There was a season in our marriage when we kept having the same fight.
Not about anything significant—just small, irritable exchanges that left both of us feeling misunderstood and defensive.
I’d snap at Aurielle over something trivial. She’d respond with frustration that felt disproportionate. We’d both walk away wondering why everything felt so hard.
For a while, we thought the problem was us—that maybe we’d lost our rhythm or our patience or our ability to navigate conflict well.
But then we took an honest inventory of our lives, and the real culprit became obvious: we had zero margin. Every day was packed from the moment we woke up until we collapsed into bed.
Our calendars were full, our bodies were tired, and our emotional reserves were running on fumes.
Here’s what we learned that shifted everything: our marriage wasn’t broken. We were depleted.
And depletion makes everything feel relational when it’s actually circumstantial.
When you’re running on empty, a forgotten errand feels like neglect. A distracted “uh-huh” feels like indifference. A reasonable request feels like one more demand you can’t meet.
The problem isn’t your spouse—it’s that you don’t have the bandwidth to show up the way you want to.
We used to think margin was something you created after you took care of everything else, like a luxury you earned.
Now we understand that margin is the foundation that makes everything else possible. It’s not what’s left over after life—it’s what protects your capacity to live well, and to love well.
When we protect our margin, our marriage doesn’t have to work as hard.
Jesus regularly withdrew to solitary places—not because He was weak, but because He understood that sustainable ministry (and life) requires replenishment. If the Son of God needed rest and margin, we certainly do too.What’s Still True
Low margin makes normal moments feel relationally heavy.