There is a particular kind of silence that shows up in relationships long before anyone utters the words 'I'm done.'
It's not the quiet after an argument or the companionable calm of two people who know each other well. It's the silence of emotional withdrawal, the slow erosion of effort and curiosity, the absence of bids for connection that once came naturally.
As a couples therapist, I've been watching this phenomenon unfold for years, and now it finally has a name: quiet quitting.
The term first gained traction in workplace culture, describing employees who stop going above and beyond and instead do only the minimum of what's required, remaining physically present while emotionally checked out.
That same dynamic has long existed in our most intimate relationships too. People stay married, partnered, or committed, but they're no longer emotionally invested. They're still there in form, but not in substance.
What makes this phenomenon especially important right now is how common it has become.
While overall divorce rates in the United States have declined since their peak in the 1980s, divorce among adults aged 50 and older, known as 'gray divorce,' has risen dramatically.
According to research from Bowling Green State University's National Center for Family and Marriage Research, the gray divorce rate roughly doubled between 1990 and 2010, even as divorce rates among younger couples fell.
Today, roughly one in four divorces involves adults over 50.
Women appear to be driving much of this trend.
A 2023 study by the AARP found that more than two-thirds of divorces are initiated by women.
The same study also found that more than 25 percent of men reported feeling blindsided by their spouse's decision, which suggests a correlation with quiet quitting.
In my clinical practice, I see far more women than men quiet quitting relationships, whether they ultimately divorce or stay married. At midlife, changes related to perimenopause and menopause are often factors, but regardless of age many women describe feeling exhausted by carrying the majority of the mental load and doing most of the emotional labor in their relationships.
Many report frustration that repeated attempts to be heard about these issues go nowhere. This is often when quiet quitting begins.
Take Melinda and Jim, a couple I worked with. By the time their youngest child left for college, they had become virtual strangers, sharing a home but very little else.
Over the years, Melinda had given up on emotional intimacy and stopped turning to the relationship for connection, while Jim largely failed to notice how distant they had become.
The rupture came when Jim began talking about retirement and relocating, and Melinda realized they weren't aligned on what they wanted next. She wasn't sure she wanted to stay married.
What seemed like an impasse about logistics was really the result of years of emotional disengagement that neither of them had named.
Like Melinda, most partners don't just suddenly decide to leave. One or both begin to withdraw and the couple drifts apart, living parallel lives under the same roof, until the emotional connection is gone.
Longevity does not protect a relationship from disengagement.
Many stay together for reasons that make sense on paper: finances, children, and the inevitable disruption to their lives. Some believe starting over later in life is riskier than tolerating an adequate relationship, as in the old adage that the devil you know is better than the devil you don't know.
In today's economy, with the cost of living soaring, this calculation is even more challenging. For some, quiet quitting becomes a survival strategy rather than an active choice. It feels like the least painful option among several non-ideal paths.
But much of the time, quiet quitting is unconscious, and one or both partners fail to realize what is happening until it's too late.
Avoidant behavior sits at the center of this dynamic. It shows up as the tendency to swallow disappointments rather than risk conflict, to deal with hurt privately instead of bringing it into the relationship, and to convince yourself that speaking up is pointless or will only make things worse.
Over time, this becomes the relational default. Needs go unspoken, resentment accumulates, and intimacy erodes until it's been replaced by indifference.
What makes quiet quitting so difficult to detect is its lack of drama. There is no grand declaration, no slammed door, no overt betrayal. Instead, effort diminishes, affection wanes, and conversations about the future disappear.
Couples may tell themselves their relationship is stable because they're not arguing, but beneath the surface they feel increasingly alone together.
Quiet quitting rarely announces itself, but there are recognizable patterns that emerge when one partner begins to disengage.
- 'Keeping the peace' becomes more important than talking it out
- One or both parties stop bringing emotionally intimate issues to the table and begin minimizing or dismissing small hurts.
- Conversations that once included vulnerability become practical and surface-level, focused on logistics rather than emotional connection.
Connection is often redirected elsewhere
- Your partner spends most of their free time separately with friends, the kids, or even coworkers.
- They stop actively making plans for quality time together.
Affection tends to fade
- Touch becomes infrequent or perfunctory, and emotional responsiveness diminishes.
- They may seem oddly blasé, no longer reacting strongly to your choices, your feelings, or even conflict itself.
You don't fight anymore
- This lack of friction may seem like a positive sign, but in reality when conflict disappears entirely, it often means one or both partners have stopped caring enough to try.
- From the outside, the relationship may look calm and functional, but inside emotional distance is growing.
Over time, this creates a cumulative disconnection that becomes increasingly difficult to reverse. Eventually, the bond can deteriorate into detachment, a state where even sincere attempts to reconnect no longer reach the person who has already pulled away.
And then there's the harder truth: sometimes the person quiet quitting is you. You stop naming your needs. You stop initiating repair. You no longer care enough to argue. And perhaps you've found other ways to get your needs met outside of the relationship.
You may notice yourself avoiding conversations you already know need to happen. You tell yourself it's not worth the energy, that it won't change anything, or that keeping the peace is better than opening something up.
You stop feeling angry, but you also stop feeling invested. What once would have bothered you now barely registers, and you mistake that numbness for acceptance or growth.
From a biological perspective, none of this is surprising. Human beings are not wired to remain wildly attracted to one person on autopilot for decades. Constant exposure creates desensitization, and without novelty, our brains release less dopamine, the neurochemical associated with desire and excitement.
Shared experiences, new conversations, and intentional connection are what help sustain attraction and deepen emotional bonds. This isn't romantic idealism; it's neurobiology.
Quiet quitting takes hold when that reinvention never occurs and when small moments of conflict are consistently avoided. The moments when you want to swallow your feelings or tell yourself it's not worth bringing up are inflection points.
Over time, those choices shape the emotional climate of a relationship, determining whether intimacy is strengthened or slowly worn away.
The tragedy of quiet quitting is that, in many cases, it is preventable. Not through grand gestures or dramatic ultimatums but through consistent uncomfortable honesty. Addressing small frustrations early. Communicating needs before resentment calcifies. Prioritizing shared experiences that bring new energy into the relationship. Creating a regular space for intentional conversation rather than waiting for crisis to force it.
Quiet quitting is rarely about one catastrophic failure; it is the accumulation of unspoken moments that eventually harden into distance.
But it doesn't have to be a sentence. It can be a warning sign to tune in and make a conscious choice about what you want.
This is exactly what my clients Melinda and Jim did. Once Melinda acknowledged that she had been quiet quitting, she chose to re-engage rather than continue withdrawing.
Jim recognized the distance he'd been ignoring. Together, they began having the conversations about their hopes, fears, and dreams that they had been sidestepping for years.
They realized they both still wanted the relationship to work and were willing to reinvest emotionally. This allowed them to come to a shared vision for what the next chapter of their lives could look like.
whether the next chapter involves repair or separation; acknowledging disengagement honestly is an act of self-respect and empowerment.
Relationships require intention. Silence is not neutrality. And staying quiet often costs far more than we think.