Why I Love Discernment Counseling: The Science, the Questions, and the Space Before Divorce
I am going to admit something right up front: I am a total nerd about relationships. I have spent much of my professional life studying how people attach, how couples become disconnected, how families organize themselves around conflict, why we repeat patterns even when they aren't working, and what creates lasting change.
I want to know why.
Why do we pursue someone who is pulling away?
Why do we withdraw from the person we most want to feel close to?
Why do we become critical when underneath the criticism we are frightened?
Why do we stop saying what we need and then become resentful that our partner doesn't understand us?
Why do intelligent, loving people repeat the same painful interaction hundreds of times while both insist that the other person is causing it?
And maybe most importantly: when a relationship has reached the brink, how do we know whether it is truly over, or whether the relationship as it has existed needs to end so that something different can begin?
That is why I love discernment counseling.
It is one of the most thoughtful approaches I know for couples who have reached that terrible in-between place where one partner is leaning toward divorce and the other desperately wants to save the relationship. William Doherty and his colleagues call these mixed-agenda couples. I call them some of the most complicated, heartbreaking, and fascinating couples I work with, because they aren't really coming to therapy with the same question.
One person is asking: "How do we save this?"
The other is asking: "Do I even want to?"
And that changes everything.
Couples Therapy Isn't Always the Right First Step
Traditional couples therapy generally begins with an important assumption: both people have agreed, at least provisionally, that they want to work on the relationship. That assumption doesn't exist with a mixed-agenda couple.
The leaning-in partner may be sitting in my office thinking: "Please help me save my marriage."
The leaning-out partner may be thinking: "I'm here because my spouse asked me to come, but I'm not sure there is anything left to save."
If I immediately launch into traditional couples therapy, I am asking two people to work toward a goal they haven't agreed upon. This is one of the things I find so intelligent about Doherty's model.
Discernment counseling does not begin by trying to fix the marriage. It begins by trying to understand it.
The clinical goal is clarity and confidence about the direction of the relationship, informed by a deeper understanding of what happened and what each person contributed to getting here. That is a fundamentally different task. And I love it.
This Is My Version of a Last-Ditch Effort
I sometimes describe discernment counseling as a last-ditch effort. I don't mean that dramatically, and I certainly don't mean that every marriage should be saved. Some relationships need to end. Sometimes abuse, coercion, ongoing deception, repeated betrayal, untreated addiction, or an unwillingness to participate in meaningful change fundamentally alters what is possible.
But when there is genuine uncertainty, I believe there is enormous value in slowing down before making an irreversible decision.
Not six months.
Not endless therapy.
Not convincing anyone to stay.
Discernment counseling is intentionally brief. The original model was designed for approximately one to five sessions, with significant individual conversation with each partner. That structure is part of what makes it so effective clinically for ambivalence.
I am not asking the leaning-out partner, "Will you recommit to your marriage?" I am asking, "Are you willing to understand what happened before you decide what happens next?" Those are profoundly different questions.
There Are Three Paths, and I Am Not Attached to Which One You Choose
Discernment counseling organizes the decision around three potential directions.
Path One: Maintain the status quo for now.
Path Two: Move toward separation or divorce.
Path Three: Make a serious, time-limited effort to restore the relationship through couples therapy, traditionally conceptualized as approximately six months, with divorce off the table during that period and with each person bringing a personal agenda for change.
I love Path Three. I really do. But not because I believe everyone should choose it. I love it because it answers a question couples may otherwise carry for years: what would happen if we tried, not just to change each other, but to change ourselves and the relationship we have created together? That is a much more interesting question.
"We've Tried Everything" Is One of My Favorite Sentences
Couples frequently tell me, "We've tried everything." The relationship nerd in me immediately becomes curious. Tell me what "everything" means.
Sometimes they have been struggling for ten years. They have:
Argued.
Stopped arguing.
Threatened divorce.
Taken vacations.
Had more sex.
Stopped having sex.
Read books.
Made promises.
Separated bedrooms.
Separated houses.
Come back together.
Gone to couples therapy.
Stopped couples therapy.
Repeated the same conversation hundreds of times.
That is a tremendous amount of suffering. But it isn't necessarily the same thing as structured relational change.
Sometimes a couple has spent years trying incredibly hard while essentially repeating different versions of the same attachment cycle:
The pursuing partner pursues harder because they are terrified of losing the relationship.
The withdrawing partner withdraws further because the pursuit feels overwhelming.
The increased withdrawal terrifies the pursuer.
The increased pursuit overwhelms the withdrawer.
Both become increasingly convinced, "See? My partner is the problem." And around we go.
This is where my attachment and family-systems brain becomes very interested. Because instead of asking who started it, I want to know: what is the system doing?
The Question That Changes Everything: What Is My Part?
One of the most powerful elements of Doherty's model is its emphasis on understanding each person's contribution to the deterioration of the relationship. I think this may be one of the most important questions we can ask in intimate relationships. And it is not the same thing as blame.
Relationships are not 50/50 mathematical equations. If someone has an affair, the responsibility for having the affair belongs to the person who made that choice. If someone behaves abusively, responsibility for that behavior belongs to them. Understanding a relational system should never be used to distribute responsibility for harmful behavior to the person who was harmed.
But there is a broader question: who have I been inside this relationship?
That question takes courage, because most of us become extraordinary experts on our partners. We can describe precisely:
How they withdraw.
How they criticize.
How they become defensive.
How they avoid.
How they control.
How they don't listen.
How they don't initiate.
How they don't appreciate us.
How they don't understand us.
It is much harder to turn the lens around:
What do I do?
Why do I do it?
What happens inside me right before I do it?
What am I protecting?
What am I afraid would happen if I responded differently?
And where did I learn to protect myself this way?
Now we are doing work I find fascinating.
Our Patterns Usually Make Sense
This is where attachment theory and family systems become incredibly useful. We don't develop our ways of relating in a vacuum. We learn about closeness, independence, vulnerability, conflict, trust, emotion, repair, and safety through relationships.
Some learned to pursue connection when they sensed someone moving away.
Some learned to withdraw.
Some learned to become indispensable.
Some learned not to need anyone.
Some learned to become louder when they didn't feel heard.
Some learned that being quiet was safer.
Some learned to keep everyone happy.
Some learned that vulnerability gave another person too much power.
Some learned that conflict meant abandonment.
Some learned that conflict was simply how people loved each other.
And many of those strategies once made complete sense. But here is the problem: what protected us once can become what disconnects us now.
That is why I care so much about understanding why we do what we do. Not because explanation excuses behavior. It doesn't. Our history can explain our patterns without excusing them. But if we understand the pattern, we finally have somewhere to intervene.
Insight Isn't Change
This is another place where I get a little nerdy. I love insight. But insight alone does not change relationships.
Someone can say, "I know I withdraw because vulnerability scares me." Wonderful. Now what happens the next time your partner reaches for you?
Someone can understand, "I become critical when I feel abandoned." Important. Now can you express the fear instead of attacking?
Someone can understand, "I avoid conflict because conflict frightened me growing up." That matters. Now can you remain emotionally present during a difficult conversation?
Someone can understand exactly why they made a harmful decision, and they still have to take responsibility for making it. Insight gives us awareness. Change requires choice. That is the part I care about. What are you going to choose differently now that you understand yourself?
"I'm Done" Doesn't Always Mean the Same Thing
Years of working with distressed couples have taught me to listen very carefully when someone says, "I'm done." Sometimes it means exactly that, and we need to respect it.
But sometimes "I'm done with this marriage" means "I cannot continue living in this version of our marriage." Those are not necessarily the same statement.
A person may not want to return to the relationship they had. Frankly, I may not want them to return to it either. If the relationship was characterized by chronic disconnection, loneliness, criticism, avoidance, resentment, betrayal, or years of unresolved attachment injuries, recreating it would hardly be a treatment goal.
The more interesting question is: could the two of you create a relationship
that has never existed between you before?
That is where a little space sometimes opens. Not a promise. Not reconciliation. Just: maybe. And in discernment counseling, maybe matters.
The Science of Ambivalence Is Fascinating
This is another reason I became so interested in Doherty's work. We tend to think of divorce as a binary decision: married, divorcing, therefore decided. But human beings aren't nearly that tidy.
In research by Doherty, Willoughby, and Peterson involving 2,484 divorcing parents, about one in four individual parents reported some belief that their marriage could still be saved with hard work, and approximately three in ten expressed potential interest in reconciliation services. These weren't couples casually wondering whether their relationship was working. They were already in the divorce process. That fascinates me.
It tells us that taking legal steps toward divorce and being psychologically certain about divorce are not always the same thing.
Doherty's later work examining 100 consecutive discernment counseling cases found that approximately half chose the path of couples therapy aimed at reconciliation, while most of the remainder chose divorce.
That finding needs to be interpreted carefully. It does not mean discernment counseling "saved half the marriages." Choosing couples therapy is not the same as ultimately remaining married, and this was a clinical case series rather than a randomized controlled trial.
But it tells us something clinically meaningful: some people who arrive seriously considering divorce become willing, after a structured discernment process, to find out whether the relationship can change. And others become clearer that divorce is their path. Both outcomes matter, because reconciliation isn't the measure of success. Clarity is.
I Don't Want to Convince Anyone to Stay Married
This is extremely important to me. I am not secretly working for the leaning-in spouse. I am not trying to persuade the leaning-out partner that they are making a mistake. And I am not opposed to divorce. My job is much more interesting than that. My job is to protect the thinking process.
The leaning-out partner needs room to say:
I am exhausted.
I have been lonely for years.
I don't know if my feelings can come back.
I don't know if I have another attempt in me.
And the leaning-in partner needs room to say:
I didn't understand how bad this had become.
I finally see what I've been doing.
I am willing to change.
I don't want this to end without knowing whether change was possible.
Neither person should have to pretend.
And I Don't Want Fear to Make the Decision Either
Divorce is not simply a legal event. It is a major relational, psychological, financial, social, and often parenting transition. That doesn't mean divorce is inherently unhealthy. In fact, leaving a chronically harmful or unsafe relationship may be enormously important for someone's well-being.
But the research on divorce and health is nuanced enough that I think we should take the transition seriously.
A 2024 meta-analysis synthesized 94 studies involving more than 1.38 million participants. Divorced adults, compared with married adults, reported somewhat poorer health and more physical symptoms and showed elevated risk for several specific health conditions. Importantly, when researchers aggregated physical pathologies overall, the difference was not statistically significant.
I think that nuance matters. I would never tell someone, "Stay married because divorce is bad for your health." That isn't what the science says, and it isn't how I practice.
What the research reinforces for me is simply this: divorce is a significant life transition. If you are uncertain about it, your uncertainty deserves thoughtful attention.
The Question After Divorce: "Did We Really Do Everything?"
There is also a question I don't want people carrying unnecessarily years later: did we really do everything we could?
I want to be careful with the idea of "divorce regret." Grief is not necessarily regret. Someone can know with great clarity that divorce was the right decision and still grieve the loss of a marriage. They may miss:
Their former spouse.
Their house.
Their family traditions.
Seeing their children every day.
Their in-laws.
Their financial stability.
The future they once imagined.
They can grieve all of that and still know: ending the marriage was right for me.
What concerns me more is unresolved ambivalence:
What if we had really tried?
What if I had understood my part earlier?
What if we had stopped trying to change each other and changed ourselves?
What if we had gotten the right kind of help?
What if I wasn't finished with my marriage, I was finished with the way we were living in it?
Those are much harder questions to investigate after the marriage has ended. Discernment counseling gives us a place to ask them beforehand.
"Did We Do Everything?" Doesn't Mean "Did We Stay at Any Cost?"
This distinction is essential. Doing everything does not mean:
Tolerating abuse.
Accepting repeated betrayal.
Remaining indefinitely with someone who refuses accountability.
Sacrificing yourself to prove that you valued your marriage.
It means something much more grounded:
Did I understand what happened?
Did I understand myself?
Did I understand my contribution?
Did I understand my partner's experience?
Did we determine whether meaningful change was possible?
And am I making this decision with clarity rather than simply trying to escape intolerable pain?
Sometimes the answers to those questions lead directly to divorce. And that can be clarity too.
Why Path Three Gives Me So Much Hope
Then there is Path Three. This is the path that makes the relationship nerd in me light up a little. Not because it guarantees anything. It doesn't.
Path Three says, essentially: before we end this marriage, we are willing to find out what happens if we genuinely change it. Not forever. Not "promise me you'll never leave." A defined period of serious couples therapy, traditionally framed as approximately six months, with divorce off the table during that effort and with each partner bringing a personal agenda for change.
That last part is everything. Not: here is what my spouse needs to fix. But: here is what I am going to work on in me. Now we have something to work with.
If We Choose to Try, Then We Really Try
Once a couple chooses Path Three, the work changes. Now we can move from discernment into actual couples therapy. This is where my attachment-based work becomes particularly important. I want to understand the cycle that has organized the relationship:
Who reaches? Who withdraws?
What happens when connection feels threatened?
What attachment injuries remain unresolved?
Where did emotional safety disappear?
Where did resentment replace vulnerability?
Where did the couple stop turning toward one another?
If there has been betrayal, what needs to happen for accountability and safety to be restored?
If emotional intimacy disappeared, what made reaching for one another unsafe?
And underneath all of it: what does each person need in order to feel securely connected to the other?
For couples who choose reconciliation, I often draw heavily from Emotionally Focused Therapy (EFT), because changing the surface argument isn't enough. We need to change the emotional experience underneath it.
Sometimes the Most Important Change Happens in One Person
There is something else I deeply appreciate about discernment work. The marriage doesn't have to survive for the work to matter, because each person leaves with themselves. That sounds obvious, but I think we forget it.
We can leave a relationship believing, "I chose the wrong person." Sometimes that is part of the story. But if I never examine my own attachment patterns, defenses, communication, boundaries, emotional availability, expectations, choices, and responses to stress, I can enter another relationship with a different person and eventually recreate something painfully familiar. Changing partners does not automatically change patterns. We take ourselves with us.
So whether you ultimately remain married or divorce, I want you asking:
Who do I want to be in intimate relationships?
What do I do when I'm afraid?
What do I do when I feel rejected?
Can I tolerate vulnerability?
Can I communicate a need without attacking?
Can I hear someone's pain without immediately defending myself?
Can I remain present when I want to run?
Can I take responsibility without collapsing into shame?
Can I recognize when an old protective strategy is damaging a current relationship?
And when I see myself clearly: am I willing to choose something different? That is meaningful work regardless of marital outcome.
The Moment I Love Most
There is a moment I sometimes get to witness in discernment counseling that is difficult to describe. A couple arrives polarized. One person has a list of everything their spouse has done wrong. The other has another list. They are both looking across the room at the problem.
And then someone stops. They see something about themselves. Not performatively, not "Fine, I guess I'm partly to blame." Something real. They say:
"I can see what I did."
"I never understood what happened to you when I withdrew."
"I thought I was protecting myself, but I can see how alone you must have felt."
"I need to change this whether we stay married or not."
And the room changes. Sometimes only slightly, but after doing this work for years, I can feel it. Defensiveness softens. Certainty becomes curiosity. There is a little more space between stimulus and response.
And occasionally two people who arrived asking, "Should we get divorced?" begin asking a different question: "What would happen if we did this differently?" I love that moment.
Why I Love Discernment Counseling
I love discernment counseling because it is respectful of the magnitude of the decision without being afraid of divorce.
It respects marriage without romanticizing it.
It respects the person who desperately wants to stay.
It respects the person who thinks they may need to leave.
It understands ambivalence rather than treating it as pathology.
It asks people to examine themselves rather than simply prosecute the case against their partner.
It distinguishes explanation from excuse.
It distinguishes insight from change.
It distinguishes grief from regret.
And most importantly, it gives couples something that is extraordinarily difficult to find when a marriage is collapsing: space to think.
When a marriage is on the brink, everyone has an opinion:
Friends say leave.
Parents say stay.
Someone says fight for your family.
Someone else says life is too short.
Attorneys understandably begin addressing the legal realities.
Children may be frightened.
Both partners are flooded.
Discernment counseling quiets that noise for a little while. We slow everything down. And we ask:
What happened here?
What is mine? What is yours?
What can change? What cannot?
And knowing all of that, what direction do we want to choose?
That is why I love this work. Not because I believe every marriage should be saved. I don't. I love it because I believe people deserve the opportunity to make enormous decisions with as much clarity, self-awareness, accountability, and confidence as possible.
Sometimes that clarity says: we need to divorce. Sometimes it says: we need more time. And sometimes it says: before we walk away, we want to know what happens if we truly try.
That last one is my version of the last-ditch effort. Not desperation. Not fear. Not staying together at all costs. A deliberate choice to become curious about ourselves, take responsibility for what belongs to us, understand why we do what we do, and find out whether two people are capable of creating something different together.
After years of studying relationships and sitting with couples at this exact crossroads, I have learned something I still find remarkable: sometimes "the marriage is over" and "this version of our marriage is over" are not the same thing.
And when there is still a genuine maybe, I believe that maybe deserves to be understood.
That is the science. That is the clinical work. And yes, that is exactly why I am such a nerd about discernment counseling.
References
Doherty, W. J., Harris, S. M., & Wilde, J. L. (2016). Discernment counseling for "mixed-agenda" couples. Journal of Marital and Family Therapy, 42(2), 246–255. https://doi.org/10.1111/jmft.12132
Doherty, W. J., Willoughby, B. J., & Peterson, B. (2011). Interest in marital reconciliation among divorcing parents. Family Court Review, 49(2), 313–321. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1744-1617.2011.01373.x
Pellón-Elexpuru, I., Van Dijk, R., Van der Valk, I., Martínez-Pampliega, A., Molleda, A., & Cormenzana, S. (2024). Divorce and physical health: A three-level meta-analysis. Social Science & Medicine, 352, 117005. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.socscimed.2024.117005
Sbarra, D. A. (2015). Divorce and health: Current trends and future directions. Psychosomatic Medicine, 77(3), 227–236. https://doi.org/10.1097/PSY.0000000000000168
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