I got married the way most people do — in love, optimistic, and almost entirely unprepared for what was actually coming. Not unprepared for the big things. I knew life would have hard moments. I knew marriage took work. I had heard all the right things.
What I was unprepared for were the small things. The invisible patterns. The conversations nobody tells you to have until you are having them under pressure, in a living room at midnight, when both of you are too tired to be kind.
Now that I am training as a Marriage and Family Therapist, I see those patterns every day. And I want to write down a few things I wish someone had told me before I said I do — not to scare anyone, but because knowing these things ahead of time actually helps.
Your family of origin is coming with you
When you get married, you do not just marry a person. You marry the family that shaped them — the rules they grew up with, the way conflict was handled in their house, what love looked like and felt like and sounded like when they were eight years old.
Most people know this in theory. What they do not realize is how automatic it is. You will not even notice yourself doing it. You will just suddenly be reacting to your spouse the way your parent reacted to stress, or withdrawing the way someone in your family always withdrew, or expecting things that nobody ever said out loud but everyone somehow understood.
"The patterns from your family of origin do not disappear when you leave home. They travel with you — and they show up most clearly when you are stressed, scared, or feeling alone."
The work, both in therapy and in marriage, is learning to see those patterns clearly enough to choose something different. That starts with curiosity — about yourself, and about your partner.
You will not always want the same things at the same time
This sounds obvious. But the specific way it plays out is surprising. It is not just about big decisions like where to live or how many kids to have. It is about smaller things — how much togetherness feels right versus how much space you each need, how much emotional processing you want versus how much action, how you each experience intimacy and what makes you feel close.
Most couples assume that if they love each other enough, they will naturally want the same things. And for a while, the early energy of a relationship can mask those differences. But they are always there. And when the initial intensity settles, what you are left with is two actual people with actual differences — and the question of whether you have the tools to navigate them.
Conflict is not the problem — avoidance is
I used to think that fighting meant something was wrong. That a healthy couple was one that did not argue much. I was wrong about this. Gottman research shows clearly that conflict is not what predicts whether a marriage will thrive or fail. What predicts it is how couples handle conflict — specifically, whether they stay connected through it or shut down and pull away.
The couples who avoid all conflict are often the ones in the most trouble. The resentments accumulate quietly. By the time something comes out, there are years of unsaid things underneath it.
Learning to fight well — to stay present, to listen, to repair after things get hard — is one of the most valuable skills a couple can develop before marriage, not after.
The faith question matters more than people think
If you and your partner are in different places with religion or spirituality — even slightly — that difference will likely grow over time, not shrink. Especially if you have children. Especially if one of you changes.
I navigated a faith transition inside a marriage. I know what it feels like when the beliefs that organized your relationship begin to shift for one person. It is not insurmountable. But it is much harder if you have never talked about it honestly — what faith means to each of you, what you need from your partner when things change, what your lines are and what your capacity is.
These conversations are uncomfortable before marriage. They are more uncomfortable after.
You will both change — and that is supposed to happen
The person you marry at 25 or 30 is not the same person you will be living with at 45 or 50. You will both change — your values, your needs, your understanding of yourselves. That is not a sign that something went wrong. It is just life.
The marriages that survive change are the ones where both people have enough differentiation — enough of a stable sense of self — that they can grow without threatening the connection. Where change is something you navigate together, not something that happens to one of you while the other stands still and wonders who they married.
What to actually do with all of this
None of this is meant to be overwhelming. Most of it is just an argument for slowing down before the wedding and having the conversations that matter — not the ones about flowers and guest lists, but the ones about money and faith and conflict and family patterns and what you each actually need to feel loved.
Premarital counseling exists exactly for this. Not because anything is wrong, but because having these conversations with a third person present — someone who can ask the questions you would not think to ask each other — is genuinely useful. I have seen it change the trajectory of relationships.
If you are engaged or seriously considering marriage and want to have some of these conversations, I work with premarital couples in Murray, Utah and via telehealth throughout Utah. The first consultation is free.