Is Marriage Unnatural?    Yep.

By Gina Watson, LMFTS, Marriage Therapist

Let’s talk about something we don’t like to admit out loud: marriage might just be unnatural for the human animal.

Our bodies are still wired for survival in a dangerous world—even though most of us now live in houses, not caves, and the threats we face aren’t predators or famine, but emotional discomfort and eye rolls. Still, our nervous system reacts the same way.

When a spouse turns toward us with what might be a clumsy bid for connection, a protest based insecurity, or even just a complaint about the dishes, our primitive brain doesn’t say, “Aww! My person wants to feel close to me.”  It says: “Warning: I’m being attacked. Defend. Withdraw. Shut down. Strike back.”

It’s the same nervous system that once helped us dodge saber-toothed tigers and survive tribal wars. But in modern relationships, this self-preservation instinct often backfires. What was once a survival strategy no longer make us safer.  It makes us more alone.

 Why Emotional Safety Feels So Elusive

Our partners aren’t trying to kill us. Really.  But when they express hurt, frustration, or disappointment, it can feel like a threat—especially to someone already carrying insecurities or past wounds. A person who feels “not good enough” doesn’t just hear a complaint—they hear confirmation of their worst fear.  So they react. Harshly. Defensively. Coldly.  This reaction then triggers the same fight-or-flight reflex in the other partner, who now feels they are under attack.

And just like that, the fight cycle begins without us even realizing what happened.

This is why emotional safety is so hard to build and so easy to destroy. Our biology isn’t wired to pause, get curious, stay open, or offer compassion in the face of perceived threat. Our default is SELF-preservation.  Not marriage-preservation or love-of-my-life-preservation.

Let’s just speak the truth:  Marriage is hard.

We take two people, each with their own childhood baggage, bad habits, weird sleep sounds, and wildly different ideas of what “clean” means—and we ask them to live together, share bank accounts, raise kids, and sleep in the same bed until one of them dies.

And then we’re shocked when it’s hard.

Our Caveman Brains Aren’t Built for This

Here’s the thing most people forget: your nervous system still thinks it lives in the wild.

So when your spouse gives you “the look” across the dinner table or says, “Hey, can we talk about something?” your body doesn’t say, “Ah, time for a warm emotional check-in.”

Nope. Your body says:  “Danger! You’re being attacked! Defend the castle!”

Your brain pulls the alarm.  Your heart rate shoots up.  Your inner defense attorney prepares an opening statement.  And you’re suddenly in a courtroom arguing over who unloaded the dishwasher last Tuesday.

This is the fight-or-flight reflex. It kept our ancestors from being eaten by bears, but now it’s ruining Tuesday night dinner.

A lonely or hurting partner often reaches out in the only way they know how—with a complaint. They may say, “You never listen to me,” when what they mean is, “I don’t feel seen and I don’t feel close to you anymore.”

But instead of hearing the longing behind the words we hear nagging, criticism, attacks.  They pull away—or they argue back.  And the original clunky bid for closeness creates more distance and more confirmation that you actually aren’t close anymore.  We don’t hear “I need you.”  We hear “You’re failing.”

No one is being “crazy.” No one is trying to be mean.  We’re just human. Wired for survival over intimacy.

Stop Blaming Yourself (and Stop Blaming Your Partner)

Here’s where so many couples go wrong: they start blaming each other for doing what the nervous system is designed to do.

And it’s not just blaming the other person—some people blame themselves, too.

“Why do I always react this way?”
“They clearly don’t care about me.”
“What’s wrong with me?”
“If they really loved me, they wouldn’t shut down like that.”

But blaming only makes things worse. It keeps you locked in the cycle.

Because here’s the truth: it is incredibly difficult to inhibit the self-preservation instinct.
In the moment of activation, your brain is doing exactly what it’s built to do: protect you from danger. It doesn’t yet know this isn’t a threat to your life—it’s a threat to your ego, your identity, your self-esteem or your emotional security. But the body reacts just the same.

Blaming someone for this reflex is like blaming them for flinching when something flies at their face. It’s not a choice—it’s a reflex.  What is a choice is what happens next.

Please hear me, this bears repeating: don’t blame your partner for this—and don’t blame yourself either.

You’re both just a couple of messy human beings doing your best while being hijacked by your prehistoric nervous systems. That thing is strong. It’s been in charge for hundreds of thousands of years.

So when your partner shuts down or lashes out or retreats to their phone like it’s a security blanket, don’t assume they don’t care. Assume they’re flooded. Their brain thinks they’re in a life-or-death situation—and you just happen to be standing there holding a spatula.

Time-Outs Aren’t Just for Toddlers

The way forward isn’t blame or shame. It’s growing your awareness muscle. It’s learning how to notice what is happening inside of you and pause without acting— to buy just enough time for your nervous system to realize that saying what you are thinking would be a terrible idea.

That might mean saying:

• “I’m feeling flooded. I need a few minutes.”
• “We need a time-out.”
• “My body’s reacting like I’m under attack, and I need to take cover.”
• “I’m going to step away and breathe until I can remember that I like you.”

This isn’t avoidance—it’s self-regulation.

Taking a timeout isn’t giving up and doesn’t mean you aren’t going to come back to the issue. It’s buying yourself (and your relationship) some time to be intentional and do something different for a change.  That little pause gives your nervous system time to realize that no, you are not being hunted, and yes, you still love this person even if they do breathe too loud.

While, ideally this doesn’t mean storming out like a teenager, some days that may be the best you can do. If you can pull off an adult, “Hey, I’m getting overwhelmed and I want to respond—not react—so I’m going to take 20 minutes to reset, and I’ll be back” then you are killing it.

 The Part of You That Knows Better

Here’s the good news: you’re not just a bundle of fight-or-flight reflexes.
You’ve also got something deeper—call it your higher self, your soul, your wise inner grandma—whatever fits.  And nowhere is that part of us tested more than in intimate partnership.

It’s the part of you that can rise above the noise and say:

“I could snap right now… OR I could take a deep breath and ask what they really meant.”
“I could win this argument… OR I could choose not to spend the next three days in awkward silence.”
“I could throw this spatula… but it’s a nice spatula, and I don’t want to buy another one.”

This higher self is what makes humans different from raccoons and toddlers.  We can pause and take our time.  We can get curious instead of judgey.  We can choose love—even when we’re annoyed.

Here’s the beautiful paradox: even though marriage challenges our biology, it also calls us into something higher.

 Marriage as Spiritual Boot Camp.

And your partner? They’re not just your lover or co-parent, they’re your teacher—especially when they trigger you.

The places where you feel most wounded, most sensitive, most reactive… those are the very areas where your higher self is trying to get your attention. Your partner’s behavior may activate those old wounds, but that’s not a mistake. It’s an invitation.

When you learn to transcend your brain, your body, and your ego—when you respond from that higher place instead of reacting from fear—you begin to experience marriage as something more than a legal agreement or romantic bond.  You experience it as a spiritual path.  One where you consistently act from your values, not your threat system.  One that stretches you.  One that should humble you.  And one that—if you’ll get out of your own way—can transform you.

Your partner is going to trigger you—not because they’re crazy, but because they’re perfect. For you.  (Annoying. Inconvenient. But true.)

Marriage isn’t just about finding someone to split a mortgage with. It’s about growing up. Waking up. Sounding more like a mature adult than a snarky teenager when someone triggers us.

And nothing brings up your unhealed junk faster than someone who lives in your house and knows exactly where your buttons are—and just how to push them.

Marriage: The Highest Evolutionary Ask

So no, marriage isn’t “natural.”  But it is something bigger.

It’s a chance to become the kind of person who pauses until you can be kind instead of unleashing blistering sarcasm.  The kind of person who stays curious instead of reflexively assuming the worst.  The kind of person who chooses kindness even when they’re low-key plotting to push you out of a moving car.

It’s not easy. But it’s sacred.  Because every time you override your ego, every time you take a breath instead of throwing a barb, every time you show up with love when it would be easier to run—you grow.

And in that way, marriage becomes holy ground.  Even if you’re standing on it in your mismatched socks, waving a spatula, wondering why marriage is so damn hard.

To wrap this up, marriage isn’t “unnatural” in the sense that it’s bad or wrong—

but it absolutely asks more of us than our primitive wiring is ready to offer.  It’s actually a pretty radical act.  It asks us to go against millions of years of survival instincts and lean into curiosity and emotional presence at precisely the moment it appears our partner cannot stand us.

It asks us to interrupt reactivity and choose compassion.  To slow down instead of strike back.  To stay open, even when it feels risky.

It asks us to evolve—not just emotionally, but spiritually.

And that kind of relationship?  So worth it.