Sophie Parienti & Jesse Gabler - Relationship & Communication Coaches

There are moments where I look at my life and I feel deeply grateful for the way my work has unfolded.

Not because it is always easy. It isn’t.

But because being a guide to others has given me something I cherish so much: freedom.

The freedom to work from different places. To meet clients across countries and time zones. To sit by the ocean one day, in a café the next, at my desk another morning, and still be able to enter these very intimate, honest, human conversations with people who are trying to love better, speak more clearly, understand themselves more deeply, or find their way back to each other.

I don’t take that lightly. it means the world to me.

Sometimes I think about how extraordinary it is that someone in another part of the world can open their laptop, sit in their living room, maybe with a cup of tea, maybe after a fight, maybe with tears still close… and somehow we meet there.

In that little square on the screen, where real work happens.

A truth is finally spoken, a pattern becomes visible to them, a person understands why they keep protecting themselves, someone who felt completely alone suddenly feels a little more held, or a couple finds one opening to each other's heart again,

This work has allowed me to travel, yes.

But more than that, it has allowed me to reach people I could never have reached if I had stayed only in one room, in one city, with one kind of life.

And maybe that is what moves me the most. The freedom is beautiful (and essential for me) but the meaning is in the human connection.

The international clients, different cultures, love stories, different ways we all try, sometimes clumsily, to be seen, chosen, heard, understood.

Wherever I am, the work is the same. I show up and I come back to what is human.

And I think that is why I love it so much.

There are conversations where both of you are talking, but somehow nobody is really reaching each other, can you relate?

There are so many words being said.

You explain what you meant. They explain what they believe you meant. You add more details because you don’t feel understood. They add theirs because they don’t feel seen either.

And suddenly, it becomes this whole cloud of words between you.

I call it the "Bla bla bla" syndrome!

Not because what you are saying doesn’t matter. Of course it matters.

But because when both people are protecting themselves, the words stop landing in the way you wish they would.

You may think you are trying to be clear, but underneath you are actually trying to be safe.

Safe from being misunderstood, blamed, being wrong, or feeling alone in what hurt you.

And this is where couples lose each other.

One person is explaining their intention, and the other is still waiting for the impact to be understood.

One person is trying to prove they care, and the other is trying to say, “But I didn’t feel cared for.”

So you keep talking.

More examples, explanations, evidence more "history."

And the real and important sentence you might say gets buried somewhere underneath it all.

Usually, the real sentence is much clearer and powerful in reaching the other.

“I missed you.”
“I felt alone.”
“I wanted to matter to you.”
“I got scared you didn’t understand me.”

That is often the sentence that would changes the entire dynamic of the conversation.

Not the longest explanation.

The authentic and vulnerable one.

Sometimes, in the middle of a conflict, the most real thing you can say is:

“Wait. I think I’m talking a lot, but I haven’t said what really matters to me yet.”

That sentence alone can bring you back to each other.

Remember that the goal is not to be right but to reach the person you love and be understood by them.

Have you ever noticed yourself talking more and more, when what you really wanted was to feel understood?

I love rituals in a relationship. Not the big, impressive ones.

The small ones.

The coffee or tea you drink together in the morning before the day starts asking so many things from you. The little walk after dinner. The way one of us always makes tea and the other one chooses the cups. The message we send when we arrive somewhere. The ten minutes in bed where we talk about everything and nothing before the world comes back in.

Jesse and I have always loved our rituals.

But over the years, I’ve realized that these little rituals are not so little.

They are the places where our relationship breathes.

Because life can become very practical very quickly. You can love each other and still spend most of your time talking about what needs to be done, who needs to call who, what needs to be paid, planned, fixed, organized.

And suddenly, without even noticing, you become very good life and business managers together… but you forget to be lovers, friends, curious companions.

This is why rituals matter. so much to me, and I am a fearless keeper of them

They create a small protected space where you get to come back to each other.

No big performance or dramatic conversation. Just a moment to say, “I still want to meet you here, and i am still curious about YOU”

To me, that is what keeps the connection alive, and not necessarly the long vacation or the big romantic gesture (even though I do like these too!)

It's the repeated little thing.

These are the tiny threads that hold a couple together.

And if you don’t have one yet, maybe start very small.

Five minutes.

One drink.

One question:

“How are we today?”

Because a relationship does not only need love.

It needs places where love can keep showing up.

What is one ritual you and your partner have, even if it seems very simple?

You don’t get mad at the sun for being too hot.

You move into the shade.
You drink water.
You protect your skin.
You understand that the sun is the sun.

But in relationships, when something in us gets triggered, we often do the opposite.

We point at the other person and say, “You made me feel this.”

And of course, sometimes our partner did say something careless. Sometimes they did cross a line. Sometimes something needs to be named clearly.

But very often, the intensity of our reaction is also showing us something about us.

Something old.

A fear.
A wound.
A belief.
A place inside that still feels unsafe.

Your partner may have touched the trigger, but the trigger was already there.

And this is where so many couples get stuck.

One person feels hurt.
The other feels blamed.
Then both start defending.
And nobody gets curious about what actually happened inside.

What if, instead of only asking, “Why did you do that to me?” we also asked:

“Why did this touch me so deeply?”
“What did I suddenly believe was true?”
“What part of me felt threatened?”
“What is mine to understand here?”

That does not mean your partner has no responsibility.

It means you also come back to yourself.

Because the more you understand your own triggers, the less they have to run the whole conversation.

And sometimes, that one moment of self-awareness can change everything.

Have you noticed what your partner most easily triggers in you?

You know those conversations where, on paper, you are communicating?

You are both talking, using proper words, even saying the “right” things.

But somehow, nothing lands.

One of you explains, the other defends. One asks a question, the other hears an attack. One tries to get closer, the other feels pressure and pulls away.

And after twenty minutes, you are exhausted, frustrated, and thinking, “Why can’t we just communicate?”

But communication is not always the real problem.

Safety is.

Because when you don’t feel safe, even a simple sentence can sound like criticism.

“Can we talk?” feels like danger.

“I need something from you” feels like failure.

“You hurt me” feels like accusation.

And suddenly, your body stops listening for love. It is listening for threat.

This is why couples can learn all the “communication tools” and still keep ending up in the same painful place.

Because the body does not care how beautiful your sentence is if it feels like it's about to be blamed, rejected, humiliated, abandoned, or controlled.

So“How do we communicate better?” is not enough.

A deeper question is:

“How do we create enough safety so we can actually hear each other?”

Safety sounds like:

“I’m not here to attack you.”
“I want to understand, not win.”
“We can slow down.”
“Your feelings are not too much for me.”
" Tell me more..."
“I can hear you without making this about my defense.”

This is where real communication begins.

Forget about finding the perfect words.
When the person in front of you feels safe enough to receive them, the connection will happen.

Have you ever noticed that the same words feel completely different depending on how safe you feel with someone?