Sherley's Show

One of the biggest takeaways from this week's podcast was realizing how differently people define a healthy relationship. If you ask ten couples what love, intimacy, or even a "50/50 relationship" looks like, you'll probably get ten different answers. That's because every relationship has its own rhythm, its own strengths, and its own challenges. There isn't a one-size-fits-all formula.

For the longest time, I honestly believed that 50/50 meant exactly that. I thought both people were supposed to contribute equally every single day. The older I've gotten, and the longer Khalif and I have been together, the more I've realized that's simply not realistic. Life doesn't work that way. There are days when one person is carrying more because the other person is exhausted, overwhelmed, traveling for work, or simply going through something mentally or emotionally. A healthy relationship isn't about making sure everything is perfectly even. It's about continuing to show up for one another with whatever you have to give that day.

When people hear the word intimacy, most immediately think about sex. While physical intimacy is certainly important, it's only one part of building a strong relationship. During this episode, we talked about the four different types of intimacy: emotional, physical, mental, and spiritual. Each one plays a role in creating connection.

Emotional intimacy comes from feeling safe enough to be vulnerable. Mental intimacy is built by sharing your dreams, goals, and the future you're creating together. Spiritual intimacy can look different for every couple, whether that's praying together, reading scripture, or simply sharing the same values. When one area begins to suffer, the relationship often starts to feel disconnected, even if everything else seems fine on the surface.

When people hear our story, they usually want to know one thing...

How are we doing now?

This year marks 11 years since one of the hardest seasons of our relationship. It's still hard to believe it's been that long. Time really does fly.

If you've followed me for a while, you know Khalif and I have always tried to be transparent about what we've been through. We don't share everything, but we do share enough to hopefully encourage someone else who might be walking through a difficult season.

The biggest thing I can say today is this, we're doing well.

Not because life is perfect.

Not because we never disagree.

And definitely not because we've arrived.

We're doing well because we've never stopped doing the work.

One of the biggest reasons for that is counseling. Even after all these years, we're still meeting with our counselors. Some people think therapy is only for relationships that are falling apart, but I couldn't disagree more. For us, it's maintenance. It's a chance to check in, work through unhealthy patterns, and make sure we're staying intentional instead of simply going through the motions.

Recently our counselor challenged us with something that really stuck with me. He said sometimes we're either living in the past or worrying about the future instead of truly being present. That hit home. Even after healing, there are still moments where it's easy to protect yourself instead of fully showing up. Healing doesn't mean you forget what happened. It means you stop allowing it to control every decision you make.

Life moves fast. Between work, family, relationships, and everyday responsibilities, it's easy to keep pushing forward without ever stopping to ask yourself one important question:

How am I really doing?

That simple question is where self-reflection begins.

In a recent episode of The Sherley Show, we explored what self-reflection truly means, why it's essential for personal growth, and how taking an honest look at ourselves, not everyone else, can completely change the direction of our lives.

Self-reflection is the practice of examining your own thoughts, emotions, behaviors, and decisions. Instead of focusing on what everyone else is doing wrong, self-reflection encourages you to ask:

• What could I have done differently?

• What lessons can I learn from this experience?

• How can I become a better version of myself?

Growth doesn't happen by blaming others. It happens when we're willing to be honest with ourselves.

Parenting has never been easy.

Every generation faces new challenges, new fears, and new questions about how to raise children into kind, responsible adults. But today's parents are navigating something previous generations never had to experience: raising children in a world where technology is always within arm's reach.

From TikTok and YouTube to gaming platforms, messaging apps, and artificial intelligence, children today are growing up in a digital landscape that changes almost overnight.

So how do we embrace technology without allowing it to raise our children?

That was the heart of our conversation on The Sherley Show.

There are certain words that can completely change the direction of a conversation.

Submission is one of them.

The moment the word enters the room, people tend to have a reaction. Some people immediately become defensive. Others become curious. Some view it as a beautiful part of a healthy relationship, while others see it as outdated, controlling, or even dangerous.

What fascinates me about the word submission is that most people react before they even define it.

We hear the word and instantly attach our own experiences, fears, and assumptions to it.

For some women, submission sounds like losing your voice.

For others, it sounds like sacrificing your independence.

For some, it brings back memories of unhealthy relationships where leadership looked more like control.

And for others, it simply feels like a role they have no interest in playing.

But what if submission isn't actually the problem?

What if the real issue is the type of leadership people have experienced?

As I've gotten older, my perspective on submission has changed significantly.

When I was younger, I thought submission meant putting someone else's needs above my own. I believed it meant following, agreeing, accommodating, and making sure the person I loved was happy no matter what.

Looking back now, I wouldn't call that healthy submission.

Family baggage is one of those things that most of us don't realize we're carrying until we're older.

When we're children, our family dynamics simply feel normal. The way our parents communicate. The way conflict is handled. The expectations placed on us. The things we're allowed to talk about and the things we're taught to keep quiet. We don't stop to question any of it because it's all we've ever known.

It's usually not until adulthood that we begin to notice the weight of what we've inherited.

Maybe it shows up in our relationships. Maybe it shows up in how we parent. Maybe it appears in the way we handle conflict, avoid difficult conversations, struggle to set boundaries, or feel guilty for prioritizing ourselves. Suddenly, we're faced with the realization that some of the habits, beliefs, and behaviors we've carried into adulthood didn't actually start with us.

They were passed down.

That realization can be uncomfortable because many of us love our families deeply. We don't want to feel like we're criticizing the people who raised us. We don't want to sound ungrateful. But I think there's a difference between blaming our families and honestly acknowledging the ways they shaped us.

Relationships are hard.

And I don't say that negatively, I say it honestly.

I think social media has made relationships look polished, effortless, romantic, and perfectly put together all the time. But after being with my partner for 28 years, I can confidently say that healthy relationships are built through work, growth, grace, communication, and a whole lot of learning.

That's what inspired this conversation on Sherley's Show.

I wanted to talk openly about what truly creates the foundation of a healthy relationship, not just from a romantic perspective, but through friendships, family relationships, and even work relationships too.

Dating in 2025 honestly feels overwhelming.

Everywhere you look, social media is telling people what relationships should look like, what a "real man" should provide, what a "soft life" is supposed to be, and what women or men should expect financially before a relationship even begins.

As someone who has been in a relationship for 28 years, I know our generation dated very differently. We didn't grow up with Instagram, TikTok, or relationship podcasts constantly influencing how we viewed love. So while I may not personally know what it feels like to date in 2025, I do know what it takes to maintain a long-term relationship through real life, hard seasons, growth, sacrifice, and change.

And honestly? Some of the messages being pushed online today concern me.

There's a certain kind of exhaustion that comes not from the first heartbreak, but from the one that feels familiar.

The kind where you don't just feel pain… you recognize it.

When we left off, the conversation was still raw. The emotions were still fresh. But something subtle had shifted in the weeks that followed. Not clarity, not resolution, but a different kind of awareness.

Because when you're standing in the middle of a relationship you're not sure you're staying in or leaving, the question becomes less about what's next and more about who you are becoming while you're here.

There are certain conversations that don't come easily. Not because we don't have the words, but because the words carry weight. This is one of those conversations.

Infidelity is something that often gets reduced to a single moment, a mistake, a betrayal, a line crossed. But what we don't talk about enough is what happens when it isn't just once. What happens when it becomes a pattern? When forgiveness has already been given. When the work has already been done. And yet, somehow, you find yourself right back in the same place.

"This is the third time."

There's something about that sentence that changes everything. The first time, you can call it a mistake. You can wrap it in grace, in newness, in the belief that people are still figuring things out. The second time, it becomes something to fix. You lean into therapy, into communication, into the hope that if you just work hard enough, love intentionally enough, you can rebuild what was broken.