The moment I knew that my marriage was over was just weeks after the birth of our first child. I’d had a harrowing labour and I needed some emotional support.
Looking back, I probably had a form of postpartum depression – I was constantly crying, worrying about my baby, Charlotte, afraid that she would suffocate – while my husband didn’t seem to get it at all. As he sat on the sofa, chuckling at an ad on the Golf Channel, I blocked his view and pleaded with him: ‘I’m drowning here.’
‘What?’ he replied. ‘You’re not working, you can sleep when the baby sleeps. You have every resource you need and I’ve hired you a night nanny.’
He felt he was being there for me, and in a practical sense he was right.
But I didn’t just want practical support, I needed emotional connection. We were a couple of feet apart, but it was then I felt the distance between us psychologically starting to widen. We went on to have another daughter, Curran, but for me the marriage had basically ended in that moment when he barely looked up from the golf.
I didn’t know it at the time, but we were heading for a ‘quiet divorce’ – where couples avoid conflict for so long they end up feeling extremely disconnected before eventually splitting.
If a couple are angry with each other, there’s at least some engagement. Disconnection and indifference are much harder to come back from.
To the outside world our marriage looked idyllic and, at times, I had felt it was too.
I met my husband at college when I was 18, and we married six years later. He was handsome and confident. Most importantly, or so I thought then, we never argued. However, looking back, I realise we never argued because I simply suppressed my needs.
My parents divorced when I was in college. But in the years leading up to it the house was filled with arguments, which was very unsettling. I vowed I would have a perfect marriage and never argue with my partner.
I thought I’d figured out the key to a successful marriage, but when our children came, problems arose, as they always do, yet we didn’t know how to deal with them. We went for counselling in 2004, knowing our marriage was on life support. I had reached the stage where I wasn’t communicating about anything. Instead, I was constantly nursing a grudge and building up resentment.
In May 2005, after seven years of marriage, we split. The pain of the divorce inspired me to become a couples’ therapist, and after 13 years I’ve seen the same pattern over and over again.
Most couples don’t come to therapy hissing at each other like feral cats. Instead, they’ve told themselves that having tricky conversations won’t go well, so they avoid them altogether. The truth is, it isn’t conflict that causes a split – it’s conflict avoidance.
By the time I met my second husband, Steve, I was committed to doing things differently. While dating, he once didn’t call me back when I expected him to. It stirred up old fears over being ghosted. I told him how upset I felt, and he really listened, rather than getting defensive or dismissing my feelings. I took that as a sign that he was capable of working through things with me.
One thing I love about him is that, while he may not always understand what I’m feeling, he’s always willing to try. This year we’ll celebrate our tenth anniversary.
Dr John Gottman, the pre-eminent relationship researcher, found 69 per cent of a couple’s problems are unsolvable. Most will continue to argue about the same things, be it differences in parenting or spending habits.
Most people’s eyes bulge when I tell them this statistic, but it’s not a cause for concern. If you can have arguments and work through them as a team, you strengthen your connection. It’s when you stay silent in the face of conflict – when you ‘quiet quit’ – that a relationship is destroyed.
It’s more common for women to quiet quit than men – 70 per cent of divorces are sought by women and 25 per cent of men are blindsided by their wife wanting a divorce.
But there are subtle ways a husband might emotionally quiet quit too. In my first marriage, my husband and I were both quiet quitting. What I see clinically is women often disengage through silence or over-accommodation, while many men disengage through distancing strategies, such as shutting down or being dismissive. While these reactions might look different on the surface, they come from the same place: feeling overwhelmed, ashamed or like we’re failing our partner.
One of the reasons I wrote my book, The Cost Of Quiet, is to warn people about the things they’re doing which are sabotaging their relationship without them even realising.
So here are the seven subtle signs your husband could be quiet quitting – and what you can do to stop it.
Being defensive
Defensiveness makes it impossible to connect. It’s when you say something like, ‘Hey, I asked you to do the dishes but you didn’t do them’ and your partner replies, ‘But I was busy at work…’ and rattles off a list of excuses instead of listening.
If you say how you’re feeling instead of criticising them, there’s a better chance they’ll hear you. Explain to him, ‘I’m really sharing something with you and it seems like you’re getting defensive. This makes me feel hurt. I’m bringing this up because I want us to be connected.’
I realise it might feel weird expressing feelings so baldly. Exercising these emotional muscles might feel uncomfortable at first but when you express yourself clearly you’ll notice a different reaction as your vulnerability will invite vulnerability from your partner in return.
Dismissiveness
This is when he acts like something you’re upset about isn’t a big deal.
If that happens, say to them, ‘I’ve noticed that when I share emotions with you, you tend to say “It’s not that bad”, and that feels hurtful to me because the message you’re sending me is that I’m wrong to feel the way I feel. It’s important to me to be able to come to you and share my feelings – can we talk about this?’ Invite him into a conversation.
Maybe he doesn’t understand how upset you are. Often when someone is dismissive, it’s not a sign they don’t care about you, but they don’t know how to deal with emotions. Often they’ll say, ‘I had no idea my reaction felt that way to you – I’m sorry.’
Fixing instead of feeling
Jumping straight into fixing mode can be framed as trying to be helpful, but it often signals discomfort with emotional vulnerability.
Many husbands have been taught that love equals problem-solving, so when their wife is upset, they move toward solutions as a way to reduce tension and restore their own sense of competence. But when someone feels rushed toward solutions, they can feel frustrated, unheard and alone.
What helps is slowing the interaction down and clearly saying what you mean. Try saying to him, ‘I know you want to make this better, and I appreciate that. Right now, I don’t need you to fix it. I need you to sit with me and understand how this feels.’
A client put it beautifully when she explained to her husband: ‘When I’m down in a tunnel with my feelings, I don’t want you to dig me out. I want you to crawl in there with me, put up a tent and camp out beside me.’
Numbing or distracting
Numbing behaviours can be anything from overworking, constant scrolling or using humour to deflect. From the outside it might seem like indifference, but more often it reflects a nervous system that feels overwhelmed or unsure how to respond.
Many men weren’t raised to process emotion, so they regulate it by shifting attention away from it. Over time, this creates emotional distance because you never get into meaningful conversations. Addressing this requires reducing shame rather than escalating the pressure.
You can broach this by saying, ‘I see how hard you work to unwind and I respect that, but even a few minutes of real connection helps me feel closer to you.’
Compartmentalising or shutting down
Being able to compartmentalise is a strength because it allows us to function under stress, but in relationships it can look like emotional unavailability. A man who shuts down during conflict may believe he is preventing escalation or protecting the relationship because he doesn’t want to say something he regrets. But this often creates an emotional divide because important experiences are never shared.
The goal is not to force immediate emotional expression, but to create an environment where vulnerability feels possible. A helpful approach might be to say, ‘I know you tend to go quiet when things feel intense and I don’t want to overwhelm you. Staying connected matters more to me than getting through the conversation fast. We can take this one step at a time.’
Outsourcing a need for connection
It’s normal to crave emotional intimacy – in fact it’s a fundamental relationship need.
If that intimacy is missing, you might transfer it to others to fill the void, by using your children as the primary source of connection, throwing yourself into your work or having an affair.
Have the courage to turn to your partner and say, ‘I feel like we’ve become really disconnected. I’m not blaming you. Let’s talk about it. What are you feeling? How am I not meeting your needs?’
Remember, if you want him to listen, you have to be willing to listen too and take feedback, which may not be easy to hear.
Distancing
Say you broach an issue and he won’t even discuss it, or maybe he leaves the room if you start to cry – that can feel incredibly hurtful.
The only thing you can do is have an honest conversation about the impact this has and why this happens. You have to vocalise how you’re feeling, saying, ‘I can’t feel close to you if, any time I’m vulnerable, you pull away.’
Tone is such an important part of any conversation. Often we think we’re saying things calmly, but he is hearing real danger signals instead.
You can’t control someone else’s reaction but you can stay as clear, calm and regulated as possible, so he is more likely to feel that it’s ‘safe’ to engage. That doesn’t mean you can’t be angry but, instead of letting your anger take over the conversation, just tell him, ‘I’m really angry.’ It makes a huge difference. And when he listens, be sure to praise his efforts.
A lot of these responses stem from their fear of disappointing their partner. I’m not saying it’s always your responsibility to manage that, but showing a little understanding and telling them ‘thank you – this means a lot to me’, goes a long way.
FOUR WAYS YOU MIGHT BE QUIET QUITTING
Saying ‘I’m fine’ when you’re not
Repeatedly saying this is something we do a lot. I often hear women in my sessions say ‘I don’t want to have to say I need more affection – I just want him to know I need it.’
But it’s hard enough to figure out what you yourself are feeling and needing without expecting him to know instantly. If you’re not fine, say why you aren’t in a clear, calm manner.
Becoming hyper-independent
I’m 52, and women of my generation were brought up to believe it’s noble to be independent. But, while it’s great to be strong, we all need help. Instead, recognise you have emotional needs and ask for them to be met.
Bickering
To some degree, this is normal. But if you’re constantly bickering about petty frustrations while never having the hard conversations – such as talking about money or sex – you’ll never get beyond the surface level. I call incessant bickering ‘toxic emotional ping-pong’. If you’re hit by a ping-pong ball once, you won’t get that hurt, but if you’re being hammered over and over again, it’ll definitely cause damage.
Sweeping things under the rug
This is the most common type of avoidance – the problem is, you both end up tripping over the mound in the middle of the room.
If we address issues without blame, we usually get the reassurance we need and clear up any misunderstandings. In that way, problems don’t build up into relationship-ending resentment.
The Cost Of Quiet by Colette Jane Fehr is out now (Headline Home, £16.99).
As told to Lina Das
