Why People Seek Therapy: A Surprising Perspective

This week, I want to share the story of Shai and Rinat.

They came to marriage counseling after eight years of marriage. Rinat was the one who initiated therapy. She described an overwhelming sense of helplessness that finally pushed her to seek help.

“I Never Felt Chosen”

“From the very beginning of our relationship,” Rinat explained, “I felt that Shai wasn’t truly connected to me.”

Whenever Shai became involved in business projects or investments, his mind was consumed with stress. According to Rinat, he never harmed her or belittled her. He treated her respectfully. But she felt invisible.

“I never really mattered,” she said. “He doesn’t make time to give attention, to care, to ask how I’m doing, or to spend meaningful time together.”

Over the years, Rinat tried everything she could think of to engage him. She cleaned the house meticulously. She worked a job that brought in significant income. She wrote him heartfelt letters. She invested effort in her appearance.

These attempts would sometimes bring short term results. Shai would smile warmly and compliment her. But soon after, he would retreat back into his world of business and responsibilities.

Eventually, Rinat reached emotional exhaustion.

“I don’t have the strength to chase after him anymore. If he doesn’t want me, then he doesn’t have to.”

When the Pain Extends to the Children

But the situation became more complicated.

“It’s one thing if I don’t interest him,” Rinat said quietly. “I’ve made peace with that. But he doesn’t seem to care about the kids either. That’s unbearable.”

She felt especially concerned about their oldest son, Dany.

Dany had been an only child for five years before his sisters were born. He was used to full attention and admiration. Now, he struggled deeply when he was not the center of his mother’s world.

He acted out constantly. He bothered his sisters. He created chaos in the house.

Rinat tried everything. Therapeutic horseback riding. Occupational therapy. Emotional therapy. Swimming lessons. Nothing changed the behavior.

Meanwhile, Shai seemed unaffected. Calm. Detached. Focused on his pursuits.

“I feel like I’m going crazy,” Rinat admitted.

The Shabbat Night That Broke Her

Then came the Shabbat dinner that finally shattered her.

Rinat had worked tirelessly preparing a beautiful meal. She carefully accommodated everyone’s preferences. One child disliked eggplant. One wanted sweet food. One refused fish. One insisted on salmon. She prepared everything.

At the same time, she was cleaning, mopping, organizing the children, washing dishes, serving food, calming arguments, and trying to maintain order before candle lighting.

When she asked Shai for help, he did help, but slowly, at his own pace, seemingly unaware of the urgency.

Then Shabbat began.

Shai enjoyed the salads and fish dishes she had worked so hard to prepare. He focused on his plate. Rinat, however, saw everything happening around her.

Dany was eating with his hands deliberately. He pulled the tablecloth. He spilled soda across the table. Then he began kicking his sisters under the table.

Rinat tried to stay calm. She signaled to Shai to step in. He did not respond.

Suddenly, overwhelmed, she walked over to Dany and slapped him hard.

“It wasn’t discipline,” she said, crying. “It was an explosion. I felt like I was losing control over my entire life.”

What Did Rinat Really Want?

When I asked Rinat what she wanted from therapy, her answer was clear.

She wanted security.

Security that Shai would desire her, love her, and value her.

Security that Dany would listen and behave in ways that did not overwhelm her.

Security that she herself would never lose control again.

The Illusion of Control

People often come to therapy seeking control because they believe control will give them security.

Before coming to therapy, Rinat had already tried different forms of control. She attempted to manage her husband’s behavior so that she would feel loved and wanted. When that failed, she shifted her focus to controlling Dany, hoping that his compliance would restore her sense of stability.

When both attempts failed, she came to therapy with one unspoken request:

Please give me back control. Make my husband change. Make my son behave. Fix me so I never lose control again.

But is that the role of a therapist?

Am I here to change Shai?

To engineer Dany’s behavior?

To program Rinat so she controls every emotion?

No.

And honestly, I cannot.

So What Is the Therapist’s Role?

My role is to ask questions.

Questions that serve several essential purposes.

First, to create an atmosphere of clean acceptance, free of judgment. Rinat was extremely self critical. She did not appreciate herself. The more she could experience compassion and acceptance in therapy, the less she would need constant validation from her husband.

Second, to gently explore her fears. What happens inside you when Shai leaves the house? What does it mean about you when Dany acts out? These questions help shift the focus inward. They reveal that trying to control others will never produce lasting security.

Third, to explore childhood experiences. Often, our deepest fears are rooted in earlier wounds. When pain is spoken about openly, it begins to lose its power. There is also a profound realization that much of our behavior is shaped by what we experienced growing up. That understanding reduces self blame and harsh self judgment.

Real Security Comes From Within

True security does not come from controlling a spouse or a child.

It comes from developing inner stability, self acceptance, and emotional awareness.

When a person learns to see themselves with compassion rather than criticism, they no longer depend entirely on others to feel worthy or safe.

And paradoxically, when control loosens, connection often strengthens.

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