When Conflict Turns to Fire: Understanding Our Relationships

"Enough with the shouting already, she always raises her voice so much, as if she is possessed," Yohai said.

"I shout because you don’t respond at all, you are like a wall," Michal replied.

They entered the clinic and started arguing. In fact, they were continuing a fight that had begun at home, in the kitchen, in the car… a fight that gets a new version every week but feels exactly the same.

"I can't take this anymore, I’m throwing in the towel. Every time I try to talk, you explode on me right away," Yohai got up.

"Because you don’t actually talk. You’re busy justifying yourself, defending, and dodging, and that’s how you disappear and run away," Michal said to him.

"How can I not disappear? When there’s a fire, it’s better to run, and you're burning everything that moves," Yohai responded.

"What’s happening to you now, Michal?" I asked her gently.

"I feel like I have nowhere to land, there’s no solid ground in this relationship. There’s no hand that calms. Just fights, guilt, anger, and breakdown," she began to tear up.

"And how do you feel when she screams like that?" I turned to Yohai.

"That she hates me, and that nothing about me is enough for her. She doesn’t really want me, so it doesn’t matter how hard I try, she wants some other version, a different person," he replied.

"That’s so untrue! I just want you to be with me, to truly be present in the relationship."

"And what happens to you when you ask for presence, and Yohai runs away like that?" I asked Michal.

"I become that 8-year-old girl sitting on the steps outside the house waiting for Dad to come pick me up, and he doesn’t show up. That abandoned girl whom no one cares about," she answered.

"And you, when you hear from Michal that you’re not present with her, what awakens in you?" I asked.

"Fear, like it's all on me. If I’m not precise in meeting her needs, she will just leave me," Yohai answered.

The room became quiet, but not quiet in a disconnection way, rather in a space of truth and recognition.

"Do you see what’s happening here?" I asked. "I think you’re not really arguing with each other, but each of you is fighting with your own wounds."

"And we simply project that onto each other?" Yohai added.

"When you feel danger, each of your systems goes into ‘emergency mode.’ You take control and attack to avoid feeling abandoned again, and you disconnect to avoid feeling worthless. This isn’t really you; it’s your armor protecting you. When you enter your armor, a disconnection is created in the relationship."

"So what do you suggest we do?" Yohai asked, hoping something practical would come from this conversation.

"I suggest a small exercise. Once a day, preferably at the end of the day, without phones and without masks, just ask each other one question: When today did you feel safe with me? Or – what did you need from me but didn’t ask? It’s a kind of small practice to take off the armor and leave it on the chair."

"What will happen if suddenly each of us quickly puts our armor back on? After all, we do this automatically all the time," Michal questioned.

"I suggest you choose a secret word that signifies: wait, it’s not me against you right now, but the child inside me who is afraid. This word will help you pause for a moment and shift to a state of awareness, allowing you to breathe and feel."

They both deliberated, and it seemed they enjoyed the idea.

"Boat," Yohai suggested.

"Sunset," Michal proposed.

In the end, they both chose the word "Lotus."

"Yohai, the next time you feel like you’re suffocating, you can tell me: I’m in lotus now. And just don’t continue and don’t answer, just stay," Michal addressed him.

"And if you scream, you can also remind me that you’re in lotus, and you’re just scared and not attacking?" Yohai replied.

"I think we’ve reached a compromise," Yohai turned to me.

"This isn’t a compromise. It’s a deep intimate request, opening a door to each of your inner worlds."

Hanna Dayan [email protected]

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