Giving the Game Away:
When Strategy Ends and Truth Begins
Dear Reader,
Most people are taught—early and quietly—that relationships are a game.
Who texts first.
Who cares more.
Who holds back to stay safe.
This way of relating is so common it becomes invisible.
But over time, it hollows things out.
What begins as protection becomes distance.
In relational work, there is a moment that marks a true threshold.
It’s the moment someone chooses to give the game away—on purpose.
Not by accident.
Not in a flood of emotion.
But deliberately.
What “giving the game away” really means
Traditionally, to give the game away means to reveal a secret or lose an advantage.
In intimate relationships, it means something else.
It means stopping the management of perception and telling the truth.
It can sound like
• naming what is wanted
• admitting fear
• stating a boundary early
• acknowledging uncertainty
The game being given away is not intimacy.
It is control.
And control starves connection.
Why people play games
Games are not born from cruelty.
They are born from protection.
Most people learned that honesty could cost them love, safety, or belonging. Strategy became a way to survive.
But survival strategies do not make good foundations for adult relationships.
They create confusion.
Power struggles.
Performance instead of presence.
The nervous system stays braced.
Connection becomes conditional.
Which is why stopping the game takes courage.
What it takes internally to give the game away
Giving the game away on purpose is not impulsive.
It is the result of quiet, sustained warrior work.
First, fear.
Not abstract fear—but the real fear of being misunderstood, rejected, or left alone in one’s truth. The body has to stay present long enough to feel that risk.
Second, a loosening of old loyalty.
Many people remain loyal to earlier selves who survived by staying strategic, agreeable, or controlled. This work honors what once protected you—without letting it lead.
That is not betrayal.
That is growth.
Third, a shift from outcome control to self-respect.
The question changes from
“Will this work?”
to
“Will I abandon myself if I don’t say this?”
That is the line warriors learn to hold.
Fourth, regulation.
Truth spoken from a flooded system becomes sharp.
Truth spoken from steadiness becomes clean.
And then, grief.
Giving the game away often means grieving the fantasy that if you played it perfectly, closeness could be guaranteed.
There are no such guarantees.
Letting go hurts.
And frees.
What I see again and again in my couples work
In my couples coaching work, this moment shows up again and again.
Two people sit across from each other, braced. Care is there—but so is strategy. One is holding back. The other is guessing. Both are tired.
And then something shifts.
One partner takes a breath.
Feels their feet.
Lets the awkwardness be there.
And instead of hinting or defending, they ask—plainly—for what they need.
Not perfectly.
Not smoothly.
But honestly.
They offer their partner care instructions.
“I shut down when voices rise. A calmer tone helps me hear you.”
“I’m braver when I know what you’re asking for instead of guessing.”
“When I feel seen for my effort, I relax and show up more fully.”
The room changes—not because the request is guaranteed to be met, but because the game has ended.
These moments work because they
– replace strategy with clarity
– reduce nervous system load
– end the guessing
– invite care without demanding it
When someone names a need without manipulation, the other partner no longer has to interpret or defend.
They can simply respond.
That is where repair begins.
That is where intimacy has room to return.
What changes when the game ends
When the game ends, the field shifts.
Giving the game away does not promise intimacy.
It promises clarity.
And clarity allows relationships to deepen honestly—or end without distortion.
Both are care.
Giving the game away is not emotional dumping.
It is not collapsing boundaries.
It is not asking someone else to manage your feelings.
It is clean ownership.
“This is what’s true for me.”
“This is what I can offer.”
“This is what I’m available for.”
No persuasion.
No performance.
No hooks.
The difference matters.
Over-sharing seeks relief.
Truth seeks alignment.
One leaks responsibility.
The other holds it.
Giving the game away does not hand your power to someone else.
It gathers it back.
The authority of integrity
Many people fear they will lose power if they give the game away.
Integrity is power.
Congruence steadies the system.
Transparency reduces chaos.
Truth builds trust—whatever the answer.
Giving the game away on purpose is choosing truth over advantage and self-respect over control.
That choice doesn’t end the relationship.
It reveals whether one truly exists.
A closing ritual
Pause.
Feel your feet on the ground.
Notice your breath without changing it.
Let your shoulders soften.
Ask yourself—quietly:
Where am I still managing instead of telling the truth?
What does my body already know that my voice has not named?
One truth.
Spoken cleanly.
That is where integrity begins.
That is where the game ends.
Place your courage into one small truth this week and see what happens.
I believe in you,
Fereshta
