The Moment of Truth: Is Love Really Gone?

“I feel like I’ve lost it,” Tzvika said quietly.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I feel like our relationship has reached a dead end. It’s somewhere lifeless. Elinor, my love for you is dead,” he turned to her in pain.

“Tzvika, that’s a very dramatic diagnosis,” I replied with a gentle smile. “We might need a medical team to determine whether it’s truly dead. You shouldn’t jump to conclusions so quickly.”

“Well, here you are,” he said bitterly. “You’re the medical team. If I don’t feel anything anymore, if I have no motivation to do anything together, doesn’t that mean it’s over?”

Loneliness Behind the Loss of Love

“I want to ask you something,” I said. “Why did you marry Elinor in the first place? What was so special about her that you chose her over many others?”

“Before I met her, I felt very lonely,” Tzvika answered.

“Lonely?” Elinor interrupted. “You were surrounded by people all the time. A big family, friends everywhere. The last thing I would say about you is that you were lonely.”

“Elinor,” I said, “loneliness has nothing to do with the number of people around you. A person can be surrounded by thousands and still feel deeply alone.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because loneliness is tied to genuine caring,” I explained. “To come out of loneliness, it’s not enough to be surrounded. A person needs to feel that someone truly cares about them, that they matter.”

“What happened to Tzvika,” I continued, “is that he feels this caring is missing. He feels you don’t truly take interest in him anymore.”

“Yes,” Tzvika nodded.

The Demonstration That Was Misunderstood

“Because he felt that lack,” I turned to Elinor, “his heart gradually closed.”

“How was I supposed to know?” she asked. “He never told me.”

“He tried to signal it,” I said.

“How?”

“What I’m about to say is difficult,” I warned.

“Because he felt you didn’t care about him, the way he expressed that pain was by showing you that he could manage on his own.”

“In what way?” she asked.

“By building a separate world,” I answered. “The cycling group you mentioned. The trips. The independence. All of this was meant to say: look, I don’t need you. I can manage without you.”

“He developed an escape,” I continued, “and unintentionally created a paradox.”

“What paradox?” she asked.

“He was trying to show you his lack by proving independence. But what you saw was a man who didn’t need you at all.”

“That’s exactly how it felt,” she said. “I thought he was fine without me.”

“And that caused you to distance yourself,” I said.

When Needs Become Threatening

“But we were in couples therapy,” Elinor protested. “I told him that the thing that bothered me most was his obsession with cycling.”

“And I told you I feel lonely in this relationship,” Tzvika responded. “And nothing changed.”

“At this stage,” I said, “even though Elinor now understands what you need, she can’t give it to you.”

“Why not?” Tzvika asked.

“Because she feels you’re trying to extract caring from her. And when caring is demanded, it becomes impossible to give.”

“She felt suffocated,” I explained. “Your need felt overwhelming. As if you wanted all of her, all the time.”

“I wasn’t neglecting him on purpose,” Elinor burst out. “I was raising children. I had a life.”

“Heaven forbid that I’m blaming you,” I said. “This isn’t about fault. It’s about unmet needs creating a cycle where neither of you can meet the other.”

Helplessness as the Turning Point

“I’ve had enough therapy,” Tzvika said bitterly. “They all tried to engineer me. Cycle less. Be home more. Talk differently. I’m exhausted. I just want to be myself.”

“The solution isn’t fixing behaviors one by one,” I replied. “It’s ascending to a new dimension in the relationship.”

“All your attempts to demonstrate your need,” I said gently, “only deepened the gap between you.”

“I feel helpless,” Tzvika admitted.

“That helplessness,” I said, “is exactly where the solution begins.”

“How?” he asked.

“Helplessness forces a person to seek something new,” I explained. “It opens a place in the soul that hasn’t been accessed before.”

Redefining Connection

“Your loneliness doesn’t mean Elinor must rescue you,” I continued. “Who said her role is to pull you out of loneliness?”

“But if I’m lonely, I need connection,” he said.

“Exactly,” I replied. “So choose to create connection. Take interest in her. See her. Care about her.”

“When you stop trying to receive something from her,” I said, “she’ll feel that you simply care, without demands. And that restores her ability to give.”

“This begins with a shift in perspective,” I concluded. “The solution to loneliness isn’t found in the other person. It’s found in the decision to seek connection.”

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