I Need Space: Why the Relationship Feels Suffocating

“That’s it. I can’t live in this relationship anymore. She hides things from me all the time.

“On the one hand, we have our shared world, and on the other hand, she has an entire world that I’m not part of. She has a secret code for her phone, a password for her computer, and her own hobbies,” Meir said in despair.

“How much longer can we keep going in circles?” Orit replied firmly. “We’ve been in therapy for years, repeating the same story. Every therapist has tried to explain the same thing to you. You and I are not one person. I need personal space.”

“I feel like our relationship has invaded my soul too much,” she continued. “It’s crucial for me that we preserve each other’s personal space. All the therapists even emphasized that it’s healthy for each person to have their own hobbies, and that it can even be fine to sleep in separate rooms if possible. Unfortunately, our house is small,” she concluded.

When Personal Space Becomes Fear

“You feel that Meir is threatening your personal space,” I said to her. “That’s a terrible feeling. It feels suffocating.”

“Exactly. You understand me so well,” Orit replied.

“But unfortunately,” I continued, “this is no longer a relationship. It may be a form of partnership, but it isn’t a relationship.”

“Why not?” she asked, surprised.

“When maintaining personal space becomes the central focus of the relationship, fear enters the connection. Instead of wanting to be together, you are constantly busy protecting your individuality.”

“That’s not true,” she objected. “I do want to be with him. I married him because I felt stability and security with him. Before I met Meir, the world felt unsafe to me, like everything could collapse at any moment. I can’t be without him,” she said as she began to cry.

“You’re right,” I responded. “All the fears and anxieties we spoke about in previous therapy sessions led you to feel that you needed Meir, that you couldn’t survive without him, and that he would provide you with security.”

“Exactly,” she agreed. “That was the most important thing to me, that my space would feel stable, precisely because of my fears.”

When Security Turns Into Distance

“But it’s important to understand the root of this,” I said gently. “What are those fears really about?”

“What do you mean?” she asked defensively.

“These are fears of something large entering your life and diminishing you. You were afraid that something would invade your personal space and shake your sense of security.”

“And now,” I continued, “because you experience your relationship with Meir as something that invades your space, it only intensifies those fears.”

“That makes no sense,” she said in frustration. “I married him because he gave me security. If he gave me security, why don’t I trust him?”

“The explanation is deep,” I replied. “And even if it’s difficult to grasp right now, allow yourself to reflect on it later.

“The fact that you leaned on Meir to solve your fears caused ongoing frustration in the relationship. You wanted him to be a rescuer, someone who would guarantee your security. But because you were still deeply anxious, you were never able to truly surrender yourself to the connection.”

“You are constantly measuring yourself against him,” I added. “You give of yourself, but the moment you feel dependent on him, something paradoxical happens. You pull back in order to reclaim your space. This pattern repeats again and again.”

“Listen, Orit,” I said firmly. “A true connection cannot exist under these conditions. Not when there is constant panic about protecting personal space.”

“But Meir also started creating spaces that were only his,” she protested. “Thursday nights with friends, a second phone that’s ‘only for work,’ passwords on his computer that I don’t know…”

Mirroring and Disconnection

“In relationships,” I explained, “one partner often begins to mirror the behavior of the other, even if they were not like that initially.”

“That’s true,” Meir admitted quietly. “I entered this relationship completely open. Nothing was private. Over time, I felt I also needed places that were just mine. But honestly, it doesn’t feel good. It makes me feel that this isn’t really a relationship.”

“You were trying to get back at her,” I said.

“Apparently,” he replied, embarrassed.

“The exposure of these boundaries, which have created distance between you, is extremely important,” I concluded. “It allows us to diagnose the entire relational space and identify the point from which growth can occur.

“These very challenges you are facing now can become a springboard to a higher dimension of connection.”

This column was inspired by Rabbi Eliyahu Levy’s course, Root Treatment in Relationships.