When couples come to us for therapy, they usually want the same thing: fewer fights, less hurt, more harmony. They imagine that the healthiest relationships are the ones with the least conflict.
But that’s not how love actually works. The goal isn’t the absence of conflict (rupture)—it’s how we use the conflict to repair—create and sustain meaningful connection.
In our book, Love. Crash. Rebuild, we teach every couple two unexpectedly simple rules. They sound almost too basic to matter, but if you really live by them, they can transform your relationship from the inside out:
Rule 1: Keep the focus on yourself.
Rule 2: Refer to Rule #1.
That’s it. Just two rules that, if practiced with intention, can change everything about how you love.
Rule 1: Keep the Focus on Yourself
When tension rises, most of us go straight into reflex mode:
“You’re making us late.”
“You’re not listening.”
“You always do this.”
It’s a natural human response. We feel uncomfortable, and we believe—wholeheartedly—that our partner is the source of our discomfort. But when we focus on our partner’s behavior, it blinds us from seeing our own contributions to the issue at hand.
Keeping the focus on yourself means pausing long enough to ask:
What’s happening in me right now?
How am I feeling right now? Is this feeling intolerable to me?
What am I afraid of, defending against, or needing?
It’s not self-blame—it’s self-awareness. And it’s the foundation for real accountability.
Example: The Time Cop
This one’s personal. I (Mark) have what Haruna affectionately calls my “time cop” mode. I get anxious about being late—whether it’s to a punk show, the opera, or a dinner reservation.
If I sense we’re running behind, something in me tightens. I start pacing, muttering about when we need to leave, convinced that every lost minute means disaster.
And then, predictably, I’ll say something critical—“Do you have to change your shoes again?”—which immediately changes the mood.
Now we’re not talking about time anymore. We’re in a power struggle about respect, control, and who’s right.
When I catch myself and come back to Rule 1, I start to notice what’s really happening:
I’m anxious. I feel out of control. I’m scared of missing something I’ve been looking forward to.
When I can own that instead of projecting it—“I’m feeling wound up about being late”—the energy between us shifts completely. Haruna can respond with empathy instead of defensiveness:
“I get it. You hate rushing. I’m almost ready.”
The moment I turn the focus inward, the rupture begins to transform—initiates the process of repair.
Rule 2: Refer to Rule 1
That’s the whole thing. There isn’t another rule.
Every time you forget Rule 1—and you will—come back to it.
It sounds almost silly, but it’s not. It’s a commitment to self-reflection even when you’re convinced your partner is wrong.
In our marriage, we still use this rule constantly. When one of us starts veering into “you” territory, the other might say, with some degree of humor, “Hey—Rule 2.”
It’s not a jab; it’s an invitation. It’s a reminder that the moment we start blaming each other, we’ve already left the road of repair. Not to mention, also giving up our power to contribute to the solution to whatever problem we are having.
Example: The Unanswered Text
Once, after a long day, Mark texted me (Haruna) asking what time I’d be home. I saw it, got distracted, and forgot to reply. By the time I walked in the door, he was irritated:
“You never answer when I text you!”
I immediately went defensive:
“I was busy! Why are you making such a big deal out of this?”
Classic rupture.
Later that night, after we both cooled off, I realized I’d missed my own cue to apply the rules. I had made it about his tone instead of my impact. When I went back to Rule 1, I saw what had happened: his message had triggered my guilt—I knew I’d dropped the ball.
The next morning, I said, “You were right. I ignored the text and didn’t own it. I think I felt ashamed.”
His shoulders relaxed instantly. He said, “I wasn’t angry about the text. I just felt ignored.”
That was repair. Not because we avoided conflict, but because we used it.
Why It Works
The two golden rules may sound overly simple, but they go to the core of what makes relationships thrive: personal responsibility and emotional awareness.
When both partners stay focused on themselves, neither has to be the villain. Each person stays accountable for their own feelings and actions. The argument stops being a tug-of-war and becomes a shared inquiry: What’s really happening here?
These rules turn conflict into a classroom. Every rupture becomes a chance to learn—not just about your partner, but about yourself.
