationship?
   Terry Real opens by observing that nothing triggers us like our intimate relationships – some couples become a “hailstorm and tortoise” pair where one partner constantly fights and the other shuts down, leaving them either in endless conflict or living “alone together” in emotional distance. Real introduces his central question: Which part of you is running the show when you’re upset? He distinguishes between the Wise Adult (the mature, present self) and the Adaptive Child (the younger, wounded self who reacts from past hurts). In heated moments, our nervous system goes into fight-or-flight and the brain’s higher reasoning shuts off. We flip into that Adaptive Child state – a child’s makeshift version of an adult personality – which sees the partner as an adversary and “the present *through the prism of the past”. Real vividly contrasts the traits of these two modes: the Adaptive Child is rigid, black-and-white, perfectionistic and harsh, whereas the Wise Adult is nuanced, forgiving, flexible and warm. The key insight is that the coping style that saved us in childhood (“adaptive then”) becomes destructive in our marriage (“maladaptive now”). This ingrained stress response – be it fight, flight, or fix – becomes our default relational stance, the thing we repeatedly do under threat.

   Real encourages relational mindfulness: a practice of pausing in those trigger moments to breathe and choose a better response. He calls this act of self-interruption “relational heroism” – when every impulse is telling you to do the same old destructive thing, but you summon the awareness and courage to do something different. For example, instead of yelling back or stonewalling, you might take a few deep breaths (“in close relationships, urgency is your enemy and **breath is your friend”) and speak from your Wise Adult. Real asks clients point-blank whether it’s their mature self or their “trauma-triggered” child self in charge at a given time. By learning to recognize this, partners can avoid letting that flooded, survival-mode brain hijack their interactions. In essence, Chapter 1 sets the stage: when conflict strikes, remember love and get back into your right mind. Only the Wise Adult part of us is capable of maintaining the vulnerable intimacy that relationships require; the Adaptive Child, by contrast, seeks self-protection at all costs, even if it means sabotaging closeness. Real’s therapeutic approach centers on helping couples notice when they’re in this reactive child state and guiding them back to a calmer, more loving stance.

2. Chapter 2: The Myth of the Individual
   In Chapter 2, Real challenges the Western ideal of the self-sufficient “rugged individual.” He explains that modern neuroscience shows humans are profoundly relational: “Our brains are built for co-regulation,” he writes, meaning we literally borrow steadiness from each other. For example, he recounts how a client named Ernesto, in a rage, was able to calm down by “borrowing” Real’s prefrontal cortex – essentially, Ernesto’s nervous system used the therapist’s calm presence to regain equilibrium. This is a striking illustration that we are not isolated beings; “we are individuals, yes, but individuals whose very existence is predicated on belonging”. Real cites neurobiologist Dan Siegel’s finding that the brain is a social organ and that connection is as essential as air or food. He argues that the cultural story of the lone, independent self is deeply misleading: “The idea of a freestanding rugged individual is a cultural fiction having little to do with the truth”. In reality, our nervous systems were never designed to self-regulate in isolation – we all stabilize our well-being through others.

   This chapter contrasts “you-and-me” consciousness (individualistic, adversarial thinking) with “us” consciousness(a view that puts the relationship first). Real explores how many of us have internalized an individualistic mindset that prizes being right, being independent, or winning – often to the detriment of our relationships. He points out that the Adaptive Child part of our brain often mirrors cultural values like competition, control, or achievement, which might lead to success at work but wreak havoc at home. An example is how some people (often men) default to instrumental thinking – focusing on tasks or being “correct” – and forget to attune to their partner’s feelings, an approach bound to create disconnection. Real emphasizes that in love, insisting on objective reality or who’s “factually right” is a losing game: “Objective reality is great for trains running on time or developing a vaccine, but in interpersonal matters it’s a loser”, he quips. Rather than two people battling over the one “truth,” intimate partners must negotiate between two valid subjective realities. In other words, relational health means asking “Who cares who’s right? How do we fix this together?”. By debunking the myth of pure individualism, Real prepares the ground for a new mindset: thinking of ourselves as interdependent parts of a larger “us,” not isolated “I”s.

3. Chapter 3: How Us Gets Lost and You and Me Takes Over
   Here Real zeroes in on how our childhood adaptations hijack our adult conflicts, eroding the sense of “us.” He explains that each person has a learned adaptive child strategy formed in their family of origin, and under stress we reflexively replay it. Our Adaptive Child is shaped both by modeling (we internalize the behaviors we saw growing up) and reaction (we do the opposite of what hurt us). For instance, a child smothered by an intrusive parent may build thick walls in adult relationships, whereas a child who felt abandoned might become clinging or controlling as an adult. Either way, we tend to over-react in present disagreements because we are “reliving” old trauma, not just remembering it. Real says when you’re disproportionately upset, it’s often the Adaptive Child flaring up to protect old wounds. Unfortunately, that part of us favors self-protection over connection every time. He identifies the five “losing strategies” this child part typically uses in conflict: the need to be right, controlling your partner, unbridled emotional expression (venting every feeling), retaliating, and withdrawing into silence. These knee-jerk tactics are how “us” gets lost – they pit partners against each other (“you vs. me”) and block any productive resolution. Real’s mantra is “adaptive then, maladaptive now,” reminding us that the very defenses that helped us survive childhood (shutting down, fighting back, people-pleasing, etc.) are precisely what sabotage our intimacy in adulthood.

   To illustrate, he might describe a client whose strict upbringing taught him to always fight for the last word (being “right” was his childhood survival skill). Now, with his wife, that same reflex just creates endless arguments. Recognizing these patterns is the first step. Real often asks clients, “Where did you learn to do this?” and traces it back to early family dynamics. He also notes that we tend to pick partners who reenact aspects of our family – “we all marry our unfinished business,” as he puts it. Chapter 3 encourages owning these ingrained stances and beginning to do something radically different. Real even suggests a compassionate inner dialogue with your younger self: when you feel that child part “kick up,” pause and figuratively put your arms around that upset inner child. Reassure them (“I hear you”), but take their “sticky hands off the steering wheel” of your behavior. In practice, this means not letting the panicked little boy or girl within you run a 40-year-old’s marriage. Only your Wise Adult, Real reminds us, actually wants true intimacy. The Adaptive Child in charge will choose self-defense or grandiose superiority over vulnerability every time, which leads to disconnection. By soothing our inner child and asserting our adult self, we reclaim the possibility of an “us” even in moments of conflict. Real calls this shift from automatic reaction to conscious response the essence of relational growth.

4. Chapter 4: The Individualist at Home
   In this chapter, Real examines how the broader culture of individualism plays out between partners. He describes two common personality types he sees in couples: the “rugged individualist” and the “romantic individualist.”The rugged individualist is all about personal rights, self-reliance, and not being controlled – the classic “Don’t tell me what to do” mindset. This person prizes fairness and freedom, and bristles at any suggestion that they should change (“I have a right to feel this way!”). In contrast, the romantic individualist prioritizes personal expression and authenticity – they believe in speaking their unique truth and being fully seen. They’re driven by a need to share their feelings and often insist on emotional honesty at all costs. Real notes these two orientations often pair up in heterosexual couples: for example, a conflict-avoidant, self-sufficient husband (rugged type) with an emotionally intense, expressive wife (romantic type). The result is a familiar pursuer-withdrawer dance. The more one partner nags or “unbridledly” vents their unhappiness, the more the other digs in or distances. Each sees the other as the problem – “he shuts me out” vs. “she’s never satisfied.” Real wryly observes that when a woman is in a grandiose, angry-victim stance (feeling entitled to lash out because she’s been hurt), she can be as difficult to deal with as any stubborn man. These gender observations underscore that grandiosity (feeling above the need to listen) is not limited to men; anyone can fall into an entitled, self-justified anger that blocks intimacy.

   Real invites readers to consider how their family upbringing trained them in one stance or the other. Were you the “hero” child who never complained, the rebel, or the quiet people-pleaser? And are you repeating those strategies now with your spouse? This reflection can be eye-opening. He then calls out a phenomenon he terms “privileged obliviousness.” Often seen in the more self-focused partner, it’s a blind spot where you literally don’t register your impact on others. For instance, a workaholic husband might genuinely think everything is fine because his needs are met, oblivious to his wife’s loneliness. Such rugged individualists consider themselves autonomous and may take others (often wives or support people) for granted. On the other side, romantic individualists may excel at empathy and feeling each other’s pain, but that’s not enough – empathy without action still leaves needs unmet. Real points out that recent generations have been schooled in personal growth and “speaking your truth,” but not in relationalgrowth. Both rugged and romantic flavors of individualism, in different ways, steer the couple away from a sense of teamwork. The antidote Real proposes is shifting to “us consciousness.” In an us mindset, if one partner “wins” an argument while the other loses, both ultimately lose, because the hurt partner will make the relationship suffer. True relational thinking looks for win-win: What would help both of us feel closer? This chapter drives home that competition and zero-sum thinking (you vs. me) is toxic in love. The legacy of unbridled individualism is disconnection and loneliness. Real urges couples to replace the notions of “me” and “you” with “we” – not by losing oneself, but by committing to the higher priority of the relationship. When both people do that, no one has to give up dignity or truth; instead, they gain the security of being in life together rather than alone.

5. Chapter 5: Start Thinking Like a Team
   By Chapter 5, Real shifts into practical mode, asking: if “us” is the goal, how do we get there? He notes that many couples come to therapy feeling stuck and resentful, each convinced they’re getting the unfair end of the deal. This victim mentality leads to a standoff – “I’ve tried everything, nothing works, and it’s all your fault.” Real flatly tells such couples that he has good news and bad news: “The good news is you can save this marriage; the bad news is that what you’re doing right now isn’t working”. In other words, continuing the same blame-and-demand tactics will not turn things around. He invites them to abandon what he calls the linear control model of relationships, where each person waits for the other to change or tries to force change (as if one of you must unilaterally control the other). Instead, he introduces the radical question: What if you two started acting as a team? Shifting into an “us” perspective means asking jointly, “What do we need to do to fix this problem?”. Real often finds that partners have “tried everything” except changing their own approach. So he asks each to consider experimenting with altering their stance to see if it elicits a better response from the other. This requires humility – stepping out of the comfortable role of complaining about your partner, and instead taking a leap of faith to do something different yourself. Real assures them this isn’t about taking blame; it’s about empowering each person to influence the relationship from within.

   A vivid example in this chapter is how couples handle a common flashpoint: sex and intimacy. Real highlights a typical scenario where one partner (say, the husband) is unhappy with their sex life. In a “you vs. me” mindset, he might grumble, “I can’t live the rest of my life without sex – I need more sex from you!” This approach, essentially a demand, usually backfires. Real jokes that some men’s idea of foreplay is a “public service announcement” that they’re horny – an utterly ineffective strategy. He coached one such husband to reframe the issue from individual need to team goal. Instead of “I won’t live without sex; you owe me this,” the husband learned to say, “We both deserve a fulfilling sex life; I miss you. What can we do together to make our intimacy better?”. This subtle change in language – from I vs. you to we – was pivotal. It shifted the conversation from a blame game to a shared project. Real notes how different it feels when someone says “we need a healthy sex life” instead of “I need more sex”. The former invites collaboration; the latter provokes defensiveness. From there, he encourages the discontent partner to actually engage: learn what turns your partner on, invest in romance outside the bedroom, make them feel valued rather than nagged. As he puts it bluntly to husbands, “If you want her, court her.” Don’t crack sarcastic jokes at her expense all day and then expect passionate lovemaking at night. Real observes that many men simplify all their emotional needs (for comfort, closeness, affirmation) into a single channel – sex – and then become a “one-note song,” seeking sex every time they feel lonely, scared, or insecure. This is unfair pressure on their partners and a disservice to themselves. The remedy is to broaden emotional communication: identify those underlying feelings and ask for non-sexual affection and support, instead of wordlessly sulking or pushing for sex as a cure-all. Overall, Chapter 5 drives home that thinking like a team fundamentally changes the tone: it replaces ultimatums with requests, and individual ultimatums (“I need this”) with mutual vision (“we both deserve this”). When both partners start pulling in the same direction – even if only one starts the shift – positive change in everything from problem-solving to the bedroom becomes far more attainable.

6. Chapter 6: You Cannot Love from Above or Below
   The title of Chapter 6 encapsulates one of Real’s core teachings: true love and connection can only exist between equals. He argues that healthy self-esteem is a stance of being “same-as” – neither one-down in shame nor one-up in shameless arrogance. If you secretly feel inferior to your partner, you can’t fully trust or receive love; if you feel superior, you can’t truly give love or respect. Real notes that our society trains us in a toxic ranking system – “Most of us have an exquisite sense of where we stand in any pecking order, but the truth is it’s 100% nonsense”. A human being simply cannot be fundamentally superior or inferior to another; all people have equal worth and dignity. Yet we live in a competitive culture that constantly urges us to be one-up or warns us we are one-down. This spills into marriage as either contempt or shame, both of which are poison. Real flatly states, “You cannot love from above or below.” If you approach your partner with contempt (looking down on them) or with self-loathing (feeling unworthy), real intimacy is blocked. In fact, he reveals that the same emotion drives both grandiosity and shame – contempt. Grandiosity is outward contempt (for others), and toxic shame is contempt turned inward (toward yourself). And contempt, in either form, is “emotional violence” that will destroy connection.

   So, Real urges couples to commit to what he calls Full-Respect Living – a zero-tolerance policy for contempt in any direction. Before you say something in anger, check yourself: “Does this fall below basic respect?” If it does, don’t say it. He even asks readers to take a pledge: no matter how upset you are, you will “swear off unkindness; swear off disrespect” towards your partner. And equally, you will refuse to tolerate disrespect from your partner – not by lashing back, but by calmly insisting on civility or, if necessary, walking away. In Real’s view, neither dishing it out nor silently taking it is healthy. “You may think someone deserves your rage, but you deserve to live a life free of rage,” he reminds us. To help clients break out of one-up/one-down dynamics, he suggests a daily exercise: jot down moments you felt superior or inferior that day, what triggered it, and how it felt in your body. People carry themselves differently when ashamed versus arrogant – maybe hunched shoulders versus puffed-up chest. By noticing these physical and mental cues, you can “intervene with yourself” and come back to center – back to an equal-footing mentality. Real also delves into distinguishing guilt vs. shame. He says feeling bad about your behavior (healthy guilt or remorse) is constructive – it shows you care and keeps you accountable. But feeling bad about your whole self (“I’m a terrible person”) is toxic shame, which actually makes you self-absorbed and stuck. The goal is to feel appropriate guilt when you mess up, without spiraling into destructive shame. And the way to move out of shame is to focus on the person you hurt. “Shame is all about you,” Real explains, “whereas guilt focuses your energy on the person you hurt”. Instead of wallowing, go apologize and ask how to make it right. For example, rather than groveling “I’m horrible, you should leave me,” a healthy response is: “I’m sorry I hurt you. What can I do to help you feel better?”. This shifts the attention to repair and reconnect. The chapter concludes with a reminder that we are part of a system – our marriage, family, society, even the planet. Seeing ourselves as “above” that system is an illusion, and seeing ourselves as “below” (like a doormat) is equally false. Real encourages being fully present in the here-and-now with your partner, because often when we feel “less than” or “more than,” we are actually lost in there-and-then – past traumas or ego trips that take us out of the current moment. Healing, therefore, involves staying present, banishing contempt, and meeting our loved one eye-to-eye on equal ground. Only there can real love between whole people take root.

7. Chapter 7: Your Fantasies Have Shattered, Your Real Relationship Can Begin
   This chapter deals with the inevitable disillusionment that sets in once the honeymoon phase fades or a major conflict erupts. Real’s message is hopeful: when our idealized fantasies of our partner shatter, we have the chance to build something more genuine. He encourages couples to use a crisis as a “springboard for transformation” – both personal transformation in each partner and a transformation of the marriage itself. It’s often when things fall apart (be it a big fight, a betrayal, or years of unmet needs boiling over) that partners are finally forced to change long-entrenched patterns. Real notes that even serious breaches like infidelity do not automatically spell the end; roughly two-thirds of marriages survive an affair. The determining factor is whether the couple can confront the issue honestly and grow from it. He normalizes that in every long relationship, our “imperfections will collide” – we will hurt and disappoint each other, sometimes deeply. In fact, he introduces the concept of “normal marital hatred.” It’s a provocative way to say that in a long-term relationship, it’s not unusual to at times feel intense anger or loathing toward your beloved. We’re only human, and living intimately with another person will push all our buttons. According to Real, a great relationship isn’t one that never has those moments; it’s one that handles them and repairs afterward. He describes the healthy relationship as moving through a continuous cycle: harmony, disharmony, and repair. In the initial harmony stage (the infatuation or “love without knowledge”), everything is rosy but you don’t yet truly know each other. Then inevitably comes disharmony (“knowledge without love”): the phase where you start seeing the real person, warts and all, and the bliss is interrupted by conflict, disillusionment, or boredom. Real quips that our culture is obsessed with the harmony phase – the romance, the passion – and has little tolerance for the next part. But, he argues, trust and intimacy are built by surviving the mess together, not by never having a mess at all. “It isn’t unbroken harmony that makes for trust... rather, it’s countless repetitions of repairing the mess,” he writes. In other words, a couple that knows how to fight and then genuinely make up will outlast one that simply avoids conflict but lets resentments fester. Real even offers a guideline: as long as about 30% of your relationship is aligned and positive, up to 70% can be misaligned – if you actively work to fix those misalignments. It’s a 70/30 principle implying that frequent friction isn’t fatal as long as you keep repairing and reconnecting. What’s fatal is the absence of repair.

   Real uses the example of infidelity to illustrate how “you and me” thinking versus “us” thinking plays out in crisis. He insists that an unfaithful partner must take full accountability – saying “I don’t know why I cheated” simply won’t cut it. In therapy he asks two crucial questions of the betrayer: (1) Did you cheat because of an internal issue – a sense of entitlement, selfishness, or “narcissism” where you put your gratification above the relationship? Or (2) was it more about the marriage becoming so distant or dead that you rationalized the affair (“the relationship wasn’t worth protecting anyway”)? Often it’s a mix of both. This analysis helps couples see what needs fixing: the cheater’s character and boundaries, the marriage’s intimacy and communication, or both. Real also describes the “love–lust split” dynamic: for example, a man who is a reliable, affectionate “good guy” at home but feels alive and powerful only in secret affairs. He has essentially split himself into two personas to fulfill different needs. Real’s challenge to such clients is blunt: “Grow up or pack up. The marriage you had is over; the only question is can you two forge a new one?”. Growing up means integrating those parts – bringing honesty, erotic vitality, and responsibility together with your partner, instead of acting them out elsewhere. Real frames the end of fantasy as the beginning of real love: when you see your partner’s flaws clearly (“knowledge”) yet choose to love them (“love with knowledge”). This is the essence of repair – you come out of the disharmony phase with a deeper, mature connection. He explains that repairing deep injuries often requires “memory reconsolidation,” a therapeutic term for updating the emotional memory associated with triggers. In practice, that means the betrayed partner eventually forms a new narrative: “This relationship went through a crisis, but we worked through it, and now I actually trust you more, because you showed up and changed.” Real emphasizes safety as the bedrock of repair. After a breach, both partners need to feel emotionally safe to be honest. This safety comes when neither person feels judged or manipulated by the other – essentially, an agreement not to “wall off and abandon” (too distant) nor to “intrude and control” (too invasive). Partners in thriving relationships figure out a balance: if one starts to drift away, the other will pull them in; if one is too smothering, the other will ask for space. Such recalibration is actually the “gift of discord,” as Real calls it – conflict becomes an opportunity to renegotiate and improve the relationship’s terms. He reassures readers that they are not helpless in disharmony. Even if you come from a family where fights were destructive and never repaired, you can learn these skills. It starts with a decision: use the pain as a wake-up call rather than letting it drown you. Disharmony is like an alarm bell – it tells you something is wrong and needs addressing. The old “you and me” mindset, when that alarm goes off, wants to do all five losing strategies at once – blow up with righteousness, blame or control the other, unload all your grievances, seek revenge, or emotionally shut down. Real reminds us these reactions are basically our past trauma taking over the present. Instead, he implores couples to focus on what happens after the conflict. “What renders a relationship bad or good is not the depth of the disharmony but the presence or absence of repair,” he writes. So Chapter 7 teaches that every rupture is a chance to practice repair and create a stronger “us.” The first critical step of repair, according to Real, is “remembering love.” Before you attempt to talk it out, take a breath and reconnect with the part of you that actually cares about your partner and the relationship. That mindset – I love this person; we’re a team; I want us to be okay – will guide the repair in the right direction, as opposed to trying to fix things while still consumed by anger or fear.

8. Chapter 8: Fierce Intimacy, Soft Power
   In Chapter 8, Real dives into how couples can fight for their relationship instead of against each other. He introduces the term “fierce intimacy,” which means having the courage to confront issues head-on with honesty, while maintaining respect and love. He contrasts two unhealthy extremes: on one side, couples who avoid conflict entirely, and on the other, couples who fight explosively without resolution. The avoiders often appear “nice” on the surface but suffer from what Real calls pseudo-intimacy or smooth-functioning avoidance. He gives an example of a long-married pair who have poured all their energy into work and raising kids, and now find themselves politely distant – like “the silent good woman and the silent strong man” who “have it all except each other.” They’re so conflict-averse that neither will even say “Hey, I could use a hug”. Everything looks fine, but there’s a chilly void where deep connection should be. Real warns that this kind of bland, polite detente is ‘romantic death’. Partners may coexist peacefully, but nothing gets better or deeper because they never ruffle the surface. True intimacy, he argues, requires rocking the boat at times. Couples need to “rough it up now and then” – not in a hostile way, but by bringing up hard truths and real feelings. This is where fierce intimacy comes in: it’s the willingness to engage in uncomfortable conversations for the sake of greater closeness. Real assures us that “navigating the bumps is what makes for true intimacy”. Facing conflict can actually be fertile ground, because working through it yields understanding and trust. In fact, he notes, when a conflict is met and resolved with care, couples often feel a thrill of reconnection – that “kind attention and contact” after a quarrel can make you feel closer than you did before.

   On the flip side, Real also addresses couples who do nothing but fight – or those where one is always pursuing and one always withdrawing. He humorously says there are two types of couples, “those who fight and those who distance – and a third type, those who do both (one yells, the other shuts down).” He calls the volatile pursuer a “hailstorm” and the withdrawing partner a “tortoise,” a dynamic he mentioned earlier. In Chapter 8, he teaches each type how to move toward the middle. If you’re the “fighter” in the relationship (the one who raises your voice, critiques, demands), your growth edge is to practice restraint and vulnerability. Real’s advice: “If you’re used to big, angry reactions, try going small and soft. Lead not with indignation but with your honest hurt, fear, or longing.” In other words, drop the aggressive front and express the tender feelings underneath. Conversely, if you’re the distancer or pleaser (the one who goes silent or swallows feelings to avoid a scene), your challenge is to have courage. “If you’re avoidant, dare to rock the boat,” Real urges. Speak up about what you really feel or need, even if it’s hard. He even suggests that in therapy he sometimes figuratively hands the avoidant partner a “mallet” to smash through the wall of complacency they’ve built – meaning he empowers them to finally voice long-suppressed complaints. The goal is that both partners meet in the middle: one tempers their aggression into assertion (firm but respectful), and the other tempers their passivity into assertion as well (finding their voice). When an issue arises, Real emphasizes, it’s not the time for both to talk at once or counter-attack; repair is a one-way street, taken in turns. If your partner is upset, that is their turn – your job is to listen and respond with care, not immediately trot out your own grievances. Think of an upset partner like a customer at the service desk: you address their complaint first before you expect attention to your broken item. This “customer service” mindset is a game changer – it stops the common spiral of “Well I wouldn’t have done that if you hadn’t…” and so on. Real reminds us that if one person “wins” an argument by overpowering the other, both lose in the long run, because the hurt partner will withdraw or retaliate later. The only real win is when both people’s concerns are heard and addressed.

   To facilitate this, Real shares concrete communication tools. A standout technique is the Feedback Wheel – a structured approach to airing a complaint without blame. It has four steps: (1) Here’s what I saw or heard (the facts of what happened). (2) Here’s the story I’m telling myself about it (the interpretation or meaning I gave it, which might be wrong). (3) Here’s how I feel about it (my emotions). (4) Here’s what I need or request to help me feel better (a proposed solution or repair). For example, instead of saying “You’re so inconsiderate – you came home late!” you’d use the wheel: “When you came home an hour past our agreed time (fact), I told myself that work must be more important to you than our family dinner (story). I felt hurt and unimportant (feeling). I’d feel better if next time you could call to let me know, or if we reschedule dinner when you have a deadline (need).” This method forces you to take responsibility for the narrative in your head, rather than attacking your partner’s character. It also directly communicates what you want, giving your partner a clear way to remedy the situation. Real often stresses, “Help your partner come through for you.” Don’t make them guess why you’re upset – spell out what would make it better. Alongside skilled speaking, there must be skilled responding. He encourages the listening partner to resist the urge to fact-check or defend. Instead, respond with understanding and a genuine willingness to make things right, even if you see the situation differently. Two big mistakes to avoid are focusing on objective reality (“But that’s not what happened!”) and focusing on your own intent (“I didn’t mean it that way!”). Those responses just invalidate your partner’s experience. What matters in repair is that your partner feels heard and cared for.

   Another key concept here is “soft power.” Real observes that you cannot simultaneously maintain loving connection and wield dominating power over someone. If you try to force your way (yelling, insisting, shaming), you might win the immediate battle but at the cost of the relationship’s warmth. Traditionally, assertiveness has been coded as “masculine” and affiliation as “feminine,” leading some people (especially women trying to assert themselves) to adopt a hard, aggressive stance once they get fed up. But he cautions that simply flipping from compliant to harsh is still operating in “you vs. me” mode – it’s just switching who’s dominating. Soft powermeans asserting your needs while still honoring the relationship. It “gives voice to the ‘I’ and cherishes the ‘we’ at the same time”. In practice, this might look like saying hard things in a loving way. Real suggests starting tough conversations with an appreciation and an explicit statement of positive intent. For example: “I love how hard you work for our family. I want us to be close, so there’s something important we should talk about.” This signals that you value your partner and the outcome for both of you. Throughout the talk, keep checking that your goal is mutual benefit (if you catch yourself just trying to score points or punish, that’s the Adaptive Child creeping in). He also advises using a warm tone and body language, because “tone trumps content” – how you say something often matters more than the words. Real acknowledges that when we’re angry, this is hard. That’s why part of soft power is self-regulation: if you’re flooded with rage, it’s better to take a break than to launch into a tirade that will only invite defensiveness. Come back when you can speak from your more vulnerable feelings. Often, behind anger is hurt, fear, or sadness. Leading with those softer emotions (“I miss you, I’m feeling alone,” instead of “You never spend time with me!”) can melt your partner’s heart rather than hardening their defenses. And if you are the listener, Real reminds you to receive your partner’s soft disclosures as the gift they are – it takes bravery to share deeper feelings. In sum, Chapter 8 equips couples with the mindset and tools to fight productively. By combining fierce honesty with tenderness – soft power – partners can tackle issues without abandoning love. This is how conflict becomes a pathway to greater intimacy rather than a wedge of division.

9. Chapter 9: Leaving Our Kids a Better Future
   As the book nears its end, Real zooms out to the generational impact of how we love. He argues that the work we do on ourselves in our marriage isn’t just for us – it’s a legacy we leave to our children. “The personal work of your own relational recovery is not for you alone but for your children and the generations after you,” he writes. In Chapter 9, Real emphasizes breaking the cycles of dysfunction so that we don’t pass our emotional wounds down the line. He often works with clients to uncover how their behavior today is shaped by family history. A powerful exercise he uses is having someone imagine their parent in an empty chair and then express all the feelings they’ve been carrying. For example, he might guide a client to close their eyes and tell their father everything that hurt them, and even to “hand back” the emotional pain that doesn’t belong to the child. One woman might tell her imagined mother, “I needed you to protect me, and you didn’t. I’ve been holding this fear my whole life, but I’m giving it back to you now.” These cathartic dialogues help people release trauma and realize some burdens aren’t theirs to keep. Real also encourages recognizing patterns: if a client has a fierce temper, he asks, “Who was the angry one in your family?” Often the client will identify a parent and then see that they have “become that very person” with their own spouse and kids. Real bluntly states, “What stops offensive behavior is healthy guilt.”When people truly grasp that they’re repeating the hurtful behavior of their mother or father, a rightful sense of guilt can motivate change. (This is distinct from toxic shame – it’s not “I’m a monster,” but rather “Oh no, I’m doing something terribly wrong and I need to stop.”) He essentially “wakes up” clients by shining a light on these repetitions. Many of our worst relational habits – cheating, raging, stonewalling, clinging – are learned coping mechanisms, copied either directly or in reaction to what we grew up with. Some of us are loyal to our parents’ example even when it’s dysfunctional, because on a deep level remaining similar to them keeps us psychologically connected. Real calls this “keeping spiritual company” with a parent – for instance, a man who despised his father’s drinking rages might paradoxically repeat those rages in his own marriage as an unconscious way of staying close to Dad’s memory. However, breaking these patterns can stir grief, as it feels like “betraying” one’s family legacy. Real counsels that you may need to mourn the parent you didn’t have or the approval you’ll never get, in order to fully step out of their shadow. This process is essentially completing your development into an independent adult: “sorting through the legacy, keeping the positive traditions and laying to rest the negative ones lodged in your body as reactivity”. It’s a healthy separation or individuation, and it’s necessary for you to become whole and for your kids to have a healthier model to emulate.

   Real also addresses how these changes affect the current relationship. He warns against staying stuck in the role of the aggrieved victim who won’t acknowledge their partner’s growth. For instance, if your partner actually starts to change the very behavior you’ve complained about, notice it. “When you wrap yourself in a self-protective cloak of disbelief and stay in complaint mode, you won’t see how your partner is changing right before your eyes,” Real writes. Allow them to make repairs and meet you differently. If you hold onto “But you always…!” you trap both of you in the old pattern. Chapter 9 underlines that maturity means taking responsibility for your own healing. Real repeats that we must tend to our inner children ourselves, rather than foisting them on our partner. By now he has given the tool for this: when you feel triggered (your inner child is freaking out), practice self-empathy – “hold” that child, listen to its fears – but then gently “demote” it and let your adult self take the wheel. He might have the client visualize literally picking up their little self and saying, “I’ve got you, but I’m driving now.” This stops the cycle of expecting your spouse to be your parent or to heal your past wounds. Real illustrates how unhealed people relate from their child selves: the “love-dependent” type becomes easily hurt, needy, and hypersensitive, while the “rager” throws tantrums, shouts, or storms off like an angry child. As the saying goes, “hurt people hurt people” – those not dealing with their pain will inflict pain on others. Breaking that chain is an act of generosity to future generations. Real ties personal healing to broader cultural healing too. He observes that an overly individualistic society leads to fractured families and communities: “Individualism severs connection at multiple levels – psychological, familial, societal”. He also notes that patriarchal patterns (where one person must dominate) “eat away” at love, because they make vulnerability – which is crucial for intimacy – seem weak or contemptible. Thus, building an egalitarian, respectful us in our marriages is part of leaving our children a better societal inheritance as well. Toward the end of the chapter, Real poses a series of reflective questions – almost a final exam for the reader’s conscience: “In this moment, which will you choose: vulnerable closeness or protective distance? Your right to express your anger, or your responsibility to find a workable solution? Will you choose youor us?”. He urges us to slow down in those moments of choice (again: “urgency is our enemy, and breath is our friend”) and to actively put ourselves in our partner’s shoes before we react. By thinking beyond our own ego needs and considering the relationship’s needs, we can often defuse a fight before it starts. Finally, Real revisits his bedrock rules: no harshness, no disrespect, ever. He reminds us one last time that “there is no redeeming value in harshness – nothing that harshness does that loving firmness can’t do better”. Yelling and indignation will likely get you nowhere except back into disconnection. Instead, he encourages “soft power” skills as the reliable way to influence your partner and get your needs met in the long run. Be a good teammate: acknowledge improvements your partner makes, “reward their efforts,” and show appreciation. Also, stand up firmly against contempt – if you catch yourself or your partner sneering, call it out and stop it, as it has no place in a loving environment. Real then recaps the communication framework: lead with appreciation, clearly state your positive intentions, use the Feedback Wheel to structure your concerns, and give your partner a chance to repair things. After voicing your needs, let go of the outcome – don’t micromanage how your partner responds or hold onto bitterness if it’s not perfect. At some point, each of you must also “digest each other’s imperfections” – accept that no partner can meet every need – and grieve the things you wanted that you may never get. Only by mourning those unmet wants can you truly embrace what you do have and allow it to be enough. In essence, Chapter 9 is about making a conscious choice to end the legacy of disconnection. By healing ourselves and relating with compassion and respect, we create a healthier legacy for our children – one where us triumphs over you vs. me.

10. Chapter 10: Becoming Whole
    The final chapter synthesizes all the insights into a vision of mature, “whole” relational living. Real starts by asking the reader to examine how they show up not just as a partner, but as a person in their everyday environment. Are you, for instance, “acting like a disgruntled customer” in your relationship – always complaining, sulking, or passively punishing your loved ones when you don’t get what you want? He points out that many high-functioning adults regress with their spouses. A powerful CEO might turn into a pouting child at home if he feels slighted. Real identifies common childhood roles that carry into adulthood: the Hero (the good kid who had to be perfect), the Scapegoat (the “bad” kid who got blamed), and the Lost Child (the one who faded into the background). Each of these roles leaves a person with specific challenges. The hero might still fear failure or weakness, the scapegoat might still expect criticism and thus rebel or sabotage, and the lost child might struggle to voice needs or believe they matter. Real asks pointedly: Did you get to be a kid when you were a kid? Or were you forced into a little adult role? If you never got to be cared for, or to make mistakes without heavy consequences, those unmet needs will surface in how you treat your partner. Becoming whole means recognizing these unmet needs and immature behaviors and working through them now. One key lesson Real gives is startling in its simplicity: “Use your words and ask for what you need now. Don’t keep acting like that child.” In other words, if you’re craving affection, reassurance, freedom, whatever – ask. Don’t slam the door or sigh for hours expecting your partner to magically know. He gives an example: a man who never directly asks his wife for comfort when he’s down, yet he resents and “makes her pay” when she doesn’t provide it. This man behaves like a neglected boy, hoping mom (now wife) will notice his hurt without him saying a word. Real confronts this scenario bluntly: “You really can’t be mad about not getting what you never asked for.” The takeaway is that adult love requires directly communicating needs, not indirectly acting them out.

    Real also reiterates the importance of acknowledging the full range of one’s emotional needs. Many people, especially men socialized to be stoic, channel every vulnerable feeling into one outlet (often sex, as discussed in Chapter 5). In Chapter 10, Real reminds readers that “you have more emotional needs than just sex.” If a man is feeling insecure, lonely, or scared, and his only coping strategy is to initiate sex, he’s like a one-note instrument. This not only frustrates his partner but also leaves his deeper needs unmet. Real encourages people to do the work of identifying and verbalizing these other feelings – maybe you need encouragement, or a hug, or to just share your worries – instead of defaulting to a single demand (like sex) to soothe everything. He even humorously notes, “Grown, mature men are usually sexier than seven-year-olds,” meaning that a partner will respond far better to an adult who can calmly express vulnerability than to a sulking, implicit, childlike appeal. Another concept Real touches on is dissociation, which is when people cope with trauma by “splitting off” feelings or zoning out. He cautions that while we often suffer from what we can’t stop thinking about (rumination), we can be even more harmed by the things we refuse to think about. In relationships, this might mean ignoring serious issues or one’s own role in problems – a dangerous denial that can lead to betrayal or neglect. Real mentions moral injury as well: the internal damage that occurs when we act against our own values, such as hurting someone we love. People sometimes cope with this guilt by dehumanizing the person they hurt (telling themselves “Well, they didn’t really deserve respect”). Chapter 10 invites us to face these uncomfortable truths about ourselves rather than deflect them. Real calls for dismantling the harmful “superstructure” of rigid gender roles and dominance that keep partners alienated. Instead of “otherizing” (seeing each other as enemies or obstacles) – a mindset individualism fosters – we need to see our partners as fellow human beings and teammates. He repeats a line from earlier: “The cost of disconnection is disconnection,” meaning if you build walls or cling to superiority, the result is you end up lonely and estranged. Recovery, he says, begins with seeing these patterns in ourselves (“The first step in recovery is to see it”) and owning up to our part. The final pages are inspiring: Real assures readers that intimacy is a learnable skill, not a lucky trait. “Intimacy is not something you have, it’s something you do. You can learn to do it better,” he writes emphatically. All the techniques and mindset shifts he’s discussed are things anyone can practice and improve on. And there’s a self-interested reason to do so: “It is in your interest to behave skillfully, and to be a good steward of your own relational biosphere.” In other words, taking good care of your relationship (with respect, kindness, and skill) pays dividends in your own wellbeing. A loving partnership nurtures both people – research shows it even boosts immunity and longevity – whereas a toxic one harms you both. Real’s final takeaway is that moving from “you and me” to “us” thinking is not about losing oneself; it’s about expanding oneself to include another. By doing so, we don’t just build a more loving relationship, we actually become more whole as individuals. We heal old wounds, we grow into our best selves, and we create a legacy of love and resilience for those around us. The chapter (and book) ends on a note of personal choice and responsibility: nature won’t reward or punish us for how we handle our relationships, but we will live with the consequences. It’s up to each of us to decide, day by day, whether to choose connection over ego – to choose Us.