“Whoa,” Nesanel said, his voice edged with frustration as he looked around the kitchen. “The house is still a little upside down tonight.”  

Shoshie froze. I should have pushed through and gotten the kitchen cleaned before he got home.

She opened the fridge. “Let me heat up your supper.”

“I’m fine,” Nesanel said flatly.

And suddenly Shoshie wasn’t cleaning the kitchen anymore. She was reading him.

Is he upset? Should I explain how the baby barely slept today? Should I apologize? Should I ask what’s wrong?

She knew this feeling well.

It wasn’t the big arguments that exhausted her most. It was the constant pressure of making sure her husband was okay so that she could feel okay.

When she described that moment during our next coaching session, I asked what she was afraid would happen if she didn’t try to make him feel better.

Her voice caught slightly. “Maybe I’m not being a good enough wife.”

That was what made his moods feel so threatening.

If Nesanel was warm, Shoshie could relax.

If he seemed disappointed, she searched for what she had done wrong.

Once Shoshie saw what she was afraid of, she started looking at what happened when she tried to make that fear go away.

Often, the very thing she did to calm the moment was what escalated it.

Like the car ride when Nesanel was unusually quiet.

“You okay?” Shoshie asked carefully.

“Yeah,” he said, staring ahead.

A few minutes later, she tried again. “Are you sure?”

“I’m fine,” he said, more sharply.

By the third time, Nesanel exhaled in frustration. “Shoshie, I said I’m fine! Why do you keep asking me?”

And just like that, his quiet mood had become a tense moment between them.

“I think I’m making it worse,” Shoshie realized.

She thought about it for a moment. “He’s already dealing with whatever he’s dealing with. Then he sees me getting upset because he’s upset. So now he has to deal with me too.”

And suddenly she realized she wasn’t giving his mood a chance to pass on its own.

Shoshie was watching every expression, waiting for reassurance, needing him to make her feel okay.  What she thought was keeping the peace was putting him under a microscope.

A small mood became a whole event.

But that didn’t mean Shoshie had no responsibility in those moments.

She couldn’t control the mood he brought into the room. But she could choose the energy she brought to meet it.

She could decide whether she became defensive, whether she interrogated him, or whether she snapped back because his mood made her uncomfortable.

Or she could stay respectful and warm even when he wasn’t giving her the reassurance she wanted.

Instead of asking, How do I get him to be okay? she could begin asking, How do I want to show up right now?

A few nights later, she got another chance.

The baby had been difficult all afternoon, bedtime had dragged on forever, and when Nesanel came home, there were dishes in the sink and toys near the dining room.

He looked around and sighed.

Immediately, Shoshie’s mind started supplying explanations.

I didn’t sit down all afternoon. I was going to clean it before you came home.

Nesanel opened the refrigerator. “Is there anything to eat?”

Shoshie kept her voice even. “I made chicken earlier. It’s in the fridge.”

“Okay,” he said flatly.

As he heated his supper, Shoshie felt the familiar knot in her stomach.

He’s annoyed.

She wanted to ask, “Are you upset with me?” Just hearing him say no would have made her feel better.

But she stopped herself.

Maybe Nesanel was annoyed. Maybe he was tired. Maybe he had a hard day.

She didn’t actually know.  And for once, she decided not to find out.

Instead, she brought her attention back to herself.

I want to be respectful. I want to be warm. And I don’t want to chase him.

So she finished what she was doing without explaining herself or becoming cold.

Nesanel sat and ate quietly.  Normally, his silence would have pulled her right in.  This time, she let him be quiet.

A few minutes later, his expression softened.  

“Long day?” Nesanel asked.

Shoshie let out a tired breath. “Very.”

He glanced toward the hallway. “The baby’s colicky again?”

She gave a weary nod. “Barely slept.”

“That’s rough,” Nesanel said sympathetically.

Shoshie almost smiled.  The mood she had been so desperate to fix had shifted on its own.  Nesanel had been allowed to be irritated without having to explain it or reassure her about it.

And Shoshie hadn’t used his irritation as permission to become defensive, resentful, or cold.

She had let him have his mood while still being the wife she wanted to be. 

She had been picking at the moment like a scab, hoping to make it better and instead keeping it alive.

Now she began catching herself.  More and more, instead of checking Nesanel, she checked herself.

Who do I want to be right now?

And there was less pressure between them.

One evening, Nesanel came home clearly irritated.  Shoshie felt herself tense. Then she caught it.

His mood is not my emergency.

And then came the question that mattered more.

How do I want to show up?

She greeted him warmly and went back to what she was doing. 

Ten minutes later, Nesanel came into the kitchen, his shoulders softer.

“Sorry I’m so cranky,” he said. “Today was brutal.”

A few months earlier, Shoshie would have spent those ten minutes trying to pull that explanation out of him.

This time, she had let him have his mood while taking responsibility for her own response. And he came toward her on his own.

Sometimes the small shift isn’t getting your husband into a better mood.

It’s letting his mood belong to him while remembering that how you show up still belongs to you.

If you're reading this and thinking, “Yes… this is exactly how I've been feeling…” you don't have to figure it out alone.

You can schedule a Free Marriage Breakthrough Call with me here.

Let’s talk about how to show up as the woman you want to be even when he’s having a hard day.