When Someone You Love Says You Hurt Them:
Part 1: Understanding Rupture in Relationships
I had the opportunity to visit with an old friend recently, which was lovely. A few days after the trip, however, she sent me a text:
"Hey, when you get a chance can we catch up? There were some things that came up that I had a hard time with when we were hanging out and I wanted to talk about it."
My immediate response: My stomach sank. Dread washed over me. I did something wrong. I'm bad. Shame.
What Was Happening in My Nervous System
That visceral reaction, the sinking stomach, the flood of dread, wasn't just emotional. It was neurobiological.
When we perceive a threat to a valued relationship, our autonomic nervous system activates what neuroscientist Stephen Porges calls the "threat response." My friend's text triggered my amygdala, the brain's alarm system, which immediately scanned for danger: Am I about to be rejected? Abandoned? Confirmed as the bad person I secretly fear I am?
This is the same physiological response our ancestors experienced when facing actual physical threats. Except instead of a predator, the "danger" was the potential loss of connection, which, for social creatures like humans, registers as a survival threat.
In that moment, my body was flooded with cortisol and adrenaline. My prefrontal cortex, the part of my brain responsible for rational thought and perspective-taking, went partially offline. This is why our first reaction to perceived criticism is rarely our most thoughtful one.
The Pause That Changed Everything
But here's what was different this time: I know myself well enough now to give myself a little time to reflect before arriving at catastrophic conclusions.
I paused. I let my nervous system settle. I looked back at the weekend, everything we had talked about, the moments we shared. Was there some way I might have offended her? Was there something I said or did that was less kind or generous than I could have been?
No, I decided. I felt like we had a great weekend.
Although I was still feeling some anxiety and concern, I also noticed a new feeling: solidness. Trust in myself. Whatever I had done inadvertently to provoke a reaction did not make me a bad person.
“The capacity to self regulate is what makes repair possible.”
This capacity to self-regulate, to notice my threat response without being completely hijacked by it, is what made repair possible. Years ago, I would have stayed in that activated state, and everything that followed would have come from a place of self-protection rather than curiosity.
We set up a time to talk.
The Conversation: Two Realities, One Interaction
In our phone call, my friend shared specific moments from our weekend, certain comments I'd made, things I hadn't said, body language she'd noticed, that left her feeling judged, criticized, and shamed. She was angry about a careless statement I'd made regarding a conflict she was navigating. She was hurt that I seemed to see things from the other person's perspective instead of hers. She was sad that we were in such different places in our lives that I would judge her.
But none of that matched my internal experience.
I was genuinely surprised. I hadn't felt any negative or superior feelings toward her. When she'd told me about her conflict, what I actually felt was empathetic and protective. I was happy to listen and show support, and when she seemed to not have much more to say, I respected her privacy and didn't pry.
So how could two people walk away from the same conversation feeling so differently? And whose version was correct?
The Psychology of Perspective-Taking
Here's the thing: we were both correct because we were each living our own experience of the conversation.
Psychologists call this perspective-taking, the cognitive capacity to understand that another person's experience of reality can be fundamentally different from our own. What happened between my friend and me happens in relationships constantly: Two people participate in the exact same interaction and walk away with completely different narratives about what it meant.
I really had no ill or condescending thoughts toward my friend. When I reflected back on what she was saying, in my mind I was joining her in her upset, showing solidarity.
But she experienced something entirely different. My tone, my body language, perhaps the specific words I chose, all of it landed for her as judgment. Her nervous system registered criticism where I had intended support. She felt triggered, and it activated old patterns, stories she'd internalized long before I came into the picture.
“ We are not mad at our partners. We are hurt and scared about being disconnected from them.”
As Sue Johnson, founder of Emotionally Focused Therapy, writes: "We are not mad at our partners. We are hurt and scared about being disconnected from them." My friend wasn't angry at me for being a bad friend, she was hurt and scared that maybe I didn't see her, didn't value her, didn't understand her struggles.
Understanding Rupture
What we experienced is what relational therapists call a rupture, a moment when the sense of connection and attunement between two people breaks down.
Here's what's important to understand: All relationships, even the healthiest ones, experience ruptures. In fact, research by the Gottmans shows that even in happy marriages, 69% of conflicts are perpetual and never fully resolved. What distinguishes thriving relationships from struggling ones isn't the absence of rupture, but the presence of repair.
A rupture happens when:
One or both people feel misunderstood
There's a perceived threat to the relationship
Intentions and impact don't align
Old wounds get activated in present interactions
My friend and I had experienced all of these. I hadn't intended to hurt her, but my impact did. She felt misunderstood and unseen. Her history with criticism made her particularly sensitive to perceived judgment, even when none was intended.
And this is where attachment theory becomes relevant.
Attachment Patterns in Adult Friendships
Most people think of attachment theory in the context of romantic relationships or parent-child bonds, but our attachment patterns show up in all our close relationships, including friendships.
My friend's reaction to our conversation likely had roots in her early attachment experiences. If she grew up in an environment where she felt criticized or where her emotions were invalidated, her nervous system learned to be hypervigilant for signs of judgment. Even neutral or supportive responses can get filtered through that lens and interpreted as threats.
This isn't about blame, it's about understanding. We all carry attachment wounds. We all have sensitivities that make certain interactions feel more threatening than they objectively are.
What matters is whether we can recognize when we're having an old reaction to a new situation, and whether the people in our lives can hold space for that without becoming defensive.
In Part 2, I'll share what happened in our repair conversation and what made it different from how this would have played out years ago. We'll explore affect tolerance, the difference between self-regulation and co-regulation, and what allows some relationships to navigate rupture successfully while others get stuck.