You've survived couples therapy—hooray!

Now comes the sequel: navigating life without backsliding into old patterns.

Research assures us that couples who maintain their hard-won progress are less likely to sheepishly return to their therapist whispering, “We, uh… backslid” (Doss et al., 2019).

Let’s explore the science of relationship maintenance.

You signed up for couples therapy, sat on the couch, nodded at all the right moments, and yet… nothing is changing.

Maybe you’re still having the same arguments about laundry. Maybe one of you talks too much in sessions, or worse—one of you doesn’t talk at all.

Maybe the therapist seems more interested in their notepad than your marriage. Welcome to the frustrating world of therapy that isn’t working.

Good news: You are not alone.

Research suggests that around 30% of couples drop out of therapy before seeing meaningful progress (Snyder et al., 2018).

The bad news?

If you do nothing, those unresolved issues will continue to eat away at your relationship.

So, what now?

Convincing your partner to try couples therapy can feel like selling kale to a kid—it’s good for them, but they’re not buying it.

The good news?

Research says therapy works (Doss et al., 2009).

The bad news? Your partner might think it’s a trap.

So, how do you make the pitch without starting another argument?

Surviving a year of science-based couples therapy deserves a trophy—or at least fewer arguments about who loads the dishwasher wrong.

But here’s the real question: How often should you return for a tune-up? There’s no one-size-fits-all answer, but research offers some solid guardrails.

Think of couples therapy like car maintenance—ignore it, and you’ll be on the side of the Emotional Breakdown Highway.

According to Doss et al. (2020), couples who had regular check-ins were 40% less likely to hit crisis mode.

Meanwhile, Stanley et al. (2021) found that annual sessions work like relationship physicals—preventative, not reactive.

Marriage, as an institution, predates most gods.

The first couples weren’t blessed by a priest but probably nodded at each other over a fire and said, “Let’s not kill each other.”

Family? That’s justmore people and more opportunities for passive-aggressive notes on the fridge.

But what happens when you strip marriage and family life of religious scaffolding?

What happens when you seek therapy without faith in divine intervention, cosmic justice, or even a benevolent old man watching from the clouds?

You end up here: in the very human, very secular, but still very messy reality of relationships.

Welcome to marriage and family therapy for atheists.

St. Thomas Aquinas never had to schedule an emergency session for a couple on the verge of divorce.

He never sat in a dimly lit office watching two people, exhausted from years of cold war, chew their lips bloody as they struggled to say anything at all.

He never glanced at the clock, wondering whether another 50-minute hour could even begin to untangle the knots in their love.

But Aquinas knew something about human nature. And that’s all couples therapy really is—an attempt to wrestle with the raw, unreasonable, incomprehensible stuff of human nature.

The good saint knew that love isn’t a feeling, or a reward, or a cosmic accident.

Love is a thing that people do, day after day, in defiance of entropy.

It is an act of the will, a choice, a sacrifice, a small rebellion against the overwhelming loneliness of being alive.

Aquinas did not think this was particularly romantic. He thought it was true.

Picture this: It’s the late 1950s.

You and your partner are sitting cross-legged in a dimly lit coffeehouse, the scent of espresso mingling with cigarette smoke.

A bongo drum taps in the background as a man in a black turtleneck snaps his fingers approvingly at a poem about existential despair.

You lean into each other, trying to decide if love is just another bourgeois construct—or the ultimate beatific experience.

Welcome to Beatnik Couples Therapy, where love gets the jazzy, free-spirited treatment it deserves.

If couples therapy existed in the Beatnik era, it would’ve been a smoky mix of poetry, Zen philosophy, and jazz improvisation, with a side of existential navel-gazing.

But honestly? It might just be the therapy you didn’t know your relationship needed.

Welcome to Schopenhauer Couples Therapy, where the motto is: "Love is an illusion, suffering is inevitable, and you’re probably both to blame."

It’s not exactly romantic, but hey, it’s honest.

Schopenhauer, the original philosopher of doom and gloom, might not have been the life of the party, but he’d sure have some pointed insights about the toxic tango of narcissism in relationships.

Let’s dive into how a therapy session with ol’ Arthur might go down—if you don’t cry or storm out first.

Imagine sitting across from Marcus Aurelius in a serene therapy office. Instead of asking, “How does that make you feel?” he begins with, “What are you choosing to think about this situation?”

Stoic philosophy, with its focus on emotional regulation, values-based living, and acceptance of life’s impermanence, offers a compelling framework for modern relationships.

In this blog post, we’ll delve deeply into Stoic writings to discuss what a Stoic Marriage and Family Therapy (SMFT) model might look like.

Along the way, we’ll explore power dynamics, compare Stoic principles to Gottman’s research and Emotionally Focused Therapy (EFT), and discuss the contrasts between modern “personhood” approaches to therapy and more ancient “values-based” models.

The Stoic approach emphasizes cultivating resilience, fostering virtue, and promoting harmony through a framework that is timeless yet profoundly relevant.

Imagine this: it’s 145 CE, and life in Rome is a bustling mix of marble statues, toga parties, and slightly overcooked dormice at dinner.

Your marriage, however, is starting to feel more like a Greek tragedy than a Roman triumph. Enter ancient Roman couples therapy—a blend of philosophy, pragmatism, and a reverent nod to the pantheon of now-extinct Roman virtues.

Forget modern therapy’s emphasis on feelings.

In Rome, it’s all about duty, legacy, and ensuring your family’s good name doesn’t end up a cautionary tale whispered in the Senate.

Therapy sessions would feel less like spilling your emotions over tea and more like a tactical meeting of two Roman generals strategizing peace in a civil war.

Traditional therapy has long been confined to the cozy four walls of an office—a safe, predictable space where emotions are unpacked and healing begins.

But as the world changes, so does the way we approach mental health.

Modern therapy is increasingly breaking free of these boundaries, moving into parks, hiking trails, workplaces, and even co-living spaces.

This shift reflects a growing understanding of how the environment profoundly impacts emotional well-being and opens up new possibilities for connection, growth, and healing.

In an age marked by intensifying natural disasters, global pandemics, and political instability, families are grappling with unprecedented levels of stress.

Events like the Los Angeles fires, which have displaced thousands and left communities grappling with loss and uncertainty, reveal how crises can destabilize not just homes but entire relational ecosystems.

The urgency of these challenges demands that family therapy evolve to meet the moment, addressing not only long-term relational goals but the immediate need for stabilization in times of acute stress.

Crisis-oriented therapy models have emerged as a vital response to these realities, offering structured, short-term interventions aimed at helping families regain their footing during upheaval.

These models focus on stabilizing relationships, improving communication, and fostering emotional resilience, all while addressing the external pressures that crises bring.

To understand how these models can shape the future of family therapy, it is essential to explore their theoretical foundations, real-world applications, and potential for adaptation in a rapidly changing world.