“That’s Not What I Meant” — Why This Fight Feels Impossible

Moving through relationship disagreements without getting trapped in who’s “right”

You're sitting at the kitchen table. One of you says, “When you said [X] earlier, it really hurt my feelings.” The other responds, “That’s not what I said.”

Or maybe it goes like this: one of you shares your thoughts on something — how to handle the holidays, what to do about the kids' school situation — and the other hears it as being steamrolled. 

“You’re not even listening to my opinion.” 

“What? I’m just sharing an idea.”

The room temperature drops. Connection hits a wall.

At that moment, both people are convinced they’re right. And both people feel threatened. These are the stuck places we all experience— the ones that feel impossible to navigate. So what do we do when our experiences don’t match — and we have a sense that healthy communication in our relationship is simply out of reach? I'd ask you to remember: When relationship disagreements start to feel impossible, there’s often something deeper happening beneath the surface.

Where We’ve Been

In September, we talked about validation — learning to see your partner’s inner world and communicate that it makes sense. In October, we explored crossing the bridge into that world, even when it feels uncomfortable or you’re experiencing something differently.

But what happens when you’re teetering on the edge of getting stuck in the “disagreement” — whether it’s about the meaning of something or whether the conversation you just had even happened the same way?

It’s easy to get caught there, and when we do, familiar and unhelpful habits take over. That’s what we’re unpacking today.

Why Mismatch Feels Like Threat

Here’s what’s happening in your body when your partner says, “That’s not what happened,” or “You’re overreacting,” or “You’re controlling me”:

Your nervous system treats mismatch like danger. Not because you’re fragile, overreacting, too defensive, or mean — but because for most of human history, being on a different page than your tribe could have had very bad consequences.

When someone’s perspective clashes with ours, the brain interprets it as a threat — usually to belonging or safety. The amygdala lights up: “Uh-oh, disagreement = danger.”

Instead of curiosity, we go into protection mode: defending, justifying, withdrawing.

This isn’t a character flaw. It’s biology.

The good news? Once we understand what’s happening, we can pause, breathe, and signal to the body that difference doesn’t equal danger.

So it makes sense that when your partner says, “That’s not what happened,” your body tightens. You’re not just defending your perspective — you’re defending your sense of reality.

When our realities don't match, our nervous systems can mistake difference for danger — even when we both want to understand.

Two Scenarios, Same Activation

Let's go a bit deeper into the examples we opened with, because I see these playing out in two common ways — and while they look different on the surface, they create remarkably similar reactions.

Scenario A: Memory Mismatch 

“When you said [X], it hurt my feelings.” “I didn’t say that.”

Suddenly, you’re not even arguing about meaning anymore — you’re arguing about what words actually came out of someone’s mouth. One person is certain those words were said. The other is equally certain they weren’t. Both people feel dismissed and bewildered.

Scenario B: Meaning / Perception Mismatch 

One person shares their thoughts on something — a parenting decision, a plan for the weekend, how to handle a tricky family dynamic. The other person experiences: “You’re steamrolling me with your opinion.” The first person thinks: “No, I’m just sharing a thought.”

Here, the words aren’t in dispute — but what they mean is. One person experiences being talked over; the other experiences trying to contribute. Both people end up feeling confused and defensive.

The Common Thread 

Again, while these look different on the surface, they tend to activate us in the same way: My reality is being challenged, and now I don’t feel safe (which usually translates into: “And now I am angry.”).

No wonder this fight feels impossible to resolve — staying connected during conflict requires learning to recognize when your body thinks it’s in danger (even when it’s not)—and doing something different from what feels automatic.

A Personal Example: When Core Sensitivities Collide

I’ve been experimenting with the idea that most of us have a handful of core sensitivities — not in the “you’re too sensitive” kind of way, but more like: these are the things that, almost without fail, activate a defensive or protective response in our nervous systems. The places where we’re most tender, most reactive.

For me, one of the big ones is invalidation. For my partner, Scott, it’s generally around a sense of inadequacy.

When Scott says something like, “That’s not what I meant,” my brain immediately goes to “He’s questioning my reality” — a meaning I learned growing up, not something Scott actually does as a pattern. When I say something to Scott like, “Your tone is coming across as harsh,” his brain goes to “She’s criticizing me. I’m not measuring up” — based on his early experiences, not on me criticizing him all the time.

We’re both reacting not just to the present moment, but to the meaning we’ve learned to make of moments like this.

Here’s the irony: in a “you said X / no I didn’t” moment, we’re both questioning each other’s reality. We’re both feeling “gaslit,” to use the word that’s making the rounds these days. We’re also both decent people who love each other.

Sidebar on Gaslighting

When actual gaslighting happens — when someone deliberately, repeatedly, and with malicious intent manipulates you, with the sole purpose of intending for you to doubt your own perception or experience — it’s very harmful. If you’re experiencing that, please seek support.

What I want to clarify here is something more common — what happens in long-term relationships when we inevitably see or experience something differently.

I know Scott isn’t a malicious person. He’s thoughtful, curious, and kind. But in that moment when he says a version of, “I didn’t say that,” my nervous system doesn’t care about his general character. It just thinks: “He’s questioning my reality, and that feels dangerous.”

He feels the same when I tell him what “did happen” or “what it means.”

So who’s gaslighting whom? Neither of us. We’re just two people whose sensitivities or core issues showed up to the same disagreement. (This happens a lot, by the way.)

This is where we have a choice: We can keep trying to prove who’s right. Or we can get curious about why we’re both so activated.

The shift from proving to understanding creates space for real connection — even when our stories don't match.

Moving Through Relationship Disagreements: Shifting from Proving to Understanding

Our brains are wired to defend our version of events. Confirmation bias, memory as interpretation, the need to protect our sense of reality — it’s all working overtime when we feel misunderstood.

But here’s the thing: defending results in disconnection. Even if one of us “gives in” and the conflict cools, something still goes unresolved — and a little seed of insecurity gets planted. Our nervous systems will remember this.

The shift we’re after instead is this: moving from “I need you to see it my way” to “I want to understand how you experienced this.”

This is where the Imago Dialogue tools — especially mirroring and validation — become essential in resolving (rather than burying) misunderstandings in our marriage or partnership.

Mirroring sounds like:

“What I hear you saying is...” 

“Am I getting you?” 

“Is there more?”

It’s not about agreeing. It’s simply reflecting back what you heard, so your partner knows you’re listening.

Validation sounds like:

“That makes sense because...”

It’s recognizing that your partner’s experience is real for them, even if, and especially when, it’s not your experience.

Mirroring and validation aren’t just communication skills — they’re nervous system regulators. They remind the body it’s safe to stay curious.

Here’s the reframe that changes everything: you don’t have to agree on what happened to believe each other. You just have to hold two truths at once.

“We experienced the same moment differently — and that really is okay.” 

It’s when we get into trying to prove who’s right that it becomes not okay.

For example: one person remembers feeling dismissed in a conversation. The other remembers staying calm and trying to be helpful. Both are right from inside their nervous systems.

The question isn’t who’s right. The question is: can we both make room for how this landed differently for each of us?

The Takeaway

You don’t have to agree to stay connected. You do have to choose curiosity over proving a point.

It’s less about getting your partner to see things your way, and more about staying in the room when your realities don’t match.

It’s about learning to tolerate mismatch without collapsing into “who’s right.”

Because when we stop defending our stories and start listening to each other’s, we don’t lose our truth — we are literally teaching our nervous system something new about disagreement: that it can happen and we can still be connected.

Practice This Month

Part 1: Reflect on your own 

Think back to your family growing up. What happened around disagreements? How were they handled? Did people stay connected? Get mad? Shut down? Avoid conflict altogether?

When there were disagreements, did repairs happen in any kind of reliable way?

Just notice what you remember. No judgment — just curiosity about what you learned.

You might think: If I were a sponge soaking up meaning around what disagreements represent, what did I soak up?

We don’t learn this consciously. It really is a “soaking up” kind of experience.

Part 2: Share with your partner 

Have a conversation with your partner about what each of you experienced growing up.

Take turns: one person shares in short chunks (a few sentences at a time), and the other mirrors back what they heard.

This isn’t about fixing or solving anything. It’s about understanding each other’s history a little better — and recognizing that the way you each respond to mismatch didn’t come out of nowhere.

You’re both making sense. You’re just making sense from different experiences.

"We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are."— Anaïs Nin