"For Twenty Years I've Tried to Survive This Unhappy Marriage, Now I Can't Anymore"

"I don't understand how I made such a mistake," cried a woman about forty years old who came to therapy with her husband. "For twenty years I've been trying to survive this unhappy marriage. I haven't had a single day of peace with him, but now I've had enough! I can't take it anymore..."

"Tell me about yourself," I requested. "I grew up in a challenging home where the struggles never ended, but for as long as I can remember, my father was the most special person I knew," she began nostalgically. "Even internally, I grappled with turbulent emotions. But amid those waves, there was a unique anchor in my life of peace, security, and stability that was never shaken - my father. He never lost his temper. He had a routine that began with the morning prayer and continued with study sessions at the yeshiva, returning at seven in the evening to help my mother. I remember hearing his gentle knocks on the door, rushing breathlessly to be the one to open it, and being enveloped in the special light that radiated from him. I was so proud of my father. I felt the admiration his students and others showed him, so I always made sure to introduce myself as his daughter. From a young girl, I promised myself I would only marry a gentle man like my father. I wouldn't give up on that quality of life."

"The equation that formed in my head was 'good life = a husband like my father.' When I first met my husband, I felt my dream was starting to come true. Shmuel, my husband, behaved with incredible nobility during our encounters, speaking kindly and gently, and like a perfect gentleman, he ordered all my favorite foods and drinks. I was dizzy; this intoxicating euphoria began to take shape..."

"Tell me how you envisioned the dream," I asked. "I wanted simple pleasantness in our home. I dreamed of a clean and orderly house that radiates calmness and peace. I wanted to raise our children warmly together with my husband. I wasn't asking for wealth and luxury, just a warm, loving family nest..."

"And in reality?" I asked gently, "What's the reality?? Catastrophe!! There's not a moment of peace in this house. When Shmuel is home, it feels like a hurricane has swept in; everything moves. He manages affairs for all of Israel, organizes events, and when he comes home, he has to play lively music. If I ever dreamed that he would ask the kids 'what did you learn today?' or bother to cut them salad for dinner, which he rarely prepares, there's no chance! The children don't interest him, and I feel like I exist only to be a magnificent showcase for him. He knows how to bring in money, in abundance, but who needs this abundance when there's no peace to enjoy it? Especially when I dreamed of a husband who would sit and learn; I believe in the vitality of Torah that would bring blessings to our home."

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"For twenty years, I've lived with him and survived mainly when he's away. I 'gather the pieces' and myself, trying with all my limited strength to organize the house and calmly care for the kids. But now, with the pandemic keeping him home, I can't survive anymore!!"

"What gives you the strength to live under these conditions?" I asked. Her tears turned into a tremendous wave of deep, uncontrollable crying. A weeping that released endless pain...

"And how do you feel?" I turned to Shmuel. "It's very difficult to live for so many years with a wife who doesn't appreciate your personality, is disappointed by your activity, and not satisfied with the money you work hard to bring..."

The man sitting opposite me, who seemed unaffected by anything in the world, melted when he heard my words, which contained respect and appreciation for his personality as a human being and empathy for his feelings. His cheeks flushed red, and he lowered his gaze to hide the emotions boiling in his sensitive heart...

"I've never received recognition for the suffering I'm going through. It was always clear that my unique wife 'got a raw deal,' and I had to change and restrain myself; I try so hard to meet her expectations. I care for the children as best I can. They love me for the joy and liberation I bring home. I shower my wife with plenty of gifts. She can be at home without the burden of earning a living. Yes, she wants me to sit and learn and behave in every area just like her father, but what can I do, I can't achieve that?"

"Do you hear??" the woman interrupted him, turning to me, "He wants but can't - that's the refrain I've been hearing for years... Every time we try to reach agreements and he promises to try, in the end, the promises disappear in smoke... My poor children have learned that regardless of the weather, their busy father is always late, and they have to wait for him. I'm not talking about myself, a lonely woman, who has to stay up late to get attention from her husband, and then he comes home agitated and loud."

"And what do you do then when you're frustrated and disappointed?" I asked. "What haven't I tried to change his annoying behaviors? I begged, pleaded, consulted countless counselors and therapists whose treatment lasted at most two days... I even left the house a few times... He always asked for forgiveness, and I believed something would change. But after a day or two, everything returned to normal..."

It All Begins With Fear

This is how therapeutic meetings open, and the common denominator for them all is a plea for a solution.

When a person comes to therapy, they've reached a point of total helplessness that brought them to beg for a new idea for control.

To understand the depth of it, let’s ponder—how does this happen? Where does it come from? The human psyche comprises two processes: trust and control.

When I'm well and calm, and nothing threatens me, I don't have to do anything because I trust myself. The moment something threatens me, I automatically feel 'fear,' and fear necessitates control; I need to create actions to protect myself from the fear. For example, when I feel accused and destabilized, I immediately defend myself with explanations to feel okay. Or if I feel unloved, I'll try to gain favor in others’ eyes in various ways... All of this—when I don't trust myself, fear and consequently control are present. However, as my self-trust builds, I feel protected and secure even when things around don't flow as expected.

The stage when a patient reaches a therapist is after loss of control. After trying to deal with fear through various means of control to achieve protection but failing, they turn to the therapist. They essentially throw themselves onto the therapist 'as with a weaned child on its mother'—from a deep sense of total helplessness. Now, the therapist has the power to rebuild their trust, naturally diminishing fears and thereby reducing the need for defenses.

In this respect, I see the period of the pandemic as a special window of opportunity. This extreme helplessness that many couples feel forces them to throw themselves into the water and rebuild their trust. I meet many couples who have managed to cover up their difficulties creatively over decades by escaping their marital playing field. And now, when they find themselves 24/7 under one roof and the explosions threaten to shatter their nest, they are forced to face it and rebuild. I often illustrate this with the metaphor of a fire breaking out on the ground floor of a high-rise building. Instinctively, residents flee to the upper floors to escape the flames. On the roof stands someone confidently declaring that if they jump from a certain angle on the roof, nothing will harm them because a large shock-absorbing mattress is laid below. Likely, none of the residents would take this crazy suggestion and jump off the roof. But what if the flames climb and reach the upper floors? Then, some will fully trust that 'crazy guy' and jump one after the other...

Why? What changed their perspective and gave them the ability to create trust? The answer is: a sense of helplessness. Only complete helplessness brings us to a place where we are willing to let go of the reins of control and ask for help.

And here, it is important to understand my role as a therapist. When couples come to therapy after trying every control method to grant them security, but the miracle didn't occur... And now, displaying helplessness and complete reliance on the therapist, I'm faced with two paths: one is to offer advice and thereby give the patient a new range of control tools. The patient exits with an intoxicating sense of power and exercises new controls until the next fall... They're not dealing with the underlying fears and root issues but amplifying them, and when fears continue to intensify, along with the control mechanisms, the result may be disastrous and dangerous.

The second and correct path is to help the patient rebuild a trust system. To touch on fears down to the root, to embrace and accept the pain experienced, to examine the defense mechanisms and their consequences and give legitimacy to fear. Thus, gradually, with the right questions and a delicate and precise process, the need for control diminishes, and a place of trust and peace develops.

A Journey of Coping

In the story above, there's embedded two stories of helplessness that led to defenses: a woman who developed a thick wall of criticism towards her husband's personality, and a man who is fully absorbed in activities outside the home.

Each of these symptoms is a defense against fears that developed from a personal, unique life journey full of hurdles that led to different emotional expressions of these defenses.

Providing a solution or pinpointed treatment for the situation that brought them here is a perfect band-aid but doesn't solve the root problem, and tomorrow it will resurface with a new trigger. There's a long and sensitive story here that begins with each one's childhood experiences that brought them to this point, and if we don't embark on a deep process of exploration and acceptance, we haven't done our job.

Through deep processes during the sessions, a life picture emerges that explains these defenses as a perfect puzzle:

The woman, since her young years, didn’t value herself. Her existence was dependent only on being 'the daughter of...', and with this conditioning, she entered her marriage. The nobility her husband showed her increased the illusion that she would continue to be special even when she left her father's house. Now she would be the wife of...

But Hashem in His mercy doesn’t let us continue to be small, dependent, and weak. He gives us the most accurate spouse for our personal growth, through whom we can deepen and discover our soul’s treasures, granting us happiness and existence in our own right. Only this way is true and eternal trust built, as it is said 'a helper opposite him,' meaning the 'opposition' is the 'help.'

Shmuel, the husband, was revealed as a child who suffered social rejection due to being crude and loud. Slowly, over the years, he struggled to restrain himself and please those around him. It’s no wonder he tries to dance to his wife’s tune and naturally accepts the barrage of complaints she pours on him daily. He sees himself as a total failure who only an overhaul would earn a kind word. This escape is his survival; if he doesn’t 'refresh' himself in his colleagues' company, he can't survive...

If I dared take away each of their worlds’ defense mechanisms, they'd remain with fear and create new defenses. Thus, a different approach is needed.

So what do we do? First, merely clarifying and understanding this incredible need and fear behind the patterns we created is a unique and powerful element of therapy. Instead of feeling guilty and problematic, they realize their behavior embodies a survival technique for significant fear.

The beauty of doing this process jointly as a couple is that now each sees the other in an understanding and embracing light.

But feeling good is not everything. What's beyond that? Here comes the immense secret of the therapy gift. The discourse in the therapy room about past pain, with understanding and acceptance of our defense systems—has the power to rebuild trust, fear naturally diminishes, and the psyche doesn’t need to hold so tightly onto defenses.

This was a small taste from deep, wonderful processes. The explanations are hard to illustrate. But the principle is one: the surface story is the small part of the story. Always remember you’re seeing the tip of the iceberg of a life journey and emotions. And that tip is only a 'protective cap.'

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