When One Partner Can’t Breathe: Anxiety as a Relationship Signal

This week, I would like to share the story of Reuven and Leah.

They came to see me because Leah was experiencing breathing difficulties. She described a feeling that she could no longer cope with life.

“I don’t see a reason to go to a doctor,” Leah said at the beginning of the session. “I feel this is emotional. I’m under stress, and that’s what’s causing everything.”

“What are you stressed about?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she answered. “That’s why we came to you.”

Who Is Really in the Room?

As I began exploring their life together, something striking emerged. Although Leah had initiated the meeting and appeared deeply distressed, it was Reuven who was very present in the session. He spoke openly about his struggles, while Leah seemed to be there mainly for him.

At one point, I turned to Leah and reflected on what I was noticing.

She sighed and remained silent.

“What’s happening for you right now?” I asked.

“It’s not important,” she replied. “I don’t feel secure enough to share.”

The Fear Beneath the Silence

“So I have an idea,” I said gently. “You don’t need to tell me what happened. But can you tell me why you don’t feel secure sharing? What are you afraid will happen if you do?”

“Yes, I can answer that,” Leah said. “I’m afraid because I don’t think my husband can stand this bitter woman.”

“Talk,” Reuven said immediately. “I really want to hear.”

Leah then began describing a major struggle in her life.

“I have outbursts. I’m angry at my husband, angry at the kids. I shout uncontrollably. It’s become unbearable.”

When Security Comes at a Cost

“What made it unbearable now?” I asked.

“What do you mean?” she replied. “Because my husband can’t stand me anymore.”

“And if he can’t stand you,” I asked, “what happens then?”

“I might lose him.”

At first, I assumed Leah’s suffering stemmed from her own exhaustion and pain. But her response revealed something deeper. Her distress was not centered on herself, but on the fear of losing her husband.

A Quiet Imbalance

I then turned to both of them.

“Do you usually talk with each other?” I asked.

“Of course,” Reuven answered quickly.

“Who speaks more, and who listens more?” I continued.

“I think it’s about the same,” he said.

“The same?” I asked.

“That’s how it seems to me.”

I turned to Leah. “What do you think?”

“I know the answer,” she said quietly, “but I’m afraid to say it.”

The Illusion of Harmony

“Because he speaks more than ninety percent of the time, and I mostly listen,” Leah continued. “But I’m afraid to change that, because it gives me security.”

“What kind of security?” I asked.

“That by listening to him, I know he wants me.”

“And why would that make him want you?”

“Because I contain him. I listen. Then it’s worth it for him to be close to me.”

At that point, I turned to Reuven.

“Have you noticed this dynamic?”

“Let’s assume that’s true,” Reuven said. “What’s the problem? I talk, she listens. I feel good, she feels good. Why disturb the harmony?”

And here I turn to you, the reader. When Leah cannot breathe, is that harmony?

Building Space Without Fear

What unfolded in this process was a deep understanding of Leah’s dependency and her fear of being abandoned, alongside Reuven’s role in sustaining that dependency.

Together, they sustain this dance.

Leah’s breathing difficulties became the signal that this structure was no longer sustainable.

The therapeutic work focused on strengthening the inner spine of each partner. As this develops, dependency decreases. Reuven can begin to tolerate Leah taking up space, and Leah can slowly risk expressing herself without fearing abandonment.

As her fear softens, her breath can return.

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