Your Relational Memory Sucks! The Peak end Rule & Love

We don't remember relationships the way we think we do. Most of us believe we carry around a mental scrapbook, a fair accounting of how things were—the good days, the bad ones, the steady stretches in between. But that’s not how memory works. It’s not even close.

According to Nobel Prize-winning psychologist Daniel Kahneman, we tend to evaluate experiences based on two key moments: the emotional peak (the most intense moment, good or bad) and the ending. This is known as the Peak-End Rule. His 1993 study showed that patients undergoing painful procedures actually remembered the experience more positively when it ended on a less painful note, even if the overall procedure was longer and more uncomfortable.

Why? Because our brains privilege or prioritize impact, not duration. In other words, it is because our brains focus on how intense something feels, not how long it lasts.

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In relationships, this rule operates almost invisibly. One explosive argument, one moment of deep betrayal, or a cold, disconnected ending can dominate a person’s memory of a relationship that was otherwise steady. Likewise, a relationship marked by volatility or confusion may still be remembered with longing if it ended on a redemptive or emotionally satisfying note.

This isn’t just a theory floating in academic journals. It shows up in therapy offices every day. A spouse says, "It was never good," not because it never was, but because a deeply painful emotional peak, followed by a disengaged or unresolved ending, rewrote the emotional story. Our minds tell stories; they don't track data.

And it’s not just Kahneman who gives us reason to doubt our memory. Psychologist Elizabeth Loftus, a pioneer in the study of eyewitness memory, found that emotional intensity and suggestion dramatically alter what people recall. In one of her foundational studies, participants watched footage of a car crash and were asked how fast the cars were going when they "smashed" versus when they "hit." Those who heard "smashed" reported significantly higher speeds—and even remembered broken glass that didn’t exist (Loftus & Palmer, 1974). Other studies have confirmed that people’s confidence in their memory has little to do with its accuracy (Wells & Olson, 2003).

If this is true in something as concrete as a car accident,

It’s even more true in relationships,

Where the stakes are emotional, not physical.

That matters. Because when a marriage is evaluated based on one bad night, or the unresolved way it ended, it can distort not only the truth, but the healing. And if a parent-child relationship is remembered only through a lens of abandonment, even a single repaired moment might never get its due.

So what can we do?

We can take responsibility for the "emotional peaks" we create. We can ensure our "endings" to conversations, fights, seasons, etc, are not left raw or cold. We can repair ruptures intentionally so that they don’t define the whole. Here’s how:

1. Create intentional positive peaks. These don’t have to be elaborate. Shared laughter, vulnerability, small surprises, moments of real presence, these are the emotional highs that bond. People don’t forget how they felt when you saw them, heard them, or delighted in them.

2. Don’t let conflict end without repair. A fight isn’t what ruins a relationship. It’s how it ends. Ending with stonewalling, withdrawal, or silence solidifies pain. Ending with a repair attempt ("I’m frustrated, but I still love you" or "Let’s come back to this") leaves an open door for healing.

3. Revisit and rewrite the harmful peaks. If you know there was a moment that hurt your partner (a betrayal, a moment of abandonment, a harsh word that stuck), don’t pretend time will erase it. Go back. Name it. Own it. Heal it. That reworking of memory is not manipulation. It’s restoration.

4. Close emotional loops. Whether it’s the end of a day, an argument, or even a relationship, endings matter. How you leave things behind will often matter more than how long they last. As McAdams (2001) has shown in his work on narrative identity, we remember life through story, not scorecards.

Ultimately, we can't trust our memory to give us a fair account of love. But we can choose how we show up in the moments that shape how others will remember us.

And we can reframe how we remember love, not by rewriting the truth, but by honoring the full story, especially the parts that came after the pain.

Citations:

• Kahneman, D., Fredrickson, B.L., Schreiber, C.A., & Redelmeier, D.A. (1993). When More Pain Is Preferred to Less: Adding a Better End. Psychological Science, 4(6), 401–405.

• Loftus, E. F., & Palmer, J. C. (1974). Reconstruction of Automobile Destruction: An Example of the Interaction Between Language and Memory. Journal of Verbal Learning and Verbal Behavior, 13(5), 585–589.

• Wells, G. L., & Olson, E. A. (2003). Eyewitness testimony. Annual Review of Psychology, 54, 277–295.

• McAdams, D. P. (2001). The Psychology of Life Stories. Review of General Psychology, 5(2), 100–122.