We're married... but are we still connected?

Jorge and I have been married for 16 years and have been together for 22. Some of you reading this might think, that's baby love! While others might wonder how we even got here. But over the last two weeks, I've been reflecting on love and what it all means. Perhaps it's the conversations I've been having with friends and clients that brought it up and made me wonder: we're married... but are we still connected? what does it all mean?

Now, in honesty, we can both say that it's not all roses, and we get very annoyed with each other (scrap that, we get seriously pissed off with each other!). We're human, after all, and we feel things. But the one thing that always remains, even through the messy bits, is this: we speak. Maybe too much sometimes, if Jorge has anything to say about it!

And over the last few weeks, we've had some pretty big conversations.

You see, we're six months back from travelling around Australia for a year. Six months into 'normal', whatever that even means now. Living in one place, finding rhythm again, Amelia is back at school. Maybe it's the cold, icy Sydney (seriously, our house never warms up, anyone else?), or it's the contrast to last year's sunshine and freedom, but we've both found ourselves at a crossroads.

What does the next six months look like?

What do we want?

How do we want to feel?

And we've both been feeling this but not talking about it. So, you fall into that trap, right? Just doing what needs doing: cooking, school, errands, work... and then collapsing on the couch. Now, we work together, so we're always in each other's space, but yet, we've both felt distant, alone and disconnected, it turns out.

And that's when the real question came up:

We are married... but are we still connected?

And when I'm in this space where something doesn't feel right, I have to put my big girl pants on (hey, who am I kidding, they're always on!), but now my mental ones, and speak appropriately to my husband. Because if I don't, I might just go crazy with my internal narrative.

So, I did. I said the words: "Hey love," in that tone, which, after 22 years, Jorge knows means "I'm about to have a big chat with you", and I said, "Something's not right, We are married... but are we still connected? Right now, I'm not your wife. I'm your friend of 22 years. What's going on?"

And I probably needed that question to be mine. But by asking it, it helped start something. And I know that in all scenarios when you're picking a fight or not feeling great with each other, it's because you feel disconnected, unappreciated, and lonely. So, instead of blaming or labelling, I decided to strip it all back. Take away the roles we play, the parents, the business partners, the over-functioning adults, and speak. Just listen.

It was a great conversation. No solutions, no big wins for either of us, but just a moment to speak to my friend of 22 years. To admit that it sucks, to acknowledge what felt shitty, and be there for each other.

The next day, still feeling unsure of things but knowing it would get better (there's that HOPE), I was having a lovely conversation with Amelia. We were snuggled in bed early in the morning, and she asked about a picture on our bedroom wall. It's a wooden frame, one I see every day but often forget to truly look at. She wanted to know more about it.

This frame was a gift from Jorge for our anniversary. In the early years, we were big on celebrating traditional anniversary symbols (so cute!). You know, the ones where each year means a particular thing: paper, wood, metal, and so on. Year five was, yep, you guessed it, wood. And on this frame are the key milestones of our relationship:

When we first met.

When we got back together.

When we got married.

And five years of bliss.

She then pointed to the last sentence and asked, "Mummy, what does that say?"

It says:

Love you. Always have. Always will.

And I smiled. Because those were the words Jorge said to me when he proposed. On our wedding day and for many years after, we continued to write them in text messages and on every card. It was our thing. Our quiet promise.

As I shared that story with her, I had two strong, contrasting thoughts come to mind.

One was love. This beautiful rush of remembering how romantic he used to be, how thoughtful those gestures were, how deeply connected we once were through the most minor things.

And then, sadness. Because as much as we are married, it made me wonder again, are we still connected in the ways that matter most?

Sadly, both of us (and I say both, not just him) haven't said those words in a while. We've stopped writing those kinds of cards. That somewhere between the busyness, the parenting, and the pressure, we've stopped considering each other in that way.

And I could have sat there with the label:

He's not romantic anymore.

He let that part die.

He changed.

But I didn't. Then I remembered that for that same anniversary, I had bought him a jewellery box to hold his cufflinks and watch, engraved with those exact magical words: Always have. Always will.

And suddenly, I saw it for what it was. We are married... but are we still connected? The answer isn't in grand gestures. It's in the small, consistent moments we let slip away. We both stopped reaching. We both forgot. We both slowly let go of the rituals that made us feel more than just housemates or co-parents. We stopped creating space for those small moments of intentional love.

Because when we stop blaming and labelling, we start to see. We see the parts we both play and the decisions we both make.

And the space we can create if we're willing to be honest.

Love gets buried sometimes. Not because it's gone but because the weight of life piles up on top of it. And if you're not careful, the stories you tell yourself and the labels we dish out, he's distant, she nags, we've changed, become the truth you live in.

But if you're brave enough to pause, take the labels off, and speak?

When you are both willing to take the labels off and just listen, you might find your way back to each other. Just be there to understand and see them for the friend you first met and the lover they have become.

You might realise: yes, we are married... and we can be connected again.

If you are in this season, too, in your relationship, here are some reflections to help support you:

• What labels have you quietly placed on your partner or yourself over the years?

• What might be possible if you let those go, even for a moment?

• How can you create a moment this week to see each other again, without the story, just with presence?

You might be wondering, so what happened? Did they get to the big moment of resolution? We are still working through it. Checking in on our values, checking in on our goals, and reminding each that we are married... and yes, we are still connected, even when it doesn't always feel like it. These are the threads that stitch us together. That keeps us moving. Is it perfect and always aligned? HELL NO. But if we can offer any advice here, it's this: keep talking, remove those labels, and remember who each of you was... friends first, then lovers.

So today, I'm choosing to lean on love, not the labels we've worn over time, not the assumptions I've made, and not the stories that feel easier to cling to when things are hard. I choose to believe that love lies beneath the roles we play. And that seeing each other clearly, messy, changing, flawed, and hopeful is the most romantic thing we can do.

We are married... but are we still connected? That's the question that matters.

And I believe the answer can be yes-if we're willing to look again.

Learning to lean on love every day.

Vikki

FREE 45 Minute Coaching Session

Book Now