A Family in Crisis: When the Child Becomes the Target

"We have a really important question," Shmuel and Hannah said as they settled into their chairs across from me at the clinic.

"What happened?" I asked.

"We’re facing a very serious dilemma," Hannah explained. "We’ve reached the point where we’re even considering sending our daughter to boarding school. But at the same time, we’re afraid to take such a step and we simply can’t decide what to do."

Before continuing, I should note that identifying details have been changed to protect the family’s privacy.

In order to understand how this couple reached the point of considering such a drastic step, I would like to take you along through several sessions we held together and introduce you to their world.

Two Very Different Personalities

The contrast between Shmuel and Hannah was immediately noticeable.

Shmuel was slender and quiet. He spoke very little and seemed to minimize his presence throughout the session. Even when I offered him a glass of water, he politely declined.

Hannah, by contrast, took charge of the situation. She had initiated the phone calls before the meeting, handled the payment, and even contacted me to ask about transportation to the clinic. She spoke with confidence and energy.

Her voice was somewhat loud, and this turned out to be a significant source of tension between the couple.

Shmuel explained that Hannah’s tone created discomfort for him.

"Whenever Hannah speaks loudly, I feel tension and rejection," he said. "It’s very hard for me."

Hannah, on the other hand, was frustrated by Shmuel’s quiet speech.

"I can barely hear him," she said. "It’s hard to live normally like that. Every time Shmuel speaks, I have to ask him several times to raise his voice. Eventually I get exhausted and have to strain just to hear him. Sometimes I just guess what he meant because I don’t have the strength to keep trying. And honestly, I can’t stand that he sounds so soft and pitiful."

Hannah’s Story

Hannah then began sharing her background.

"As long as I can remember, I’ve felt that I had no place in the world," she said. "I grew up in a very difficult home. My father was so self absorbed that he left no room for anyone else. My mother and we children spent most of our time outside the house. I did cleaning and babysitting jobs just to feel that I belonged somewhere, because home never felt like mine."

"Sometimes my father would lock the front door and not let us in. He would claim he wasn’t home, but we knew he was inside and simply didn’t want anyone around. Even when we were allowed inside, the tension in the house was so great that we preferred being anywhere else."

"This is how I grew up, without a backbone and without a sense of belonging. Shmuel was the first man I met. I had no standards. In my mind, anyone willing to take me under his wing was good enough."

"Then we got married. That marriage saved me. I felt Shmuel redeemed me. He is a wonderful husband, attentive and supportive. He is like an emotional therapist for me. I don’t know how he has so much patience. I’m unstable and difficult. I’m more of a burden than a help. How can he appreciate me? How does he even find the strength?"

The Real Struggle

"So if Shmuel is such a wonderful husband," I asked, "where is the difficulty?"

"As I said at the beginning, the problem is not Shmuel or our relationship," Hannah replied. "I wish everyone could have a marriage like ours. The difficulty is with the children, especially my oldest daughter."

"I can’t stand her," Hannah said quietly. "She brings out the worst in me. She has so many problems and I have no patience. She is lazy, overweight, disorganized. Her notebooks look terrible and her clothes are always dirty. She depends on me for everything. I have to wake her up, worry about her clothes, cut vegetables for her dinner, study with her for tests."

"We’re talking about a thirteen year old girl who behaves like a much younger child. Girls her age manage on their own and have friends to study with, but she stays behind and expects me to rescue her life. I’ve reached the point where I cannot even do the things a mother is supposed to do."

Her eyes filled with tears.

"I suddenly find myself repeating my father’s behavior. The very things I promised myself I would never do, I am doing now, maybe even worse."

She looked exhausted and helpless.

"I don’t even want to describe what happens between me and my daughter. Lately I’ve begun to understand my father. Maybe he also suffered the way I suffer. Maybe that is why he couldn’t behave differently."

She looked at me with a mixture of despair and hope.

"Tell me honestly. Is life really this hard? Do people live in such a constant nightmare? Is this what a home is supposed to be like?"

A Difficult Afternoon

I asked Hannah to describe a recent situation with her daughter.

"Just today," she said, "she came home from school and threw her backpack on the floor. Later her clothes were scattered in the hallway. I kept quiet because I was afraid of what might come out of my mouth."

"But then she decided to bake cookies. She never cleans up after herself. Just imagining the kitchen drove me crazy. I tried to say calmly that I wouldn’t allow it, but she immediately started crying."

"I tried to stay calm, but inside I felt terrible. I felt like the worst mother in the world, like some kind of cleanliness fanatic who won’t let her daughter breathe. When she kept crying, I went into my room and slammed the door."

Hannah paused.

"I’m ashamed to tell you what happened next. The door frame came loose. When I saw that, I was horrified. As angry as my father was, he never broke anything. If I’m reaching that point, maybe I need hospitalization or foster care for the children or something. I don’t know anymore."

She sighed deeply and stared into the distance like a broken person.

The Boarding School Idea

After a long silence Hannah straightened in her chair.

"This is exactly where my dilemma lies," she said. "We thought of an idea. There is an excellent educational program in the North. It is not meant for troubled families, but for parents who want to give their daughters a higher level of education."

"We thought maybe we could send Abigail there. No one would know we chose it out of distress, and maybe it would even be good for her. If I cannot be the nurturing mother she needs, why not give her something better?"

"But then I ask myself, am I really in such a terrible situation that I cannot raise my own daughter?"

She looked at me with hope.

"I feel that every day that passes without real change is a disaster. Maybe it is time to face reality and admit that I cannot continue this way."

A Different Direction

"I hear your pain," I said. "You are dealing with a very difficult reality. You carry pain, insecurity, guilt, and self criticism. For now, I suggest putting aside practical solutions and focusing on what happens between you and Shmuel."

"Between me and Shmuel?" Hannah asked in disbelief.

"I told you our relationship is good. Shmuel is a rare person and a supportive husband. He has been my emotional therapist for nearly fifteen years. There is no problem there. That is not the story."

Her posture made it clear she strongly disagreed.

"I believe you," I answered calmly. "I have no doubt your relationship is strong. But relationships are the deepest connections we have, and they are also the place where the greatest change can occur."

"I believe that within your relationship with Shmuel lies the strength that can help you reach stability within yourself and improve all your relationships, including the one with your daughter."

Despite her resistance, Hannah agreed to continue the process.

What We Discovered

Over time, important patterns became clear.

We saw that their relationship was built on patterns of appeasement and control, and of under responsibility and over responsibility.

Shmuel, who had also experienced a difficult childhood, felt secure in Hannah’s dependence on him. Having grown up with fears of abandonment, he found reassurance in being needed.

Hannah’s sense of weakness gave Shmuel a feeling of stability. He felt that she depended on him and that only he could support her.

In this way an unspoken agreement developed between them: Hannah remained needy and vulnerable, while Shmuel became the devoted protector.

Each fulfilled the emotional needs of the other.

Questions for Reflection

What do you think will happen if Shmuel and Hannah both grow stronger?

What will happen to Shmuel when he develops greater confidence and no longer fears abandonment?

What will happen to Hannah when she learns to trust herself and depend less on Shmuel for emotional support?

What will happen to their relationship? Will it weaken or deepen?

And what will happen to Hannah’s relationship with her daughter Abigail?

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