What Is Actually Wrong in My Marriage?

If you are quietly asking yourself, What is actually wrong in my marriage?—this episode, and now this blog, is for you.

This is an incredibly difficult question when covert narcissism is part of the dynamic—especially when you can’t point to one clear incident. Especially when nothing sounds dramatic enough when you try to explain it. Especially when you feel confused, unsettled, and unsure why ordinary moments seem to carry so much emotional weight.

This journey is not about diagnosing your partner. It’s about building language—language that gives you words for what you are experiencing. And it’s not even really about the term covert narcissism. It’s about the confusion. The lack of emotional safety. The inability to work through issues. The self-doubt that quietly grows over time.

This is about confusion—the kind that builds when normal interactions don’t behave normally.

When Small Moments Leave You Disoriented

Here’s what that confusion can look like.

You notice the trash hasn’t been taken out. You mention it calmly.

“This trash can is getting full.”

Not angrily. Not accusingly. Not even with the expectation that anything has to be done—just a passing comment. Yet within minutes, the conversation has shifted.

Suddenly, you’re no longer talking about trash. You’re clarifying your tone. Explaining that you weren’t criticizing. Reassuring them you’re not trying to start a fight.

Later, you replay the exchange, wondering how a practical household task turned into emotional fallout.

Nothing “big” happened. There was no yelling. No obvious cruelty. But you walk away feeling off. Tight. Disoriented. Like you stepped on a silent landmine and have no idea how.

That’s the confusion we’re talking about here.

This journey isn’t about judging these moments or labeling them—it’s about slowing them down and understanding why they leave you questioning yourself.

Whether you’ve read all the books and listened to all the podcasts, or you’re just beginning to sense that something hasn’t been adding up, this space is for you.

Understanding Isn’t Linear

If you’re further along in this journey, you already know something important: understanding doesn’t arrive in a straight line.

Even with insight, you can still be hit with waves of emotion—emotional flashbacks, rumination, regret, guilt, or a sudden heaviness that seems to come out of nowhere. Knowing more doesn’t automatically quiet your nervous system, and it doesn’t mean you’re doing anything wrong when those waves show up.

That’s why this journey isn’t about collecting more information. It’s about organizing what you already know into something steady and usable. Something that supports your nervous system—not just your intellect.

And if you’re just getting started, know this: you are not behind.

You don’t need to understand all the terminology. You don’t need clarity yet. And you don’t need to know where this is going. Many people begin this journey with nothing more than a quiet sense that something hasn’t been right—and a deep exhaustion from trying to fix or explain it.

This is a place to begin untangling that confusion gently, at a pace your nervous system can tolerate.

The Confusion That Builds Quietly

Before continuing, I want to share that I have two brand-new coaching groups beginning mid-January 2026:

• One focused on divorcing a covert narcissist

• One focused on parenting with a covert narcissist

If either applies to you, visit covertnarcissism.com for details.

Now, if you’ve been listening to my podcast for a while, think back to before you had language for covert narcissism.

Before the patterns made sense. Before things had a name.

You may have called it communication problems. Stress. A rough season. Or even your own anxiety—because without a framework, confusion often turns inward.

When I look back over twenty-one years of marriage, I don’t replay one big moment. I replay hundreds of small ones. Moments that seemed harmless in isolation. Moments that didn’t sound alarming if I tried to explain them. Moments that felt like normal marriage friction—until they piled up and something inside me could never quite settle again.

Everyday Moments That Never Stay Simple

I remember asking what he wanted for dinner.

That was it. That was the question.

Within minutes, I was explaining myself. Clarifying my tone. Backtracking. Trying to understand what I had said wrong. We weren’t talking about food anymore—we were talking about me. About how I ask questions. About how I make things difficult. About how he “can’t ever do anything right.”

I would walk away thinking, How did we get here from chicken or pasta?

I remember simple drives to the store. No conflict when we got in the car—but by the time we arrived, he was angry at traffic, drivers, lights, the world. And somehow, I was absorbing it. My body was tight. My shoulders were raised. I stayed quiet, trying not to make things worse, knowing that either speaking or staying silent could backfire.

I remember family game nights. Monopoly on the table. Laughter at the start. And then—slowly, subtly—the shift. He took over. Enforced rules harshly. Mocked mistakes. Needed to dominate. By the end, no one was having fun. A child felt embarrassed. Another went quiet. And later, when I tried to name it, I was told I was the one ruining family time.

Each moment on its own seemed small. Together, they formed a pattern that never fully resolved.

When Repair Never Repairs

At first, none of this felt like a deal-breaker. Every marriage has ups and downs. People get stressed. Relationships take work.

But here’s where the confusion deepens.

Even gentle attempts at repair never stayed focused on the issue. When I tried to talk about how something landed on the kids, the focus shifted to my tone. My sensitivity. My intentions. I found myself defending why I brought it up rather than addressing what actually happened.

That’s when confusion really takes hold.

Because when even careful, well-intended conversations leave you feeling blamed or shut down, you stop trusting your perception. You start wondering whether it’s worth bringing things up at all.

That’s not how repair is supposed to feel.

Healthy conflict has a beginning, a middle, and an end. The issue stays the issue. There is relief afterward.

What creates confusion isn’t conflict—it’s conflict that never resolves. Conversations that never stay where they start. Interactions that leave you more unsettled than before.

What just happened? becomes a constant internal refrain.

When Confusion Moves Into the Body

Over time, that confusion doesn’t just live in your thoughts—it moves into your body.

For me, it showed up as a constant burning sensation in my chest. Not dramatic. Just ever-present. My body learned to brace in advance.

Family outings. Movie nights. Holidays. Hotel stays.

Before anything even happened, my chest was tight. My jaw clenched. My breathing shallow. I wasn’t reacting to what was happening—I was reacting to what might happen.

Nothing had to go wrong for my body to feel this way. Memory and pattern had already taught my nervous system that ordinary moments were unstable.

So I stayed alert. Careful. Always ready.

And when you live like that long enough, you stop asking what’s happening around you—and start assuming the problem must be inside you.

How Confusion Turns Into Self-Doubt

This is where confusion quietly turns inward.

You start believing you’re overreacting. Too sensitive. Too anxious. Too guarded. You replay conversations not to understand the dynamic—but to audit yourself.

Self-doubt becomes a false explanation. Because blaming yourself feels more controllable than admitting you’re living inside something unpredictable.

If it’s you, you can fix it.

So you try harder. Say less. Say more. Need less. Adjust more.

But the confusion doesn’t stop—because it was never coming from a lack of effort on your part.

When You Can’t Name What’s Wrong

Eventually, you try to name what’s wrong—and this is where many people get stuck.

You go to Google. And then you just stare at the search bar.

How do you even Google this?

Because on the surface, it looks like trash. Dishes. Tone. Timing. Monopoly.

And talking to someone about it feels impossible—because what you’re living inside doesn’t have one clear incident or name. Just a long trail of moments that don’t resolve.

That’s why the question What is actually wrong in my marriage? is so hard to answer.

Not because nothing is wrong—but because what’s wrong shows up as confusion.

And when something can’t be named, it can’t be addressed. It can only be endured.

A Starting Point

There is an overwhelming amount of information about narcissism—some helpful, some contradictory, some flooding.

This journey is about slowing it down. Organizing it. Making it digestible. Grounding it in lived experience—not theory alone.

This episode—and this blog—is the starting point.

Confusion is usually just the beginning.

In the next stage, many people try even harder. Communicate better. Be more patient. And when nothing improves—or things feel worse—exhaustion and fear set in.

In the next episode, we’ll talk about why this can feel so unfixable even when you’re doing everything you can—and why that matters.

You are not failing because this feels unfixable. And you are not weak for being tired.

Until next time, I wish you so much peace on your journey of healing.