http://www.garymalonecounseling.com/

Gary Malone Counseling, PLLC, Paris, TX (2026)

02/19/2026

“Are you ever going to get over this?”

That question shows up in a lot of relationships after betrayal.

One partner is trying to name the hurt that still lives in their body.
Not to punish.
Not to keep score.
But to feel understood.

The other partner starts to deflect.
Redirect and ask when this will finally be done.

Here’s the hard truth:
That question is rarely about healing.

It’s about shame.

When someone has a fragile sense of self, their partner’s pain doesn’t land as “I’m hurting.” It lands as “You’re a bad person.”

So instead of responding with tenderness, the nervous system shifts into self-protection.

That’s when we hear:
“I’ve already apologized.”
“How long are we going to talk about this?”
“Why can’t you move on?”

Those aren’t heartless statements.
They’re defensive exits.

But betrayal doesn’t heal through explanations, timelines, or pressure to be done.

What heals is a safe, steady response...especially when the pain shows up again.

Here’s what that actually sounds like:

“I can hear how much this still hurts.”
“It makes sense that this comes back up.”
“I know this pain exists because of what I did.”
“I’m here. You don’t have to carry it alone right now.”

No arguing.
No correcting.
No asking when it will end.

When shame is running the show, empathy disappears.
And when empathy disappears, repair can’t happen.

A relationship cannot heal when one partner needs the other to stop hurting in order to feel okay about themselves.

Low self-esteem doesn’t always look insecure.
Sometimes it looks like impatience, shutdown, or demanding closure.

Healing doesn’t come from moving on.
It comes from staying present, again and again, until the nervous system learns it’s safe.

And that requires more than remorse.

It requires inner security:
The ability to face what you did and remain emotionally available.

If the pain keeps coming up, it isn’t failure.

It’s the moment trust is still asking for your warm, tender presence.

02/18/2026

A letter to the spouse who's finally changing...

If you’re reading this, you’ve likely reached a difficult awareness:

Your temperament - your anger, reactivity, intensity, or unpredictability - didn’t just create conflict. It shaped whether your partner felt emotionally safe and close to you.

You’re not a bad person. You reading this would convey quite the opposite.
You’re here because something in you learned to meet stress with control, sharpness, withdrawal, or force and the person you love learned how to protect themselves around it.

Now you’re changing.

You’re more regulated.
More intentional.
More consistent.

And still… your partner seems guarded. Distant. Careful.

You may find yourself thinking, “Do they even see the change?”
Or quietly wondering, “What if it’s too late?”

This is where many people give up.

Here’s what matters: Your partner’s nervous system does not run on your timeline.

For a long time, their body learned that closeness could turn unsafe.
That calm might not last.
That connection required vigilance.

So when you change, their system doesn’t immediately relax...it observes.

It might even doubt the authenticity of it.

Not out of punishment.
Not out of ingratitude.
But because safety is experienced, not promised.

A few months of consistency is meaningful. It’s also early.

Trust rebuilds the same way it was eroded...through repetition.

Not speeches.
Not pressure for reassurance.
Not demands for acknowledgment.

But steady presence.
Predictable responses.
Repair without defensiveness.
Ownership without collapse or self-shame.

When you stay regulated without needing your partner to reward you for it, something shifts.

Their guard lowers quietly.
Their body softens before their words do.
And one day, closeness returns, not because you pushed for it, but because their system finally believes it’s safe.

That’s not weakness.
That’s emotional leadership.

And it’s how real repair happens.

02/16/2026

There’s an entire book of the Bible that feels awkward for a lot of people to read out loud.

Not because it’s confusing.
But because it’s honest.

The 'Song of Songs' in the old testament isn’t a rulebook.
It’s not a warning label.
It’s a love song filled with desire, attraction, bodies, longing, and delight.

“Let him kiss me.”
“You have stolen my heart.”
“Drink your fill of love.”

Those aren't even the best ones and it doesn’t apologize for any of it.

That matters, because I sat with a few couples last week who learned early (via Church) that s*x was dangerous, distracting, or something to keep tightly controlled. Even if it was “allowed” in marriage, it still came wrapped in fear.

So now they’re married and s*x feels tense, heavy, or disconnected. Not because they don’t love their spouse, but because shame followed them into the bedroom.

What’s striking about Song of Songs is that desire isn’t treated as a problem to manage. It’s treated as something mutual and good.

Both voices speak.
Both pursue.
Both want.

No one is scolded for wanting too much.
No one is told to tone it down.
Desire isn’t suspicious, it’s celebrated.

For many couples, s*x quietly became about performance instead of connection.

Do it right.
Do it often enough.
Don’t disappoint God.
Don’t disappoint your spouse.

That pressure drains intimacy.

Song of Songs offers a different picture: s*x as expression, not evaluation.
Not something you earn. Something you share.

If s*x feels difficult now, the question usually isn’t “What’s wrong with us?”
It’s often, “What did we learn to be afraid of?”

Healing s*xual shame takes time. Your body learned fear long before your beliefs changed. Gentleness matters more than effort.

The Bible doesn’t ask couples to tolerate s*x.
It invites them into it...without apology.

02/13/2026

Some people don’t hate Valentine’s Day.
They hate what it reminds them they’re missing.

Maybe it’s connection.
Maybe it’s being chosen.
Maybe it’s feeling emotionally safe with someone instead of constantly wondering where you stand.

Valentine’s Day has a way of shining a light on the gaps we work hard to ignore the rest of the year. The unspoken needs. The conversations that never quite happen. The loneliness that can exist even when you’re not alone.

And here’s the important part:
Feeling this way doesn’t mean you’re ungrateful.
It doesn’t mean you’re broken.
It doesn’t mean your relationship, or you, are failing.

It means you’re paying attention.

Holidays don’t create problems. They reveal the emotional climate that’s already there. Secure relationships tend to feel calm on days like tomorrow. Strained ones often feel heavy, pressured, or performative. Not because anyone is doing something wrong, but because unmet needs don’t disappear just because there’s chocolate and flowers.

If tomorrow feels hard, try this instead of pushing it away:
Name what you’re actually longing for.
Connection. Consistency. Safety. Being seen.

Those longings aren’t unreasonable. They’re information.

And whether you’re partnered or single, the work isn’t to silence that ache, it’s to listen to it with honesty and kindness.

You don’t need to force gratitude today.
You don’t need to pretend this day feels good.

You just need to be gentle with yourself and let this day inform you, not define you.

02/11/2026

“All my husband wants is s*x.”

I hear this often.

And sometimes… it’s true.

There are men who treat intimacy like a transaction. Men who want what they want, when they want it, without much concern for their partner’s heart. That’s not strength. That’s adolescence with a beard.

But that’s not most of the husbands I sit across from.

Most of the men I work with are trying. They work hard. They carry pressure quietly. They care about their wives. They may not always communicate it well, but they care deeply about their marriage.

So if it’s not just s*x… what is it?

Many wives know they need to feel connected in order to desire s*x.

Many husbands experience the reverse...they often feel deeply connected through s*x.

Yes, there’s physical pleasure. But underneath that is something more vulnerable:

The desire to feel wanted.
To be chosen.
To be desired by the one person who knows him fully.

By the time a man is married, he has usually endured years of comparison, competition, performance, and rejection. He’s been measured by income, achievement, stability. He’s learned, often quietly, that love must be earned.

S*x, in a healthy marriage, can become one of the few places he doesn’t have to perform to be accepted.

When a husband initiates intimacy, sometimes what he’s really asking is:

“Do you still choose me?”
“Do you still want me?”
“Am I safe with you?”

That’s not adolescent.

That’s vulnerable.

This doesn’t mean a wife owes s*x. It doesn’t excuse pressure or emotional neglect. It simply means that often both spouses want the same thing...closeness, but often approach it from different doors.

When couples learn to see the vulnerability underneath the request, s*x stops being a battleground and starts becoming a bridge.

And when a man can say, “I don’t just want s*x, I want to feel close to you,”

That’s strength.

02/09/2026

The goal of a relationship isn’t to think alike. It’s to think together.

A lot of couples get stuck believing that if they could just agree more, things would feel easier. If you saw it my way. If you felt it the way I do. If we could just land on the same conclusion.

But agreement isn’t what creates closeness. Connection is.

Thinking alike is about sameness. Thinking together is about partnership. One asks, “How do I get you to see this my way?” The other asks, “How do we stay connected while we sort this out?”

Most conflict isn’t really about the issue. It’s about what happens when difference turns into distance. When one person feels unheard and the other feels criticized. When the conversation quietly shifts from curiosity to defense. In those moments, the fear underneath isn’t disagreement...it’s isolation.

Thinking together doesn’t mean giving up your perspective. It means staying emotionally present while holding it. It sounds like, “Help me understand how you got there,” or “I don’t see it the same way, but I want to figure this out with you.”

It means slowing the conversation down enough to remember you’re not opponents, you’re partners.

Healthy relationships aren’t built on constant agreement. They’re built on the ability to stay connected when agreement isn’t available. To choose collaboration over control. Curiosity over certainty. Together over winning.

Practically, this means a few simple shifts:
- When you feel yourself trying to convince, pause and ask a question instead.
- When emotions rise, slow the pace before you raise the volume.
- When you disagree, name the difference without attaching blame.
- When you need space, say when you’ll come back to the conversation.

And when things feel tense, remind yourselves out loud: we’re on the same side.

So maybe the question isn’t, “Why don’t we think the same?”
Maybe it’s, “Are we still thinking together?”

Because that’s where real connection begins.

02/06/2026

I sat with a couple recently where the wife shared her frustration about how her husband forgets things. Details. Follow-through. The stuff that makes daily life smoother.

You could feel the weariness behind it.

Then she paused… softened… and said something that changed the room:

“I realize this is something he’s learning and growing into.
And I’m the one fortunate enough to be next to him while he does.”

That’s not resignation.
That’s not lowering the bar.
That’s love with eyes open.

Real partnership isn’t about marrying a finished product.
It’s about choosing someone human and deciding how you’ll walk beside them while they grow.

So what does that actually look like in real life?

1. Separate character from skill
Forgetting doesn’t automatically mean careless.
Struggling doesn’t mean unwilling.
When you stop turning a weakness into a moral failure, the conversation changes.

2. Stay curious instead of keeping score
Instead of, “Why can’t you ever remember?”
Try, “What helps this stick for you?”
Curiosity invites growth. Scorekeeping shuts it down.

3. Ask for change without shaming
You can say, “This matters to me,”
without saying, “You always disappoint me.”
Tone teaches more than words ever will.

4. Encourage progress, not perfection
Growth is usually clumsy and inconsistent.
Point out what’s improving, not just what’s missing.
People tend to grow toward where they feel seen.

5. Remember: safety fuels change
Most people don’t change because they’re pressured.
They change because they feel secure enough to try, fail, and try again.

The healthiest couples I see don’t deny frustration.
They just don’t weaponize it.

They hold each other accountable without stripping dignity.
They expect growth without contempt.
They remember the person across from them is still becoming.

That mindset doesn’t fix everything overnight.

But it creates safety.
And safety is where real growth actually happens.

02/04/2026

When trust is broken in a relationship, one of the hardest parts isn’t the argument or the apology. It’s realizing that life can’t go back to normal right away.

At some point, someone usually thinks:
“Am I supposed to not do anything forever?”

It’s an honest question.
But it usually shows up when healing is still unfinished.

Before trust was damaged, normal might have meant:
- Work trips without much discussion
- Nights out that didn’t require explaining
- Texting or messaging people without thinking twice
- Certain places, habits, or routines that felt harmless

No one was keeping score.
No one was bracing.
No one was wondering what was really happening.

After trust is broken, those same things can feel heavy.

A work trip might bring anxiety instead of excitement.
A night out might create tension instead of ease.
A casual text might raise questions instead of trust.

That doesn’t mean someone is trying to control you.
It means the relationship is still healing.

Just like you wouldn’t run on a sprained ankle,
you can’t move at the same speed in a wounded relationship.

Repair isn’t about being grounded forever.
It’s about being thoughtful for now.

It can look like:
- Passing on a trip that would make your partner anxious
- Avoiding certain places until trust feels steadier
- Being more transparent than feels necessary
- Choosing reassurance over defensiveness

Not because you have to.
Because you want the relationship to feel safe again.

The question that actually matters isn’t:
“Why can’t I live my life?”
It’s:
“What helps this relationship heal?”

Sometimes that means saying no to things you’d normally say yes to.
Sometimes it means slowing down even when you don’t feel like slowing down.

That’s not weakness.
That’s commitment.

Trust doesn’t return because someone promises harder.
It returns when a partner consistently chooses the relationship over convenience or comfort.

When your partner can relax again.
When they stop wondering.
When normal stops feeling risky.

That’s when freedom returns...without pressure, rules, or resentment.

Repair requires a temporary death to normal.
Not because life is over.
But because healing takes time.

01/28/2026

That line sounds simple.
But it hits different when you’re tired, frustrated, or emotionally worn down.

Because most marriages don’t fall apart from one big betrayal.
They erode when both people slowly stop noticing what is working.

Your brain is wired to scan for problems.
What’s not getting done.
What your spouse didn’t say.
The tone.
The tension.
The unmet need.

And over time, that becomes the story you live inside.

You can have:
• a partner who shows up every day
• someone who’s trying in the ways they know how
• a marriage that’s stable, loyal, and committed

…and still feel disconnected.

Not because the marriage is broken, but because your attention keeps landing on what’s missing instead of what’s present.

This isn’t about ignoring real issues.
It’s not about pretending everything is fine.

It’s about realizing that what you consistently notice shapes how the relationship feels.

When all you see is what your partner gets wrong, resentment grows.
When you start noticing effort, intention, or small moments of care, something softens.

Here’s a question I often give couples:

“What’s one thing your spouse does that you’d deeply miss if it disappeared?”

Not ten things.
Just one.

Because marriages don’t usually die from a lack of love.
They die from a lack of attention to the good that’s already there.

And sometimes the work isn’t fixing your partner...
it’s retraining your eyes.

01/20/2026

Staying married isn’t proof of success.
Choosing to divorce isn’t proof of failure.

It's often taught that staying married means you’re winning...no matter how tense, lonely, or depleted the relationship becomes. As if endurance alone equals love.

It doesn’t.

A relationship can stay intact and still do real damage.

And if kids are involved they'll feel it.

They may not understand the details, but they feel the heaviness.
The silence.
The walking on eggshells.
The way connection slowly disappears.

A home filled with tension teaches kids things they never asked to learn:
That love feels stressful.
That conflict doesn’t get repaired.
That staying quiet is safer than being honest.

This isn’t a case for divorce.
And it’s not a case against marriage.

It’s a reminder that quality matters more than appearances.

Healthy relationships feel steady.
They feel safe.
They don’t require emotional survival.

And here’s where my work comes in:

I believe deeply in marriage. I believe in repair. I believe people can change.

But change only happens when both people are willing to show up. To own their patterns, tell the truth, and do the uncomfortable work of growth.

Not when one person carries everything.
Not when accountability is one-sided.

When two people commit to growth together, relationships can heal in powerful ways.

And when they don’t?
Pretending won’t save it.

Healthy love doesn’t demand endurance.
It creates safety.

01/19/2026

There’s a quote I keep coming back to:

“Whatever you didn’t get in childhood, you’ll demand in your relationship.
Whatever hurt you in childhood, you’ll see everywhere in your partner.”

And it’s uncomfortably accurate.

If you didn’t feel emotionally safe growing up, you’ll crave reassurance now.
If you had to grow up fast, you’ll resent carrying everything.
If love felt inconsistent, you’ll scan for signs it’s about to disappear.

So when your partner gets quiet…
Forgets something…
Doesn’t respond the way you hoped…

Your nervous system doesn’t say, “This is probably nothing.”
It says, “Here we go again.”

And that’s when we start demanding instead of asking.
Protecting instead of connecting.
Reacting instead of slowing down.

Here’s the part most people miss:

Your partner isn’t causing your wound.
They’re just close enough to activate it.

That doesn’t mean your pain isn’t real.
It means your relationship is showing you where healing still needs to happen.

The goal isn’t to find someone who never triggers you.
That person doesn’t exist.

The goal is learning how to notice your patterns, calm your nervous system, and ask for connection without turning it into a fight.

That’s where real growth happens.
That’s where relationships start to feel safe again.

01/16/2026

Most breakups don’t start with moving boxes.
They start with silence.

It happens quietly.
The laugh fades.
“Tell me about your day” becomes “fine.”
The hand that used to reach for you stays put.

Then one day, someone leaves and everyone acts shocked.

But the truth?
The relationship ended emotionally a long time ago.

People don’t usually check out all at once.
They leak out slowly.

They stay because it’s complicated.
Because of money.
Kids.
Faith.
History.
Fear.

So instead of leaving, they conserve energy.
They stop asking.
Stop risking.
Stop reaching.

Not because they don’t care.
Because caring started to hurt.

Here’s what the emotional exit usually looks like:

• Small disappointments pile up
• Hard conversations move inside your head
• You start building a life around the relationship instead of with it
• The partnership becomes functional, not intimate

You’re not enemies.
You’re roommates with shared responsibilities.

And if you’re wondering, “How did we get here?”
That’s the right question.

Not: “Who’s the villain?”
But: “When did we stop being safe with each other?”

The emotional exit isn’t cruelty.
It’s a survival move.

But if it goes unnamed, it becomes permanent.

Because when someone finally leaves physically,
they’re usually just making official what’s already been true for a while.

How do you keep this from happening (or stop it if it already is)?

You don’t fix emotional drift with grand gestures.
You fix it by interrupting the silence as quickly as possible.

That looks like:
• Naming disappointment before it hardens into distance
• Making small, consistent bids for connection and noticing if they land
• Talking about what’s hard without keeping score
• Repairing quickly instead of stacking resentments
• Creating emotional safety, not just a functional household

If things already feel quiet, numb, or transactional don’t wait until you’re roommates filing paperwork.

Distance doesn’t mean it’s over.
But unspoken distance does.

If you recognize this pattern in your marriage, or you’re afraid you’re already living in Stage 4 or 5, I’d genuinely love to help you slow it down, reverse it, or at least get clarity before it’s too late.

You don’t need more effort.
You need better direction.

Gary Malone Counseling, PLLC

02/19/2026

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