Curiosity Instead of Anger: A Love Letter to Disagreement
Disagreements in any relationship—especially one built on profound trust and love—are inevitable. They are moments where our perspectives collide, our vulnerabilities are exposed, and our most deeply held needs come into focus. These moments are also crossroads: we can choose anger, or we can choose curiosity.
Anger is easy. It’s the brain’s primal fight-or-flight reflex, ready to protect us from what feels like a threat. It surges up when we feel misunderstood, invalidated, or unimportant. Anger demands to be seen. It’s loud, reactive, and sometimes even righteous. But anger, especially in the context of someone you deeply love, often acts as a smokescreen—masking what’s really at stake. Behind anger, there’s usually a tender, frightened truth: “Do you see me? Do I matter to you right now? Are we still safe?”
Curiosity, on the other hand, is quiet but profoundly brave. It takes intentionality to turn toward curiosity when your defenses are screaming for a fight. Yet curiosity has the power to transform a disagreement into an opportunity—not for winning, but for understanding. Curiosity whispers: “What’s happening for you right now? What don’t I know yet? What am I missing?”
A Real-Life Example: Seeing Beyond the Surface
Not long ago, my partner Wyatt and I found ourselves on opposite sides of an unexpected disagreement. We were discussing a complex situation involving a public figure—a celebrity entangled in a messy conflict with another person. Wyatt expressed what I saw as a disproportionate amount of empathy for one party, and I couldn’t understand why. From my perspective, both parties seemed equally at fault. The more he dug into his stance, the more frustrated I felt. I began questioning his judgment: “Why is he defending them so strongly? Why is he being unfair?”
What I didn’t realize—until I slowed down and leaned into curiosity—was that Wyatt wasn’t just empathizing with the celebrity in question. That person reminded him of a dear friend, someone he cared about deeply, whose experiences mirrored the celebrity’s struggles. His empathy wasn’t disproportionate; it was personal. I wouldn’t have known this if I’d stayed in bewildered indignation. By pausing and asking questions—not accusing or defending—I uncovered the deeper story beneath his reaction.
This doesn’t mean my frustration was invalid or that his perspective was automatically “right.” What it does mean is that the disagreement wasn’t just about the celebrity—it was about Wyatt’s emotional connection to someone he values, and his need to express that empathy. Without curiosity, I would have missed that entirely.
Curiosity Doesn’t Excuse Harm—It Illuminates It
Curiosity doesn’t mean excusing harmful behavior or dismissing your own feelings. It’s not about avoiding accountability or refusing to set boundaries. What it does mean is treating anger not as the enemy but as a signal—an indicator that something important is happening under the surface. Anger often points to unmet needs or hidden fears, both yours and your partner’s. Curiosity asks, “What is this anger trying to show me?”
For instance, in that disagreement with Wyatt, my frustration wasn’t just about the debate itself. It was about feeling unheard and confused, about wanting to trust his reasoning but feeling like I couldn’t yet connect to it. By staying curious, I found clarity—not just about him, but about myself.
Why Curiosity Matters
Curiosity assumes good intent, even when your partner’s behavior doesn’t immediately make sense. It acknowledges that you’re on the same team, even when it feels like you’re at odds. In the space where anger might flare, curiosity softens the edges. It invites dialogue instead of defensiveness.
This shift isn’t about suppressing anger or invalidating your emotions. It’s about giving yourself and your partner the gift of space—space to explore what’s under the surface. It’s about trusting that the person across from you, the one you’ve chosen to share your life with, is still your ally, even when you can’t see it in the moment.
When Trust Feels Fragile
Curiosity thrives in a foundation of trust, but not every disagreement happens in those conditions. If trust is frayed or harm has occurred, curiosity might feel impossible—or even unsafe. In these situations, your priority is not to bypass anger but to honor it as a boundary-setting tool. Curiosity can be a powerful practice, but only when it is paired with the assurance that your needs and safety are being respected.
Practicing Curiosity
When you feel the heat of anger rising, try asking yourself:
“Why might they be reacting this way?”
“What fears, needs, or wounds might they be holding that I haven’t seen yet?”
“What am I feeling that I haven’t expressed clearly?”
“How can I lean in with love instead of pulling back in frustration?”
This kind of curiosity requires vulnerability. It asks you to set aside your armor and meet your partner with your softest self. It asks you to listen more than you talk, to hear what’s being said underneath the words. And it’s hard—especially when your nervous system is screaming at you to protect yourself. But it’s also a gift you can give to both yourself and your relationship.
Choosing Connection
When you choose curiosity, you choose to see your partner not as the villain in the moment, but as the complex, imperfect, deeply human person you love. You choose to believe that their actions, even the ones that hurt, are rooted in their own fears and needs, not a desire to harm you. You choose connection over control, collaboration over blame.
So when you’re next at that crossroads, take a breath. Ask yourself: “What don’t I know yet?” And remember: this person is not your opponent. They are your partner. In that shared space, there is so much room for growth, healing, and love.