Navigating Conflict: The Deeper Values Behind Your Fights

"I’m here alone again, the only one trying, talking, and caring. He just remains silent, or gets angry and reacts like a wild animal. There’s no middle ground," it sounds like Yael has repeated these phrases so many times.

"It’s not like that at all. I just feel like nothing is ever good enough for her, so what’s the point of trying?" Roy mumbled.

I hold back the response bubbling on my tongue because I know this isn’t just another fight; it’s a snapshot of a much deeper story.

"Yael, how do you feel when Roy remains silent?"

"I feel like he’s tired of me, as if he regrets his choice and that I’m too much for him," Yael replied, biting her lip.

"Roy, what goes through you when you hear that?" I asked Roy.

"That I’m always disappointing her," he answered.

"And how does that make you feel?" I asked.

"That I’m not worth it," he answered.

"Yael, what do you actually need from Roy?"

"I need him to see me, to choose me, and to want to know what I’m going through without me having to ask him," she replied.

"And what happens when he doesn’t do that?" I asked.

"I feel invisible, like he doesn’t see me," she answered.

"And how do you behave when that pain arises?" I asked.

"Either I criticize him and come to him with complaints, or I stay silent and retreat, or I cry."

"Roy, what goes through you when she’s silent or crying?" I asked.

"That I’ve ruined things again and she’s upset with me again."

"And then how do you act?" I asked.

"I shut down, feeling like no matter what I do – I’ll still be in trouble," he answered.

"Do you notice what’s happening here? Each of you entered this relationship with a wound, and without realizing it – that wound found an address for healing with your partner, but also became the biggest threat.

"Yael, maybe without saying it in words, you had a dream: that this relationship would heal the place where you weren’t seen, that you would be loved unconditionally. Especially when something isn’t working, it’s not just a small frustration; there’s anxiety involved. Because if he doesn’t see you, maybe no one ever will."

Yael didn’t reply. Tears streamed down her face, speaking for her.

"Roy, when you feel she’s disappointed in you, you don’t just feel that she’s disappointed in you right now; you’re really thrown back to that old child who felt unworthy, as if you’re being told again that you’re nothing."

Roy fell silent, and it was clear how the pain choked him and rose in his throat.

"You’re not really arguing over silence, over help at home, or over not being seen, but rather, you’re fighting for your value, for your place in the world, through the eyes of your partner," I explained.

"How do we get out of this?" Yael asked, feeling the trap.

"We don’t get out; we go in," I replied with a smile.

"Go in?" she asked in surprise.

"We’ll learn not to run from the pain but to stop projecting it onto each other."

"So Yael doesn’t really get mad that I’m not initiating, but just wants to know that I chose her, without her having to ask for it," Roy said.

"And Roy doesn’t really withdraw from me and doesn’t want me; he’s just afraid of being that same guy who couldn’t make it," Yael said.

"When you succeed in seeing your wounded inner child, you stop being a wounded husband or wife and become partners who understand themselves. When you can understand yourselves, you can enter a mindset of building, rather than one of survival clinging to each other."

"But how can we build something new?" Yael asked.

"By choice! When I stop waiting for my partner to prove my worth, I can express pain without projecting it. When I don’t need them to heal me – I can be open to truly loving."

"If you could, for just a moment, sit in front of that wounded child inside you, what would you want your partner to know about it?" I turned to both of them.

"That I just wanted to feel worthy, without fighting for it," Roy answered without hesitation.

"And that I just wanted to be seen, even when I’m silent," Yael whispered.

All details have been altered to protect privacy.

Hanna Dayan [email protected]

For all columns and contact, click here