Let me tell you what one of my goals is for every couple that walks through my door:
I want you both to get really, really good at imperfect action.
Not perfect communication. Not flawless vulnerability. Not ideal conflict resolution.
What is imperfect Action? Clumsy attempts. Awkward apologies. Moments of vulnerability that dissolve into defensiveness halfway through. Trying something new and landing it badly.
Because here's what I know after years of working with couples: Imperfect action is not a consolation prize. It's the whole point.
When your partner gives you an awkward apology—"I'm sorry I said that, but you really pushed my buttons"—they're doing something partially right. They said "I'm sorry." That might be new. Yes, there's a "but" attached. Yes, it's not perfect. But they're trying.
When your partner stays in a hard conversation for three minutes before getting defensive and shutting down, they stayed for three minutes. That might be twice as long as last time. That's progress.
When your partner reaches for connection in a surface-level way—"So, how was your day?"—instead of staying behind their phone, they reached. That's movement.
And if your response to any of those moments is to focus only on what they did wrong—to hammer them for the "but" in the apology, to criticize the shutdown, to dismiss the awkward bid for connection as inadequate—they might not understand that you saw the win.
They might only hear: "I'm still failing. Why bother trying?"
And that is not an encouraging stance. That is a stance that kills growth before it has a chance to take root.
Why Imperfect Action Is Actually the Goal
Here's what most people don't understand about relational change: You don't go from zero to mastery overnight.
Think about learning anything new. When you learned to drive, you didn't start on the highway. You started in a parking lot, jerking the wheel, hitting the brakes too hard, forgetting to check your mirrors. You were terrible. And that was expected.
Do you have kids? Think about when they learned to walk. Your one-year-old took one wobbly step, face full of concentration and joy, and then—thump—down they went. Did you stand over them and say, "Really? That's the best you can do? One step? Why can't you just walk across the room like a normal person?"
Of course not. You cheered. You clapped. You said, "You did it! You took a step!" You celebrated the partial win because you understood that one step is how you get to two steps, which is how you eventually get to running.
Would you rather your child had just given up and put wheels on for the rest of their life because walking was too hard and too full of failure?
We lose this perspective as adults. The world demands such immediate results from us—at work, in our productivity, in our achievements. By the time middle age hits, we've become real experts in what we do professionally. We're competent. Polished. We know our stuff.
So being bad at something starts to feel alien—like it's unnatural, like there's something wrong with us if we're not good at something right away.
But here's the truth: Being bad at something new is actually the natural world in its full, imperfect glory. It's how everything grows. Trees don't spring up fully formed. Butterflies don't emerge from the cocoon knowing how to fly perfectly. Babies don't walk on the first try.
Growth is messy. Learning is clumsy. And that's not a bug—it's a feature.
Emotional growth works the same way. When someone is learning to be more vulnerable, more accountable, more present—when they're trying to break patterns that have been hardwired for decades—they're going to be bad at it first.
From a Relational Life Therapy perspective, your partner's "wise adult" is trying to show up in new ways. But their "adaptive child"—the protective, reactive part that learned to survive through old patterns—is still there, still loud, still pulling them toward what's familiar.
So what you get is a hybrid: An attempt at something new, wrapped in the packaging of something old.
An apology... with defensiveness attached
Vulnerability... that collapses into blame
Staying present... for a few minutes before shutting down
Asking about your day... in a way that feels stilted and performative
This isn't failure. This is exactly what learning looks like. In fact, I've written before about why apologizing well might be the best imperfect thing you do for your relationship—because imperfection in the attempt is what matters most.
And if you can't see it—if you can only see what's still wrong rather than what's newly right—you're going to miss the most important moments in your relationship's healing.
Two Stories You Can Tell Yourself (And Why One Serves You)
When your spouse messes up while trying to change, you have a choice about which story to tell yourself:
Story #1: "We're Going Backwards—They're Not Really Changing"
"Here we go again. Same old thing. This isn't working. They're not really trying. Nothing's ever going to change. Why am I even bothering?"
This narrative is understandable. Especially if you've been hurt. Especially if you're exhausted. Especially if you've gotten your hopes up before.
But here's the problem: This story kills growth.
When you decide that your partner's clumsy attempt is just "more of the same," you stop encouraging. You stop reinforcing. You might even punish them for trying—with criticism, withdrawal, or defeat.
And then guess what? They stop trying. Because why risk vulnerability, why risk looking foolish, why risk failing at something new when you're just going to be told it doesn't count?
Story #2: "They're Trying Something New—This Is What Growth Looks Like"
"Okay, that was messy. But they tried. They tried to do something different, even if they don't have the skills yet. I can see the partial win here. I can support this."
This narrative requires generosity. It requires you to look underneath the clumsy execution to see the intention. It requires you to recognize that showing up partially is still showing up.
And here's what's powerful: This story creates space for learning.
When you respond to your partner's messy attempt with encouragement instead of criticism—when you say, "I see you trying"—you're inviting them to stay at their growth edge instead of retreating back to safety.
You're saying: "It's okay to be bad at this right now. Keep trying. I'm here."
What Partial Success Actually Looks Like (And Why It Matters)
Let me show you what I mean with real examples:
Example 1: The Apology with a "But"
Your partner hurt you. They're learning about accountability. And they try:
"I'm sorry I said that, but you really pushed my buttons and you know how I get when you bring up my family."
If you focus on what's wrong: "That's not an apology. That's just excuses. You're not really sorry."
If you recognize the partial win: "I appreciate you saying you're sorry. That means something to me. I'm wondering if we can separate the apology from the explanation? I want to hear both, but maybe the 'I'm sorry' first, and then we can talk about what happened for you."
What they did partially right: They said "I'm sorry." For someone who used to just defend and deflect, that's progress. You're not endorsing the "but"—you're recognizing the attempt underneath it while gently coaching toward a cleaner version. (If you want to understand more about why that "but" undermines apologies, I've written about why separating "I'm sorry" from "here's why I did it" matters.)
Example 2: Brief Vulnerability Before Defensiveness
Your partner has always shut down during conflict. Always. But this time, they stay for a few minutes and say:
"You want to know how I feel? I feel like nothing I do is ever good enough for you! Are you happy now?!"
And then they walk away.
If you focus on what's wrong: "Great. More blame. And you still left. Same old story."
If you recognize the partial win: "Hey, you stayed and told me something that was hard to say. I heard 'not good enough' and I want to understand that better. Can we come back to this in a few minutes?"
What they did partially right: They didn't shut down immediately. They expressed a feeling (even if it came out as blame). They lasted longer in the discomfort than usual. That's movement. If you only see the blame and the shutdown, you'll miss that they stretched themselves. Understanding why defensiveness doesn't work can help you see the vulnerability underneath the defensive reaction.
Example 3: The Awkward Bid for Connection
Your partner has been distant for months. You've talked about needing more emotional connection. One night, they put their phone down and say:
"So... how was your day? Did you do anything interesting?"
If you focus on what's wrong: "Really? That's the best you can do? That's so surface-level. You're not really trying to connect."
If you recognize the partial win: "It was good, thanks for asking. Actually, something did happen that I'd love to tell you about..." And then you engage warmly.
What they did partially right: They initiated. They put the phone down. They asked a question. For someone who's been checked out, that's effort. It might be clumsy, but it's a reach. If you punish the reach by withholding or criticizing its inadequacy, you teach them that reaching doesn't pay off.
Why Recognizing Partial Wins Changes Everything
From an Emotionally Focused Therapy perspective, what you're doing when you recognize partial wins is creating a secure base for growth.
Sue Johnson talks about relationships as a safe haven—a place where you can risk, fail, try again, and be met with support rather than punishment. When your partner knows that their clumsy attempts will be met with encouragement rather than harsh criticism, they're more likely to keep trying.
But if every time they try something new, they're met with:
"That's not good enough"
"You're still doing it wrong"
"I don't see any change"
"Why can't you just get this?"
Then their nervous system learns: "It's not safe to try. It's not safe to be imperfect. Better to just go back to what I know."
And growth stops.
Terry Real talks about this in Relational Life Therapy as the difference between cherishing and scorning. Cherishing means you hold your partner's attempts with generosity, even when they're imperfect. Scorning means you dismiss their efforts as inadequate.
You cannot scorn someone into growth. You can only cherish them into it.
Being at Your Growth Edge Means Looking Clumsy
Here's something I want you to really understand:
Growth doesn't happen in the safe zone. It happens right at the edge of your competence—where you're trying something you're not good at yet.
Think about learning to ride a bike. You wobble. You fall. You look ridiculous. That's not failure. That's learning. The same is true for emotional and relational change. When your partner is trying to be more vulnerable, more accountable, more present—they're at their growth edge. And people at their growth edge make mistakes.
Lots of them.
An attempt at vulnerability that comes out as blame? Growth edge.
An apology that includes justification? Growth edge.
Staying in a conversation longer than usual before shutting down? Growth edge.
Asking about your day in a wooden, awkward way? Growth edge.
This is what progress looks like. Not polished. Not perfect. Messy, clumsy, imperfect action.
And if you can't tolerate the messiness—if you need your partner to get it right the first time or it doesn't count—you're going to kill the very growth you're hoping for.
How to Support "Growth Through Imperfect Action"
Here are concrete ways you can support your partner (and yourself) when you're both at your growth edges:
1. Name what you see them trying
"I noticed you stayed in the conversation even though you looked uncomfortable. That took courage."
"I can tell you're working on being more open with me. I appreciate that."
"You caught yourself when you started to shut down. That's progress."
Naming the effort—even when the execution is imperfect—reinforces the attempt.
2. Separate intention from impact
"I can see you were trying to be vulnerable, even though what came out felt more like blame. Can we try again? What were you wanting me to know?"
You're acknowledging that the impact wasn't great while still honoring the intention underneath.
3. Offer a do-over
"That didn't quite land the way I think you meant it. Want to try again? I'm listening."
This gives your partner a chance to practice without shame.
4. Be specific about what would help
"I love that you asked about my day. If you want to go deeper, you could ask something like, 'What was the best part?' or 'What was hard today?' That would help me feel more connected."
You're coaching without criticizing.
5. Celebrate small wins
"You didn't raise your voice even once during that whole conversation. That's huge."
"You told me what you needed instead of expecting me to read your mind. Thank you."
Progress is progress, even when it's small.
6. Focus on what's newly present, not just what's still missing
Instead of: "You still got defensive"
Try: "You stayed vulnerable for longer than last time before the defensiveness kicked in. I saw that."
The shift from "still wrong" to "newly right" changes everything.
But What If They're NOT Really Trying?
I can hear the objection: "But what if they're just making excuses? What if this is avoidance dressed up as effort? How do I know the difference?"
Fair question. Here's how you tell the difference between genuine growth at the edge and avoidance pretending to be effort:
Signs they're genuinely at their growth edge:
There's something noticeably different in their attempt, even if imperfect
They stay engaged when you gently coach or redirect
Over time (weeks, months), you see incremental improvement
They express frustration with their own clumsiness ("I'm trying, I just don't know how to do this yet")
They're willing to keep trying even when it's uncomfortable
Signs they're avoiding:
Every "attempt" looks exactly like the old pattern with slightly different words
They get defensive or shut down when you try to engage
There's no change over time—it's static
They blame you for their inability to change ("I would change if you would just...")
They stop trying when it gets hard
If you're genuinely unsure, that's what therapy is for. A good couples therapist can help you identify whether you're at a growth edge or stuck in avoidance.
And to be clear: Supporting imperfect action is not the same as tolerating harmful behavior. If your partner is regularly cruel, dismissive, or abusive and calling it "trying," that's not imperfect action. That's harm. Don't tolerate it.
The difference is trajectory. Growth moves forward, even messily. Avoidance stays stuck, even when dressed up in the language of effort.
What If You're BOTH at Your Growth Edge?
Here's the beautiful, messy reality: You're probably both at your growth edge at the same time.
You're both learning new ways of communicating, connecting, being vulnerable, taking accountability. You're both going to be clumsy. You're both going to mess up.
Some days you'll be the one who's steady enough to support your partner's messy attempts. Other days, they'll be the one holding space for yours. That's what partnership looks like in the growth zone.
And here's what I want you both to remember when you're stumbling through this together:
Imperfect action is not evidence that you're failing. It's evidence that you're trying.
Mistakes are not the opposite of progress. Mistakes are the price of admission to growth.
You don't get to learn a new way of being without being bad at it first. You don't get to transform old patterns without looking clumsy in the process. And neither does your spouse.
Choose the Story That Creates Space for Growth
So when you see your partner mess up—when they try to be vulnerable but it comes out defensive, when they try to apologize but it's wrapped in justification, when they try to connect but it lands awkwardly—you have a choice.
You can tell yourself, "We're going backwards. This isn't working."
Or you can tell yourself, "They're at their growth edge. They did something partially right. I can support that."
Choose the story that recognizes the partial win, not just the remaining inadequacy.
Choose the story that says, "Keep trying. I see you. We're doing this together."
Because that's the story that gives both of you permission to be imperfect, to be learning, to be human.
And in the end, that's the only story that leads to real change.
Your relationship isn't going backwards. You're both just learning—and learning looks messy.
That's not failure. That's exactly where you're supposed to be.
Need Support While You're Both Learning?
If you and your partner are at your growth edges—trying to change old patterns, learning new ways of being together, stumbling through the messiness of imperfect action—you don't have to do it alone.
I work with couples who are committed to growth using both Emotionally Focused Therapy and Relational Life Therapy. Together, we create a space where imperfect action is celebrated, where partial wins are recognized, and where both of you can practice new ways of relating with support and guidance.
Book a free video consultation and let's talk about how therapy can help you both stay at your growth edge—and support each other through the inevitable stumbles along the way.
You're both trying. That's what matters. Let me help you keep trying together.