I started my own marketing business and my husband works for me. It leads to dinner-table arguments, so we've worked on our boundaries.

• Natascha Turner, 47, started a marketing agency and employs her own husband.
• There are perks — the couple have been able to move to Spain as remote workers.
• But she says it's "no walk in the park" and they've had to set some boundaries.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Natascha Turner, 47, who runs her own marketing agency. It has been edited for length and clarity.

It's funny how things work out — I never really wanted to start my own business.

The security of a regular paycheck was always the most important thing for me. It was instilled in me by my mom, who was a single parent, so financial security was always the top priority.

I was moving up the corporate ladder in the world of marketing and advertising, and after getting a few promotions, I realized I could probably actually do this working for myself. So in 2016, I started my own marketing agency.

My husband's career was going in the opposite direction; he'd joined a startup business that turned out to be on the brink of failure. Everyone he worked with was dodgy. He was chronically stressed because he wasn't making any money.

After two years of him working at the startup business, I put my foot down and said: that's it, no more of that. I've had enough of you going through this and not getting money in return for your skills. You're coming over to work with me. So, a year ago, that's what he did. I now employ four people, one of whom is my husband.

Our dynamic at work is different from our regular dynamic

At work, I'm more alpha, and he's more passive, which is a reversal of how we typically are in our relationship. We've been together for 16 years and married for 11. Back then, nobody would've believed we'd ever work together. We're just so different. He's quiet, data-driven, and will go down into rabbit holes. I have to put my foot down and say, "This multi-layered spreadsheet isn't what the client needs. Stop wasting time, focus on their needs."

The hardest part is balancing my role as a leader with my role as a wife. Women don't often talk about how hard it is to lead with strength without feeling like we're losing a piece of our femininity.

But it's my job to make the big calls. He appreciates it because, he admits, it's not his strong point. If graphics came in and weren't right, he'd dance around it rather than just say, "This isn't right; you need to go back and fix it."

It's hard to keep the work conversations from coming home with us

Working with your partner is no walk in the park. Sure, there's this glossy idea of "building a dream together," but the truth is, it's juggling spreadsheets with side-eye and trying not to kill each other over emails.

Those tough decisions can hit differently once we get home. Work conversations don't just end at the office; they follow us to the dinner table, the sofa, and even into the shower.

After a long day of meetings and calls, instead of decompressing, the same work chat sometimes bubbles up. "Why'd you veto that idea earlier?" or "You seemed sharp in that meeting — are you upset?"

The lines blur, the feelings flare, and suddenly it's not just a conversation — it's a thing. The number of times I've had to say, "Can we just not right now?" or "Do you want to keep talking about this or move on?" It's like being a referee, a therapist, and a CEO all rolled into one.

Focusing on boundaries has been helpful

In June last year, we relocated from Perth, Australia, to Valencia, Spain, so we now schedule time together to make space for being a couple: holding hands, switching off, and exploring this new city. Here in Valencia, they have these big public baths full of jacuzzis so we'll go there twice a week, and they've become a space where we've agreed not to discuss work.

It's important to remember to just be silly as well — I do that by dancing to music around the house with him so things feel less serious, and we laugh together.

I still get it wrong sometimes. Last week, I snapped and shouted, "You've got to do it this way!" After a stressful moment like that, I make sure we sit down and discuss it, and I'll apologize for being dismissive. I think that's key, too — being self-aware enough to admit you're wrong. He gets it. He'll accept my apology, and we'll move on.

It's recognizing your flaws, too. I'm pretty quick to temper when it comes to deadlines; a bit of a control freak. That's what makes me really good at some things but I know when I've pushed too hard and need to back off. It took a lot of working on myself to get to this point, though.

I see things getting better and better now that we have systems and processes as a couple, not just as colleagues. It's taught us the art of boundaries, the value of switching off, and the importance of saying, " No more business talk tonight, OK?"