Who Am I When I Stop Deciding for Everyone?

This week begins with the story of Shmuel and Leah. As always, identifying details have been changed.

They entered my clinic and dropped heavily into their chairs. The tension in the room was unmistakable.

“I Feel Humiliated”

Leah sighed deeply before speaking.
“I’m struggling with the feeling that I’m being humiliated in front of the children.”

“Humiliated?” Shmuel reacted in disbelief. “Since when do I humiliate anyone?”

“It happens all the time,” Leah replied. “I reprimand the kids, and you contradict me in front of them.”

“What do you mean?” Shmuel asked, still stunned. “When the government makes decisions and the Supreme Court challenges them, does that mean the Court humiliates the government? Of course not.”

“Of course it does,” Leah shot back. “Isn’t that exactly what all the chaos in this country is about? I’m the one carrying the responsibility for the children. I’m with them all day. Cooking, worrying, laundry, baths, bedtime. You come and go, help when you can, and then return to your world. So how do you get to decide? And why do you confuse the children?”

“So basically,” Shmuel said angrily, “you want me to have no say at home. You want complete control.”

“Yes,” Leah said firmly. “A person decides in the place where they invest. Your heart and mind are in the kollel you manage. That’s where you decide. At home, you’re like a guest who speaks like a landlord.”

“You know what?” Shmuel replied sharply. “I completely agree. I resign from the Supreme Court and move to the government. But I’m passing a new law. You won’t be allowed to complain that I’m not present enough at home.”

“Stop with the cynicism,” Leah snapped.

“You started it,” Shmuel answered. “Yes, I’m the head of the kollel. I’m not home all day, and I also bring in a decent salary. We both know you’re happy that I both study and provide. And despite everything, I make a real effort to come home early, to talk to the kids, to hear what’s on their minds. I can’t just stay silent. They want to know what I think. If you want me to shut up, then fine. But I won’t listen either.”

“There’s a difference between listening and participating versus deciding,” Leah responded. “And today, you did the opposite of what I told them just half an hour earlier.”

“So now you want to decide which words I’m allowed to say?” he asked sarcastically.

A Choice of Paths

The argument could have continued endlessly. No one would have won. Only damage would remain.

I stopped them.

“There are two paths we can take,” I said. “One is that I put on the judge’s robe and decide who is right and who is wrong. The other is to step away from judgment and enter a deeper exploration of emotions. It won’t be easy. It requires courage and honesty. But in my experience, it’s meaningful.”

Interestingly, Leah was the first to agree.

“Yes,” she said decisively. “That’s exactly why we came to you. Not for advice, but for understanding.”

“Before we begin,” I said, “I need to ask something important. Do you want this process in order to understand your emotional world and help yourself? Or because you want your husband to understand your feelings and change? Or perhaps because you want him to understand himself and change?”

She was silent for a moment. Then she smiled.

“That question hit home. I came wanting him to change. But now, I choose to take responsibility for myself and explore my own feelings.”

The Need to Control

“I noticed something during your argument,” I said gently. “You use the words ‘decide’ and ‘dictate’ very often. Do you find yourself trying to determine how others should behave?”

She sighed.
“All the time.”

“And how does that make you feel?”

“I suffer. From morning until night I’m managing everyone, and it exhausts me. Almost nothing goes the way I want.”

“Can you give an example?”

“My teenage daughter. Every day it’s something new. Friends I don’t approve of, clothes I forbid, bedtime hours that drive me crazy.”

“What happens inside you when she brings home a friend you don’t like?”

“I lose my balance. I feel out of control. Sometimes I want to throw her out, or leave myself. I feel so weak that I go lie down in bed. That’s the only place I feel safe. But you can’t live in bed forever.”

“Which part of you is being shaken in those moments?” I asked.

She thought quietly.

“I feel safe when I’m in control. When my daughter brings strong personalities into the house, it touches a place that destabilizes me.”

“Was there someone who controlled you growing up?” I asked. “Or were you always the one in control?”

Her eyes widened.

“Yes. Always. I never had my own voice. Even today, I feel I must think and act according to what others expect. Now I understand why I struggle to give others independence. If I never developed my own ‘I,’ how can I allow others their freedom?”

She turned to her husband.

“I want to break this pattern. I want to give space. But now I see that the real work is building my own self. The stronger that becomes, the more space I can give others.”

A Shift in the Room

The session ended there.

The charged tension that had filled the room dissolved. In its place appeared something quieter and more mature. A shared reflection.

Rabbi Aryeh Ettinger is a consultant and the founder of a school for training couples’ counselors.