The Hidden Impatience That Erodes a Marriage

“Tell me, I don’t understand what’s missing for you. What am I not giving you? What do you lack?” Itzik asked in frustration. “You wanted a bigger house, we bought a villa. You wanted vacations abroad, you got them. There is nothing I don’t buy for you. We go out every week, we talk, we enjoy time together. So what is the problem? What are you missing?”

“These are the good things you do,” Leah responded angrily. “But what about the bad things? Do you forget that you threw all my makeup tools away when you got angry at me? That you spoke unforgivably about my mother? That you belittle my abilities and my intelligence? Should I continue?”

“I don’t understand,” Itzik snapped. “Does all of that erase everything good I’ve done? I don’t get how you dismiss everything I do for you without a second thought.”

“There are external things that need fixing,” I said to Itzik, “but the most important repair is internal. It relates to emotional impatience, something that often goes unnoticed yet slowly contaminates the atmosphere and destroys every good part of married life.”

“What do you mean by impatience?” Itzik replied. “Is there anyone more patient than me? I’ve been tolerating all her quirks for twenty years.”

Looking Beyond the Visible Problems

“Look at the verse that speaks directly about repentance,” I said. “‘And Hashem your God will circumcise your heart and the heart of your descendants, to love Hashem your God with all your heart and with all your soul, so that you may live.’ When we speak about repentance in marriage, all the things Leah mentioned are indeed wrong, and you are aware of them. Surely you must repent for them. They are visible evils.

“But repentance seeks the root. It asks us to look for something deeper and more hidden, what Chassidut calls ‘the hidden evil,’ something that resides deep in the subconscious.”

“I know I said hurtful things,” Itzik replied. “I know I did things that hurt Leah deeply. But I never wanted to hurt her. It all came from anger. I love her. I don’t want her to suffer. If I wanted her to suffer, why would I dedicate my entire life to her? Why would I give her everything she needs and more?”

“There is an unconscious reason behind this,” I said. “We see the results, your behavior toward Leah, and that gives us a thread to follow back to the root.”

Turning to Leah, I asked, “Do you remember what happened before his outbursts? Were there any early signs?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “But I clearly remember feeling a kind of negative energy between us before he exploded.”

“You identified it correctly,” I said. “Most people do not sense these early signs. Even the primary effects are often hidden, and it is very hard to pinpoint them.”

“I still don’t understand,” Itzik said impatiently. “Where is this hidden evil? How am I supposed to find it?”

The Subtle Root

“The hidden evil lies in the soul,” I replied, “and it is revealed in the verse: ‘Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother and cleave to his wife, and they shall become one flesh.’ The problem is that somewhere deep within, each of you still feels separate. You do not fully experience yourselves as one.

“You each have your own space, your own interests, and your own internal accounting.”

“This is not an obvious problem with dramatic consequences,” I continued. “It is something very subtle. You fulfill most of your marital responsibilities. Most of the time, your attitude toward Leah is good. But somewhere inside you lives a quiet thought: we are not one, we are two.”

“So what comes out of that?” Leah asked.

“The first result is a weakening of patience,” I explained. “Patience is the most essential trait for a healthy home. A deep patience that can hold another person, allow processes, and make space for growth.

“When Itzik experiences himself as separate, a subtle selfishness emerges. Not a crude or obvious selfishness. Outwardly, he appears devoted to you. But inwardly, even after all the investment, all the effort, all the togetherness, he remains focused on himself. He keeps an internal score.”

“I don’t understand how that can be,” Itzik said. “I accommodate her so much. I talk with her constantly. I listen endlessly.”

“I’ll explain,” I said. “You feel the need to preserve your personal space, your inner territory. You give a great deal through actions, conversations, and even thoughts about Leah. But in the deepest place inside, there is a part where you feel comfortable being alone. You need silence and space. When Leah enters that place, impatience arises.”

“I’m impatient with you?” Itzik asked Leah. “Have you ever felt that I get angry when you talk to me?”

“You are a pleasant and respectful man,” I said to him. “But somewhere in your heart, there is impatience. Deep down, a quiet thought appears: when will she stop talking?

“An honorable man never says that out loud. He keeps smiling. But that inner place that prefers peace and solitude over shared presence is the hidden root of the problem.”

How It Affects the Home

“And that’s why he behaves like this toward me?” Leah asked.

“Yes. His actions are branches of that root.

“When there is true unity, patience flows naturally. When patience weakens, tension appears.

“You feel, Leah, that it is hard for him to contain your presence. And you sense the unspoken message: when will you stop talking? You feel his lack of accommodation.

“That makes you feel uninteresting to him. As though he is more comfortable with himself than with the togetherness you share.

“This poisons the atmosphere quietly. Without arguments or words, it seeps into the home. The children feel it.

“A child needs patience to grow. Space that holds him, loves him, and allows him to develop peacefully. When there is no patience between parents, it cannot exist in the home either, and resentment forms even in the children.”

“So what do we do?” Leah asked anxiously.

“What am I supposed to do?” Itzik added.

“In one sense, you cannot fix this on your own.”

“What does that mean?” he asked. “So what is the solution?”

Returning and Turning Back

“You can repent. You can return to Hashem. You can ask Hashem to help you recognize this and regret it.

“When you experience Hashem as patient, slow to anger, and waiting for your return, you receive the divine power to open your heart and make room for another.

“You are not repenting for impatience itself. Patience is the result of repentance.

“To summarize: Itzik, you were impatient with Leah. You want to return to her. Impatience is turning your back on her.”

“I never turned my back on her,” Itzik protested. “I am always facing her, always checking what else I can do.”

“Even if you face her physically,” I said, “your inner face is turned toward yourself. Toward your comfort, your quiet, your interests.

“You give attention because you feel you must, but you give it with impatience.

“Repentance is turning your face back. Saying: she interests me. Showing her a pleasant face.

“You may have stood facing her, but she saw your back in your face. Now you must truly turn toward her.”

“I do take interest in her,” Itzik said quietly. “But I don’t feel it’s mutual, and then I withdraw.”

“Patience means understanding that genuine interest does not always receive an immediate response,” I replied. “You return, and then you wait calmly. You allow trust to grow again.

“You must decide that what matters to you is the connection itself, not the results, not the returns, not the profits.”

Inspired by the pamphlet Marital Patience by Rabbi Itiel Giladi.