Always Saying Yes: Why It Creates Distance in Marriage

"I really don't understand what she wants from me," Noam said, leaning back in his chair. "I do everything for her. I almost never say no. Yet she says I'm not connected to her."

Michal sat across from him and nodded quietly.

"I don't feel like he's against me," she said. "I feel like he's simply not with me."

"Let's go back to the last time you felt that," I said.

Noam paused for a moment.

"It was last Shabbat. The whole week I was under incredible pressure at work. I had been looking forward to Shabbat all week. I just wanted some peace and quiet. After the Shabbat meal, all I wanted was to go into the bedroom, read for a little while, and rest."

"And what did you tell Michal?"

He smiled awkwardly.

"I didn't tell her that."

"So what did you say?"

"I said, 'Sure, let's take the kids out for a walk.'"

"And what happened once you went out?"

"At first I tried to be present. But inside, I was already somewhere else. I was exhausted. I had shut down. I barely spoke."

Michal nodded.

"That's exactly what happens. He does things for me, but I don't feel like he's really with me."

I turned to Noam.

"Do you notice what happened?"

He remained silent.

"You were trying to create closeness, but the very way you tried to create it ended up creating distance."

"Why?" he asked.

"Because closeness isn't built when someone erases himself. Closeness is built when a person genuinely brings himself into the relationship."

"But if I had told her I wanted to rest, she would have been upset."

"Maybe," I replied. "But let me ask you a deeper question. Why is it so difficult for you when someone you love is disappointed in you?"

He thought for a moment.

"Because if she's disappointed in me, I feel like something must be wrong with me."

I nodded.

"And that's the real root of it. You're not only trying to make her happy. You're using her reaction as proof that you're a good person, someone who is loved and worthy.

You're not truly afraid of her disappointment. You're afraid of what her disappointment might mean about you."

Michal looked at him with surprise.

"I never saw it that way."

When Giving Is Really Fear

"From the outside," I said, "it looks like generosity. But sometimes tremendous giving is driven by tremendous fear. The fear that if we aren't exactly what people expect us to be, we'll lose our place in their lives."

"I really hate disappointing people," Noam admitted.

"I want to sharpen that a little. It's not that you hate disappointing people. You're afraid to discover that you're still worthy even when someone is disappointed in you."

He sat quietly.

"And that also explains why you so quickly tell yourself you have no choice."

He nodded.

"That's true."

"Listen to the way you tell the story. You say, 'I had to go.' 'I had no other option.'"

"But I did."

"Exactly. That's a very important moment. Feeling like you have no choice protects you from the pain of taking responsibility for your own choice.

It's much easier to believe someone else took something from you than to admit, 'I chose to give myself up because I was afraid of the other person's reaction.'"

I paused.

"And then what happens?"

"I get angry."

"At whom?"

"At her."

"Because inside, it feels like she took something from you. But the truth is, she didn't take it. You gave it away without ever acknowledging that you were choosing to do so."

He slowly nodded.

"And that's what creates distance. Not the sacrifice itself, but the fact that you sacrificed something without taking ownership of the decision."

Michal looked at him.

"So basically, I'm receiving something from him that he doesn't really want to give."

"Exactly. And that's deeply confusing in a marriage. Your actions say, 'I'm with you,' but your presence says, 'I'm only here because I have to be.'"

Healthy Boundaries Strengthen Relationships

Noam looked at Michal.

"This happens with your family too. Last week, when your brother got stranded because of his car, I immediately rushed over to help."

"What was important to you that morning?" I asked.

"I wanted to daven peacefully."

"And what happened?"

"I helped him. I made phone calls. I drove. I waited. By the end, my entire morning was gone."

"Could you have stopped after a certain point?"

"Yes."

"Could you have said, 'I'm happy to help, but I need to leave in thirty minutes'?"

He nodded.

"Yes."

"So why didn't you?"

He smiled sadly.

"Because I was hoping they would understand on their own."

"That's a very deep pattern," I explained. "You give, but underneath that giving is the hope that someone will finally notice you, appreciate how much you've sacrificed, and protect you without your ever having to ask."

"And that almost never happens."

"That's right. Because people cannot respect boundaries you never communicate."

Choosing Instead of Reacting

"So what do you do?" Noam asked.

"You don't try to eliminate your people pleasing. It probably developed for a good reason. At one point in your life, it helped you preserve connection and feel emotionally safe.

"But now you need to develop another ability alongside it. The ability to choose."

"How?"

"Start with a brief pause before you answer someone. Just a few seconds to ask yourself, 'What do I really want right now?'"

"And if I realize I want something different from what's being asked of me?"

"Then you've discovered the truth. And now you can choose."

"And if I still decide to give it up?"

"Then tell yourself, 'I'm choosing to give this up today.'"

"Why is that so important?"

"Because the moment you choose, you remain the owner of your life. The moment you convince yourself you had no choice, you make the other person responsible for a price you willingly agreed to pay."

A smile spread across his face.

"That changes everything."

I smiled back.

"And there's one more thing. I want you to begin practicing something that may feel uncomfortable. Every so often, allow yourself to be less than perfect in other people's eyes."

He laughed.

"That sounds difficult."

"It is. For many years you've believed your worth depends on keeping everyone happy.

"So start with something small.

"'This Shabbat, I need to rest.'

"'I'd love to help, but I can only stay until a certain time.'

"Say it without over explaining. Without apologizing. Without rushing to rescue the other person from feeling disappointed."

"And what if Michal gets upset?"

"Then let her be upset."

He looked at me.

"Is that really okay?"

"Yes. The people you love are allowed to experience emotions that make you uncomfortable. Their disappointment does not mean you've failed. It does not mean you're a bad person. It simply means you're two real people building a real relationship."

Michal turned toward him.

"I don't need you to always say yes. I need to know that when you say yes, it's really you."

He looked back at her.

"Maybe all these years I was afraid that if I said no, it would push you away."

I looked at both of them.

"And sometimes, it was those reluctant yeses, the ones that didn't truly come from you, that created the very distance you were trying so hard to avoid."

Chana Dayan is a marital therapist and relationship counselor.