I continue to be surprised by how often couples tell me that a previous therapist told them there was “no hope,” that they “shouldn’t be together,” or that the relationship is essentially over. I have a fundamental problem with this. It is not the role of a therapist to decide whether two people should stay together or separate.

It is not the task of the therapist to save relationships, nor to determine their viability. I am not invested in the outcome, and I do not position myself as the one who decides whether staying or leaving is the “right” path. When therapists assume that role, the impact is significant. What might sound like an opinion elsewhere becomes something far more definitive in the therapy room. The words of a therapist carry weight. They do not land as suggestions.

The question of whether to stay or leave is rarely as simple as it appears. In many cases, it becomes part of the interaction itself. It functions as pressure, as a way of forcing clarity, or as an attempt to resolve distress without changing how the relationship actually works. It can also pull the therapist into a position of authority, shifting responsibility away from the couple. At times, it is often an expression of accumulated desperation. All of this needs to be worked with, not answered.

The focus remains on the interaction. The decision on its own does not change the underlying pattern. If anything, pressure around that decision increases intensity beyond what is workable for therapy.

My role is to work on how partners relate. To shift the pattern of interaction. That work requires two people who are willing to engage with the relationship without threat or duress, and to give the process space before making decisions. The outcome is not decided in advance. It emerges from what changes in the interaction over time, and equally from what does not change.

For that work to begin, both partners need to be willing to invest in it. My role is not to persuade in either direction. It is to be explicit about what the work involves and what it requires. It is not something done to the couple. It depends on their participation, in the room and outside it.

This does not mean neutrality in the face of harm. I am explicit about behaviours that are destructive. I challenge abusive or corrosive patterns when they appear. That is a clinical responsibility. It is not the same as deciding whether the relationship should continue.

Couple therapy is not a mechanism for forcing a relationship to survive. It is a structured space to reorganise how partners relate. If both engage, the relationship may shift in ways that make staying together possible. If they do not, separation may emerge. That direction comes from them, not from me.

For the process to work, both partners need to be sufficiently present. The work cannot proceed if one or both are constantly at the door. Couple therapy does not require a decision to stay together, but it does require a commitment to remain in the relationship for the duration of the work.

There are limits to this.

Ongoing affairs undermine the process. Working on a relationship while it is actively being destabilised elsewhere does not work. Similarly, separating while trying to do this work rarely works, because so much of the process depends on what happens between sessions and within the interaction itself.

When therapy begins under threat, with divorce or legal proceedings already in motion, the frame has shifted. The work is no longer about developing the relationship, but about managing its ending.

At that point, the process becomes closer to mediation than therapy. The focus moves to co-parenting, practical arrangements, and reducing harm. It is different work, with a different aim.