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The Transformative Power of Imago Therapy
It’s Not About the Toothpaste
In relationships, it’s rarely about the toothpaste.
It’s about what the toothpaste represents—what lives beneath the surface of our irritation, what old stories are being unconsciously activated, and how deeply we long to feel understood. Jayne Gumpel, a gifted North American Imago Relationship Therapist and poet, captures this exquisitely in her poem The Toothpaste Tube: A Tribute to Love (Eventually), shared in full at the end of this post.
In her words, a seemingly mundane frustration becomes a portal—an entryway into vulnerability, memory, and ultimately, empathy in relationships.
When the Little Things Aren’t So Little
“He squeezes the toothpaste tube
from the middle.
Every time.
No matter what I say.”
We begin with the familiar: the small grievance, the quiet seethe, the “should.” In many partnerships, these moments spark arguments that feel outsized compared to the issue at hand. But as Jayne’s poem unfolds, so does the why—the tender history that gives these moments their emotional weight.
“That shelf—
the one beneath the cabinet,
now stained with minty smears—
was the last thing my father gave me
before he died.”
Suddenly, this isn’t about toothpaste at all. It’s about emotional triggers in relationships.
The Stories We Bring With Us
It’s about grief. About a yearning for care. About a daughter trying to preserve something sacred in her daily life—and feeling like her partner doesn’t see it. But he doesn’t see it, because he’s carrying his own unseen story. His own ache.
“His mother yelled at him
to hurry up,
to get out of the bathroom.
Four sisters.
Nowhere to go.”
This is the heart of Imago therapy for couples: helping partners move beyond blame and reactivity, and instead guiding them toward relationship empathy and deep understanding.
Seeing the Child in Each Other
When we slow down and enter a space where no one interrupts, where no one is wrong, and where every feeling has a story behind it—we begin to see each other differently.
We begin to see the child in each other.
“Not toothpaste
but memory.
Not disrespect
but longing.”
Imago Dialogue therapy creates a sacred container for these moments—where partners can speak and be deeply heard, not just with ears, but with the heart. The goal isn’t to “fix” each other. The goal is to understand, and in that understanding, to rebuild emotional intimacy.
Love Makes Room for Everything
Jayne’s poem ends not with perfect resolution, but with grace.
“We still squeeze the tube differently.
(Well maybe he did it less and I cared less too…….)
Because now,
when I see it lying there,
I think of his boyhood ache.
He thinks of my father’s hands.”
This is what healing through Imago therapy can look like. Not sameness, but spaciousness. Not agreement, but relationship connection.
And maybe even laughter.
“Because love, eventually,
makes room for everything.”
Curious About Imago?
If you’re longing for deeper understanding in your relationship, more meaningful connection, or simply a way to feel less alone in your journey, I’m here to help. Through the Imago Relationship Therapy process, I offer a compassionate, structured approach to healing couples’ communication and connection.
👉 Contact Caroline to learn more about Imago counseling, Imago workshops, or clinical trainings for therapists, or schedule a consultation today.
The Toothpaste Tube
A Tribute to Love (Eventually)
He squeezes the toothpaste tube
from the middle.
Every time.
No matter what I say.
He leaves it just under the cabinet,
never inside,
like I’ve asked
again
and again.
I shouldn’t have to ask.
He should know.
So I sulk.
Not about the toothpaste—
but about what it means.
He just doesn’t care,
I tell myself.
This is how I make him into the villain
of my quiet heartbreak.
That shelf—
the one beneath the cabinet,
now stained with minty smears—
was the last thing my father gave me
before he died.
We were not close.
But that day—
that one day—
we measured, drilled,
held the wood in place
like something sacred.
Like a moment we both knew
we might not get again.
I didn’t realize
how much it mattered
until I said it out loud.
Until someone listened
without fixing.
Until he sat across from me
and heard what I had buried
under sighs and sarcasm.
He told me
his mother yelled at him
to hurry up,
to get out of the bathroom.
Four sisters.
Nowhere to go.
No mirror that belonged to him.
He felt unseen.
I felt uncared for.
We both carried old stories
into the quiet war
of the morning routine.
But here—
in the sacred space
of intentional listening,
where no one interrupts,
where empathy is the only rule—
we saw the child in each other.
We saw
not toothpaste
but memory.
Not disrespect
but longing.
And love—
real love—
was not in the fixing,
but in the seeing.
We still squeeze the tube differently.
(Well maybe he did it less and I cared less too…….)
Because now,
when I see it lying there,
I think of his boyhood ache.
He thinks of my father’s hands.
And sometimes—
we laugh.
Because love, eventually,
makes room for everything.
~Jayne Gumpel
