In any marriage, we occasionally get hurt by our spouse. It’s an unavoidable part of two people building a life together. Usually, the hurt is entirely unintentional, but it happens. Yet, the deepest pain we experience often doesn't come from the original misstep, but from the reaction we receive when we try to share our feelings.
The Cycle of Sharing Hurt and Encountering Defensiveness
Have you ever had the experience of gently telling your husband or wife about something that upset you, trying your hardest to speak respectfully and without blame, only to end up on the receiving end of a defensive attack?
The cycle usually looks something like this:
The Reversal: You try to express feeling hurt (even if you acknowledge it was unintentional), but suddenly, you become the "perpetrator" in his story.
The Deflection: You become responsible for hurting him by supposedly accusing him of doing something wrong.
The Dismissal: Your pain is completely ignored; the entire focus shifts to his feeling "accused" or criticized.
The Rupture: What began as a sincere bid to create closeness and improve your shalom bayis devolves into a painful emotional battle.
Instead of empathy, understanding, or a simple apology, you are met with anger and rejection. What you’d hoped would foster connection has catapulted you both into a state of conflict, leaving you fighting for your own emotional survival and the stability of the relationship.
When the "Right" Words Don't Work
If you’re someone who has lived this reality time and time again, it can be incredibly hard to know how to move forward. You want to make your spouse aware of the ways he unintentionally hurts you so he can adjust, but it feels impossible to do so without triggering a massive fight.
I’m going to assume you’ve already tried explaining this pattern to him/her. You’ve probably used analogies—like accidentally stepping on someone’s toe. You explain that even if the person didn't mean to do it, it still hurts, and a basic apology is expected. You’ve likely gone out of your way to reassure him that this is not a critique of his middos or his/her adequacy as a husband/wife, but simply a need for your feelings to be acknowledged. But what if none of that works? Which, unfortunately, it often doesn't.
The Instinct to Fix and Over-Explain
We explain the situation in a hundred different ways, holding onto the hope that if we just find the perfect phrasing, or the perfect time to speak, s/he will finally understand.
We wait for the moment s/he realizes that our hurt isn't a reflection of his/her shortcomings, but simply about us needing to be heard. We imagine that once s/he "gets it," we’ll finally be able to exhale.
But often, that shift never happens. The defenses never relent. Instead of an apology, we receive blame for the negative experience he thinks we are forcing upon them. Time and again, we open our mouths to build a bridge, only to end up more wounded and lonelier than before.
Accepting Our True Locus of Control
As we learn from countless mussar teachings, we cannot change another person. The only person we have control over is ourselves. This is easy to understand intellectually, but incredibly difficult to accept in our hearts.
This realization is not meant to induce guilt—we already carry enough of that when dealing with a defensive spouse. Rather, it’s about empowering ourselves to recognize where we might be contributing to a dysfunctional dynamic. We must ask ourselves: What part am I playing in all this? How am I enabling this cycle to continue?
This requires accepting a painful truth: we cannot force our spouse to change if s/he is unready or unwilling. We have to recognize that no matter how articulate, soft-spoken, or carefully timed our explanations are, we are not going to receive the empathy we crave. His own insecurities, shame, or fear of inadequacy might simply be too daunting for him/her to confront.
Before we go any further, however, I must insist that we approach this self-reflection with profound dan l'kaf zechus —starting with ourselves.
When we fall into these enabling patterns, we aren't doing it because it feels good. We do it out of a desperate, deep-seated drive to maintain shalom bayis and protect our children. The overwhelming feeling is that we must restore calm in the home and get back to "okay" at all costs—even if that cost is abandoning our own emotional needs. We will address how to break that cycle, gently and effectively, next time.
