“Not yet” does not mean “never.”
How a couple navigates conflict by learning when to pause and when to reconnect.
Learning Each Other’s Language
My boyfriend, Lloyd, and I have been together for nearly five years, although our story actually began decades earlier. We first met as children, lost touch, and found each other again in our 50s—through Facebook.
Neither of us came into this relationship untouched.
We both have significant trauma histories. We both know what it feels like when the present suddenly collides with something much older. And because of that, a disagreement between us isn't always just about whatever we're disagreeing about.
Sometimes one of us gets overwhelmed.
Sometimes one of us gets triggered.
Sometimes both of us become overwhelmed and triggered.
Sometimes two people who genuinely love each other suddenly find themselves trying to communicate through layers of fear, shame, hurt, or defensiveness that were there long before they ever met.
So, one of the things we've had to learn is that resolving a conflict doesn't always mean finishing the conversation while we're still in it.
Sometimes one of us reaches a point where there simply isn't enough bandwidth left.
For a long time, I think I unconsciously equated stopping with not resolving the problem. If something was still unsettled, I wanted to keep talking until we reached the other side.
But continuing to talk when one person is already overwhelmed rarely gets you to the other side. It usually just leaves both people more overwhelmed.
We were talking about this recently when I said something that has become increasingly important in our relationship:
De-escalating is not the same as not resolving the issue. It means creating the space to resolve it in a much calmer way.
Lloyd put it even more simply: “It doesn't have to be right now.”
That may sound obvious. It wasn't obvious to me.
Because the key is trust.
If Lloyd says, “I need to stop,” I need to know he isn't saying, “Your feelings don't matter.” He's saying, “I don't have the capacity to do this well right now.”
And when I need to stop, he needs to know I'm not saying, “I refuse to deal with this.”
I'm saying, “Not yet.”
Those are very different messages.
We've also learned that when one person says they've had enough for the moment, the other person has to respect it.
I've pointed out to Lloyd that sometimes I'll say, “Okay,” and he'll keep explaining. And I'm thinking, “I've already said, ‘Okay.’”
He's recognized that tendency, too, and he's been doing it less.
Sometimes part of learning each other's language is learning when enough has already been said.
That's part of this process. Neither one of us gets it right every time. As Lloyd says, “Each time we figure out a little bit more of the language that we need to use to listen to each other.” We're learning as we go.
In fact, during this same conversation, Lloyd described our relationship as a “work in progress.”
So are we.
And we've noticed something encouraging: we're beginning to repair earlier in the cycle. The difficult moments still happen—sometimes they're extraordinarily difficult—but we're getting better at recognizing what's happening, stopping before things escalate further, and finding our way back to each other.
Sometimes love sounds like talking things all the way through.
And sometimes it sounds like:
“I hear you.”
“We can come back to this.”
“Not yet is okay.”
Because “not yet” doesn't have to mean abandonment.
It doesn't have to mean avoidance.
And it doesn't have to mean never.
Sometimes “not yet” is exactly what makes later possible.
This is part of learning each other's language, too.
