Relational Hygiene

She had been gone most of the day. When she walked in that evening, the first thing she noticed was the counter: littered with soft-edged remnants of something avocado-based and everything bagel seeds. A bowl and utensils in the sink again. Different from the ones she’d cleaned that morning. The specifics didn’t matter. It was the repetition. The silence of it. The sense that no one had paused to think: Who will clean this up?

She didn’t say anything right away. That pause between noticing and speaking had grown longer over the years. Not out of fear, but discernment. She calculated timing, tone, and context: to be just right for it to land and not ricochet.

Later that night, he came to bed after his movie. She was already under the covers, not asleep. Still debating whether to bring it up. She didn’t feel angry. Just quietly saturated. So she tried the route she always tries when she wants to stay connected. She said, Can I tell you something without you getting mad?

He tensed (she felt it before she saw it) and reached for his phone. The light cast that familiar blue on his face. A shield. A stall.

She said it anyway. The bowl. The counter. The small disrespect that didn’t feel small when layered on top of the rest. And the groceries too. Nothing she had asked for. Just apples, and snacks he liked.

He kept scrolling. He said, That wasn’t me. Probably one of the kids.

She turned away.

He didn’t notice right away that she was gone, not until the morning. She’d taken her pillow and moved to the guest room because she knew what was coming. The spiral of being the one who brings it up, the one who stays awake, the one who tries to fix it. She couldn’t do that again. Not that night.

In the morning, he said, What are you doing?

She said, You didn’t hear me last night. You didn’t even look at me. You pushed it away. You put it on the kids.

He said, You brought it up the wrong way. Late at night. What did you expect?

She said, I expected you to own it.

And that was the real breach: not the avocado or the apples. The fact that it was easier for him to say you approached me wrong than I didn’t handle that well. The fact that her truth, (even when small and softly spoken) still had to fight its way into the room. And by the time it arrived, it was already too late. She was already carrying the weight of having been the one to rupture something that didn’t need to be ruptured at all.

He softened eventually. He said, Okay, I see that. I’ll work on it.

But the residue was still there. Because the real question wasn’t whether he would apologize. It was whether she could trust that next time, she wouldn’t need to calibrate and cushion the truth. Whether their system could hold discomfort without disconnection.

She told him, quietly, This isn’t just about us. It’s about what the kids see. When I bring up something real, and you scroll, deflect, or redirect blame: it teaches them something. I want us to model something else. I want us to show them that being wrong doesn’t mean being unworthy. That accountability is part of love. That we can live in reality together, even when it’s uncomfortable.

She didn’t know if it landed. But she said it.

And in that moment, that was her part of the relational hygiene: rinsing the residue before it hardened into resentment. Not because it was her job. But because she wasn’t willing to live in a house where silence did the cleaning.

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This is relational hygiene. It’s not just about cleanliness. The daily maintenance of connection. Noticing small issues before they fester. Clearing emotional debris before it becomes resentment. Doing the basic care and cleaning of your relational space. The courage to disrupt for clarity. And the willingness (on both sides) to stay close when discomfort surfaces.

But hygiene requires awareness. And awareness requires access. If a partner cannot name what they feel or track what’s happening internally, they cannot participate in that maintenance. 

Hygiene is rarely dramatic. It’s repetitive, ordinary, hardly seen. But neglect it long enough, and the consequences are loud and obnoxious. The same is true in love.

Are you looking for help with your relationship? Do you feel that a relationship coach could help you working on your couples skills? Is communication an issue? Have you ever considered couples therapy or counseling? As a psychotherapist and relationship coach, I am uniquely positioned to help you through these moments of disconnect and conflict.

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Learn more about my approach to life consulting and relationship coaching here or get in touch for your free 30-minute consultation here! Don’t forget to follow along @LilyManne on social for more regular updates!