When Your Home Feels Like a Tug-of-War (Not a Team)
The truth about alignment, shared goals, and building something that lasts.
Some days, home feels light.
You’re in rhythm, laughing at the same things, solving problems together, actually glad you’re doing life with these people.
Other days?
It feels like everyone’s pulling in a different direction.
You want to slow down; someone else is already onto the next thing.
You’re trying to be consistent with the kids; your spouse responds totally differently and now you both feel undercut.
You’re craving connection; the conversation stays stuck on logistics, schedules, and who forgot what.
You’re thinking big picture; they’re just trying to survive the week.
No one’s trying to wreck anything, but somehow it feels tense, off, heavier than it should.
If you’ve ever thought, “Why does it feel like we’re working against each other instead of with each other?” — you’re not the only one.
That’s our story too.
The Principle That Shifted Our Perspective
Early in our marriage, Wes and I stumbled into a simple idea that’s shaped the way we do life: we are on the same team.
At the time, we said it out loud a lot.
It was our way of interrupting arguments and reminding ourselves:
We’re not opponents trying to win. We’re teammates trying to build the same thing.
Over time, that phrase has become less of a slogan and more of a foundation.
Now the question beneath almost everything we navigate is this:
What are we actually trying to win here?
Because that’s what teams do: they know what they’re playing for.
A team without a clear goal starts competing with itself.
A home without a clear goal does the same thing.
And for us, we notice: our tension doesn’t usually come from wanting different outcomes. Strangely, we often want the same thing.
The conflict shows up when:
we haven’t clearly defined the goal,
or we haven’t said it out loud to each other,
or we’re both assuming we know and quietly resenting that the other person doesn’t “get it.”
So instead of feeling united, we feel like we’re tugging on opposite ends of the same rope.
How We Know We’ve Drifted
We can feel it when we stop functioning like a team.
It looks like:
Assuming the worst instead of giving the benefit of the doubt.
Taking everything personally.
Talking logistics only—never life, never heart.
Moving into survival mode and checklist mode.
Missing the small wins because we’re fixated on what’s wrong.
On those days, we’re still doing the tasks of life… but not really building anything together.
And that—more than the noise or the schedule—is the real red flag:
We’ve lost intentionality.
Not forever. Not dramatically. Just slowly, quietly, subtly.
Which means it’s time to reset.
How We Reset: Intention Over Assumption
Our way forward isn’t fancy or profound. It’s very ordinary and very deliberate.
Here’s what helps us realign when home starts to feel like a tug-of-war:
1. We define the win.
Not “in theory,” but in sentences.
What’s the goal in this situation?
What are we trying to protect?
What are we trying to build—for our marriage, our kids, our home?
When we say it out loud, we almost always realize:
“Oh. We actually want the same thing. We’re just coming at it differently.”
Clarity softens the room.
2. We talk instead of assume.
Not a three-hour summit meeting. Just honest, present conversation.
“This is what I was hoping for.”
“This is what I was afraid of.”
“This is what I meant.”
We don’t always do this perfectly. Sometimes we do it tired and clumsy. But speaking it is better than silently stewing.
3. We choose grace (on purpose).
We try—imperfectly—to:
offer the benefit of the doubt,
apologize when we’re sharp or unfair,
remember the other person is not the enemy.
That sounds basic until you’re both exhausted and annoyed. Then it’s spiritual warfare.
4. We celebrate each other.
This one is huge for us.
We try to notice and say:
“I see how hard you’re working.”
“Thank you for handling that.”
“I’m proud of you for doing that hard thing.”
Not because we’ve nailed it, but because we need it.
Celebration pulls us out of scorekeeping and back into partnership.
5. We stay connected in the ordinary.
For us that looks like simple but intentional things:
Eating together regularly.
Finding ways to laugh together.
Working on real things side by side.
Talking about life and God in normal, not-staged ways.
Not as rules. As ways of saying: we’re in this together.
The Long Game: What Are We Building?
Underneath all of this is a bigger question Wes and I keep circling back to:
What kind of home are we trying to build—on purpose?
That question shapes how we show up today:
when to push, when to pause, when to sacrifice comfort now for something better later.
It doesn’t mean we’ve arrived. We absolutely have days where we forget all of this and default to frustration, hurry, or silence.
But we don’t want to just coexist in the same space.
We want to co-build the kind of life our future selves—and our kids—will be thankful for.
That requires alignment.
And alignment requires clarity.
An Invitation for You
If your home has felt like a tug-of-war lately, this isn’t a condemnation; it’s a cue.
You don’t have to overhaul everything.
Start here:
Name one area that feels tense or disconnected.
Ask together: “What are we actually trying to build here?”
Define one small win you can pursue on the same team this week.
Not ten. One.
Because the moment you both start pulling in the same direction—even a little—you’ve already shifted the story.
You’re not stuck on opposite sides.
You’re allowed to put the rope down, look at each other, and remember:
You’re on the same team.
Now decide, together, what you’re going to build.
