Beyond the Four Horsemen: Why I Found Gottman’s Model a Bit Shamey (and What Helped Instead)
Written by Yasmin Shaheen-Zaffar. Copyright 2025
When I first came across the Gottman Institute’s “Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse,”
I appreciated the clarity. It offered a sharp, research-based framework to understand why relationships fall apart.
Criticism, contempt, defensiveness, and stonewalling – these were the behaviours most likely to predict relational breakdown. Simple. Memorable. Supposedly universal.
But over time, in both my personal life and professional practice, I began to notice something uncomfortable: the model felt shamey. Kinda judgey.
And not just a little bit.
For many people, especially those who are already in distress, struggling to stay regulated in a relationship, being told they are engaging in “contempt” or “stonewalling” or “ghosting” or a “narcissist” doesn’t invite reflection or healing.
It shuts them down further. It says, “You’re the problem.” And that can reinforce the very disconnection the model is trying to resolve.
I don’t believe Gottman intended it this way. Maybe it’s just a shift in society – in the language we use, in the way we understand relationships.
Perhaps it’s part of an evolution, a broader movement toward greater nervous system awareness and compassion in how we relate to one another.
But for many clients – especially neurodivergent individuals like myself or those with trauma histories – naming their behaviours without naming their nervous system responses simply doesn’t work. In fact, it often increases shame and blame.
What’s Missing: The Nervous System
What the Four Horsemen model doesn’t account for is what the body is doing. It focuses on the behaviour, not the why behind it. For anyone who knows me – the “Why?” is imperative, the “why” is often neurobiological.
Someone who “stonewalls” may actually be in a immobilised autonomic nervous state (dorsal vagal shutdown). Their system has gone into freeze, not out of malice or power, but because their brain is overwhelmed and safety feels out of reach.
Someone who seems “defensive” may be in fight-or-flight – not because they’re avoiding responsibility, but because they feel under attack.
This is especially true for those with trauma histories, whether from acute events, chronic relational trauma, neurodivergence, systemic oppression or the everyday trauma of ableism.
What looks like defensiveness may actually be a deeply wired strategy to preserve dignity, autonomy, or emotional safety in environments where those things haven’t always been honoured.
These aren’t character flaws. These are adaptive survival responses.
I’m not asking for people to be let off the hook – I’m asking for us to understand them. Because through understanding comes compassion. And through compassion, real change becomes possible.
A Polyvagal Lens: From Pathology to Protection
This is where a polyvagal-informed model brings so much relief. I developed a model I now use with individuals and couples:
Four States of Relational Distress : by Yasmin Shaheen-Zaffar
It mirrors the Gottman framework in structure but replaces shame with nervous system awareness. It includes visuals, self-reflection tools, and gentle prompts that invite understanding, not blame.
Instead of seeing criticism, defensiveness, and stonewalling as “bad behaviours,” we can begin to see them as nervous system responses:
Urgent Expression (Fight) instead of criticism or contempt
Reactive Shielding (Flight/Fight) instead of defensiveness
Immobilised Retreat (Freeze/Dorsal) instead of stonewalling or ghosting
Quiet Appeasement (Fawn) which is often missed entirely, but very present
Each of these states is the nervous system trying to protect us from perceived danger.
When we frame relationship dynamics this way, we create space for curiosity, self-awareness, and co-regulation.
We move away from “You’re doing it wrong” and toward “What is your system protecting you from right now?”
What Helped Me and My Clients
As someone who works with many neurodivergent clients, I’ve seen how traditional models of communication can unintentionally pathologise behaviours that are actually rooted in sensory processing differences, social burnout, or nervous system overwhelm.
For example, a shutdown in an autistic or ADHD nervous system can be misinterpreted as disinterest or stonewalling when it is, in fact, a biologically-driven response to overstimulation or shame.
When I started using polyvagal language with my family, something shifted.
People who had felt blamed or broken suddenly had a map. They could locate themselves. They could see their responses not as evidence of failure, but as cues from their nervous system. And from there, we could work together to build safety, soften activation, and repair connection. I broke generational patterns.
Appeasement and the Hidden Roots of Contempt
One insight that emerged as I developed this model is how often appeasement is left out of traditional frameworks — and yet it plays a profound role in relational distress.
Appeasement, also known as fawning, is a survival response rooted in the nervous system’s attempt to preserve connection at any cost. It often looks like people-pleasing, masking, over-accommodating, or going quiet to avoid conflict.
For example: the wife who has sex to avoid an argument, the mistress who stays silent to feel seen and loved, or the child who gives away their toys to be liked.
These are not signs of weakness or manipulation – they are strategies for survival. For many – especially those who are neurodivergent or have trauma histories – appeasement becomes an ingrained way of staying safe.
But over time, this chronic self-silencing can generate internalised resentment. When a person constantly suppresses their needs, voice, or authenticity to maintain peace, something begins to erode beneath the surface. And what often surfaces later is contempt – not always loudly, but through passive withdrawal, cynicism, or even shame turned outward.
In this way, appeasement can be a hidden precursor to contempt – not because someone is manipulative, but because they have never felt safe enough to express what they really feel.
Understanding this nervous system arc is vital. It helps us move from blame to inquiry:
What has this person learned about what happens when they speak up?
What kind of safety do they need in order to be more authentic?
When we support people in recognising their fawning responses and gently restoring their voice, we help prevent the relational rupture that comes when resentment turns to contempt.
Love Isn’t War. It’s a Dance of Nervous Systems.
Special thanks to Dr. Stephen Porges and the Polyvagal Institute for their foundational work, which continues to illuminate the connection between our nervous systems and our relationships.
I’m not dismissing the usefulness of the Four Horsemen. It remains a brilliant tool for many therapists. But if we stop at the behaviour without understanding the body, we risk leaving people stuck in cycles of shame.
Relationships aren’t battlegrounds of right and wrong. They’re living systems of two (or more) nervous systems trying to find safety, connection, and belonging.
And when we bring a polyvagal lens to our relational work, we don’t just name the problems. We make healing possible.