We didn’t know what awareness was.
Not really.
Before 2022, we thought we were doing fine. Loving each other hard. Avoiding arguments. Figuring life out. But looking back, we weren’t fully here. We were doing what most people do—talking to be heard, reacting to be right, and missing the real moments right in front of us: each other.
Then we read A New Earth. One book. One shift. And suddenly, we saw everything differently.
Awareness didn’t just improve our communication—it became the foundation of it. Before, I would respond fast. Too fast. My words came from a place of agenda, not love. From habit, not presence. And when that happens, something breaks. The conversation ends, but nothing gets resolved. No one feels heard. No one feels held.
Now, when I’m aware, I stop. Not just what I’m doing, but what I’m thinking. I listen to hear, not to reply. I watch her eyes. I hear her breath. I sense the way she slows down to make space for me. And I do the same for her.
Because the fastest way to lose someone you love is to stop being there when they speak.
That doesn’t mean we’re perfect. We still slip. We still get caught in stress or noise or exhaustion. But we know the signs now. We know when one of us is reacting, not responding. When tension enters the room. When resistance shows up instead of curiosity.
That’s when we pause. Not out of anger, but out of love. We take space without leaving. Fold laundry. Wash dishes. Breathe. Let our thoughts settle so we can come back as ourselves, not our defenses.
We don’t argue anymore. Not because we avoid conflict, but because awareness dissolved the need for it. Our home is quiet now. Not just in sound, but in spirit.
And on the days when one of us is too tired to be present? We hold each other. We cook something simple. We rub each other’s backs. We journal in silence on the same couch. We scroll through old photos and remember who we are. We find presence in the little things, even when words fail.
Our son sees this. He mirrors it. He mimicked our earlier tensions when he was younger, before we understood what we were teaching without knowing. But now? Now he mirrors peace. Calm. He is learning what it means to stay.
If I could go back and tell my younger self one thing, it would be this:
It’s going to take work. Not on your partner—on yourself. It’s going to take patience, awareness, and the willingness to listen without needing to win. And it won’t happen overnight. So start now. Put the effort in before the storm. Make a promise to see each other, even when it’s hard. Breathe!
We did our best before we knew better. We loved each other through confusion. But we are so grateful to know what we know now.
To the couples feeling distant, reactive, on edge:
Start with truth. Yours first. Let go of the masks. Drop the defense. Ask yourself: Can I be honest with this person? Can I trust them? Can they trust me?
Because without truth, there is no awareness. And without awareness, there is no love that lasts.
Start there. The rest will come.
–G. Anthony