When Couples Start Keeping Score: What Are We Really Counting?

By anne decore, lmft

Most couples don’t walk around with an actual scorecard. But many can tell you the score.

“I got up with the kids three times this week.”

“I initiated the last two date nights.”

“We always spend the holidays with your family.”

“I’m the one who schedules the babysitter.”

“I apologized last time.”

When couples start keeping score, I’m less interested in the tally itself than in what has made it feel so important.

When We’re Depleted, We Start Keeping Score

When partners generally feel cared for and appreciated, and life isn’t asking more of them than they have to give, there tends to be flexibility around who is doing what. You made dinner three nights this week; I made it once. I handled bedtime because you were exhausted. You took the kids Saturday morning because I needed a break.

But when one or both partners become depleted, suddenly we start keeping track.

And depletion doesn’t always require an extraordinary life event. Modern family life can simply ask a lot of us. The cost of housing and childcare, demanding work schedules, raising children without family nearby, and even the increasing disruptions and uncertainty of weather and climate can create a steady background of stress. Add an illness, a new baby, a job loss, or an aging parent, and already-stretched couples can find themselves with very little left to give.

When couples enter a period of compassion scarcity- when both people are so depleted that it becomes harder to access empathy for what the other is going through- each person can become acutely aware of what they are carrying and increasingly irritated by what the other person seemingly isn’t.

Sometimes that’s about a genuine inequity. But sometimes something else is happening. When we’re suffering, we naturally turn toward the person we’re most attached to. Remember, our earliest attachment relationships are where distress and co-regulation become linked: when something felt overwhelming, we looked to someone else to help make it more manageable. We carry some version of that expectation into our adult relationships.

The trouble is that our partner may be depleted too. They may not have much comfort, patience, or practical help available to give us. Or we may be unconsciously asking them to relieve distress that isn’t actually within their power to fix.

In either case, the experience can feel surprisingly lonely: I’m struggling. You’re right here. Why don’t I feel better?

Keeping score can give that suffering somewhere to land: I’m overwhelmed because I’m doing everything and you’re not.

Sometimes that’s true. But sometimes our partner has become the most available target for distress that belongs, at least partly, to a difficult season—or simply to a life that is asking too much of both of us.

At this point, scorekeeping can begin to function like a power struggle. Instead of us against the problem, it becomes me against you: I gather evidence of everything I’m carrying, you gather evidence of everything you’re carrying, and each of us becomes increasingly invested in having our version of the relationship recognized as the right one. The very person we want to feel supported by starts to feel like our opponent.

We Don’t Always Agree on What Counts

There’s another complication: partners often aren’t keeping track of the same things.

One person is focused on household labor. The other is focused on financial responsibility. One notices school forms, birthday gifts, and doctor’s appointments. The other notices staying late at work or handling home repairs. One is counting how often they initiate affection; the other is counting how often they rearrange their schedule for the family.

Both partners can sincerely believe they’re doing more. We’re not unbiased scorekeepers. We tend to notice and give more weight to what we deem important, while many of our partner’s contributions happen outside our field of vision, or simply don’t register as strongly because they aren’t the things we’re keeping track of.

The scoreboard only captures what we’ve decided to count.

Taking the Long View

One of the problems with keeping score is that it captures a moment in time. Long-term relationships require us to take a much longer view.

Over the lifespan of a relationship, the balance inevitably shifts. Pregnancy, babies, career opportunities, unemployment, illness, grief, aging parents, mental health struggles, disability, financial setbacks—all sorts of things can temporarily change what each person is capable of contributing.

Life is long. We don’t know in advance which one of us will need to be carried, or when.

Fairness in a long-term relationship isn’t necessarily about keeping the score even at every moment. It’s about developing enough trust that the relationship can flex, that each person can carry more when the other has less to give, with a broader sense of reciprocity over time.

That doesn’t mean accepting chronic inequity. There is an important difference between an imbalance that reflects the season you’re in and an imbalance that has become the structure of the relationship.

If You’ve Started Keeping Score

If you notice yourself mentally cataloguing every bedtime, sacrifice, affectionate gesture, or time you were the one to give in, take the scorekeeping seriously; but not necessarily literally.

Instead of building a stronger case against your partner, try to identify what you actually need. Do you need practical help? More acknowledgment of what you’re carrying? Reassurance that you’re in this together? Is there a genuine inequity that needs to change? Or are you overwhelmed by something neither of you can fix and hoping, understandably, that your partner can somehow make it feel less difficult?

Then get curious about what your partner has been counting, too. What have they been carrying that you may not see? What matters to them that perhaps hasn’t been registering on your scoreboard?

These conversations can be surprisingly difficult to have on your own. Once a couple has become locked in a power struggle over who is doing more, even an attempt to understand each other can quickly turn into another round of presenting evidence. Couples therapy can help slow that process down and shift the focus from proving whose version is right to understanding what the scorekeeping has come to represent for each person: an unmet need, an unacknowledged inequity, a longing for more connection or support, or simply two people who have run out of emotional bandwidth at the same time.

The goal isn’t to determine who wins the argument about who does more. It’s to understand what each of you needs to feel more like a team and less like opponents.

A Couples Therapist's Guide to Planning Family Vacations as a Team

By Anne Decore, lmft

Family vacations are meant to offer connection, adventure, and a break from daily routines. Yet many couples return home feeling more depleted than restored, disconnected instead of bonded.

Often, the breakdown starts before you’ve even left home.

Someone has to research destinations, compare flights, book accommodations, coordinate schedules, pack for children, remember medications, arrange pet care, anticipate weather changes, and think three steps ahead at every turn. This invisible planning work is often referred to as the mental load. And if it’s not explicitly discussed and distributed, it can cause burnout and/or resentment.

There isn't one right approach for couples to manage the mental load.

1. Choose Your Team Structure Intentionally. Some couples function as co-planners. Others naturally settle into a "captain and first mate" arrangement, with one person steering the overall vision while the other provides support, feedback, and practical execution.

No model is inherently better. The key question is: Does our system feel fair, intentional, and appreciated by both of us? Problems tend to arise when roles are assumed rather than discussed, when one partner feels trapped in a role they no longer enjoy, or when contributions become invisible and unacknowledged.

A useful question to start with: "How do we want to divide the work of this trip in a way that plays to our strengths and feels good to both of us?"

2. Recognize Visible and Invisible Contributions. Planning responsibilities extend beyond booking flights and creating itineraries. The partner who researches every restaurant may be carrying significant cognitive labor. But so might the partner who loads the car, entertains children during delays, handles navigation, manages luggage, or remains calm when plans change.

Healthy teamwork requires recognizing that contributions can look very different while still being equally valuable.

3. Revisit the Arrangement Over Time. A system that worked when children were toddlers may not work during adolescence. A partner who once enjoyed organizing every detail may now feel overwhelmed by other life demands.

Rather than assuming your roles are fixed, revisit them periodically. Flexibility is often more important than symmetry. Questions to consider include:

• What parts of travel planning do each of us genuinely enjoy?

• What responsibilities feel draining right now?

• Are there tasks we'd like to trade or share differently this year?

• Do both of us feel seen and appreciated for our contributions?

4. Prioritize Partnership Over Perfection. No amount of planning eliminates every challenge. Flights get delayed, children melt down, and expectations collide with reality. The couples who navigate vacations most successfully are rarely the ones with the perfect itinerary. They're the ones who maintain a sense of partnership when things go wrong.

If you approach your vacation with the conscious goal of protecting your sense of partnership, the entire experience shifts. Whether your planning style is co-planners, specialists, or captain and first mate, the strongest systems are the ones that are intentional, flexible, and grounded in appreciation. Before you crack open the guidebook, spend some time talking about how you want to work as a team. The conversation may do more for your vacation than any itinerary ever could.

How to Set Boundaries With Your Phone While Not Feeling Isolated

By Nicole Carroll, lmft

If you’ve ever tried to use your phone less, you probably already know that it’s not that simple. Your phone isn’t just a device. It’s how you connect, unwind, stay informed, and sometimes even avoid things or feelings. So when people suggest cutting back, it can feel less like self-care and more like losing access to your life.

Many of my clients say some version of “I don’t want to be glued to it, but I don’t want to miss things either.” “Why does being unavailable make me anxious?” If that resonates, you’re not doing anything wrong. You’re running into a very real and common issue which is the need for connection vs. the need for mental space. Let’s talk about how to create boundaries that support both.

Before we get into strategies, it helps to explore and understand what’s actually happening underneath. When you step away from your phone, you might notice a spike in anxiety, a fear of missing out, sense of disconnection, or even guilt for not responding right away. This isn’t just about habits. it’s about attachment and safety. Your brain has learned that being reachable means being connected which means being safe. Therefore, the goal isn’t less phone time but more intentional use. Try asking yourself “when does my phone actually support me, and when does it drain me?”. This mindset highlights the choice you’re making when it comes to how you spend your time. 

Ways to Set Phone Boundaries:

Start With “Soft Boundaries,” Not Extreme Ones: Going from constant scrolling to full restriction is a big jump. Your brain will push back. Instead, try to implement smaller changes like not using your phone for the first 20 minutes of your morning or putting your phone in another room while you eat.

Replace, Don’t Remove: One reason phone boundaries feel so empty is because nothing is taking their place. If you remove scrolling, ask yourself, “what am I actually needing in this moment?” Is it a distraction, comfort, connection, rest? Whatever it is, then replace it with something that meets that need. Such as texting one person instead of scrolling or going for a walk with music/podcast. Boundaries work better when they feel like a trade, not a loss.

Create “Connection Windows”: Create a time where you check messages and respond versus always being available. This helps your nervous system relax because connection is still guaranteed, just not constant.

Notice the Emotional Pull (Not Just the Habit): Next time you reach for your phone, pause for a second and explore the feelings that come up such as boredom, loneliness, overwhelm, or avoidance. Your phone isn’t the problem, but it’s the solution you have associated to the feelings. When you understand the feeling, you have more choice in how to respond.

Redefine What “Being Connected” Means: You have to do the deeper work to break the current belief and narrative that you hold about connection and what that looks like. Connection is feeling understood, being present, and having boundaries in relationships. Connection does not need to look like being constantly available and responding to everything right away. You don’t lose connection by stepping away from your phone. You often make space for a more meaningful version of it.

Boundaries may feel hard, and that is completely understandable, but it is not impossible. It is more information for you that the deeper work needs to be done. Instead of becoming someone who barely uses their phone, a more sustainable goal might be using it in a way that supports your mental health and creating more balance. If this is something you’re struggling with, you’re not alone. Navigating connection in a digital-focused world is genuinely hard and it makes sense that your system is trying to keep up the best way it knows how.