Hello,

My partner and I are on our fourth AEQ program this year, and our third together. Last summer, I faced the truth and confronted the illusion I had been building. We each had our own way of disconnecting from ourselves, our partnership, and our family—and because we did this for years, the situation only worsened. Both personally and professionally, as our lives are deeply intertwined. Now we try to separate them as much as possible, because it feels easier that way.

Through AEQ, I understand more clearly what my share of responsibility is in this story. Of course, it’s multifaceted. I often played the role of the victim in the eyes of others—tired, hard-working, pleasing everyone, fulfilling both spoken and unspoken wishes. At the same time, I recharged my energy through work I was developing and through relationships that weren’t family-based. I leaned on various spiritual practices (reiki, yoga…) to keep going. And that was the problem—I gained just enough energy to endure, without changing the environment where I was exhausted (my family). Now I understand that this was a misuse of those techniques—today I use them consciously for change. I also understand my and my partner’s second- and third-level emotions better—who we are and who we want to become. And I see how we choose our partners based on the second-level emotions of our parents. I recognize how I misused feminine manipulation with my partner due to my emotional immaturity.

My partner, in turn, escaped into physical labor to the point of extreme exhaustion, marijuana use, scrolling through social media, pornography, and eventually an affair with another woman.

When I received his confession—confirming what I had sensed about the affair—we put our relationship on ice. It was clear we couldn’t go on like before. I feel like I’m mostly the one who gives and makes decisions about our relationship and family.

We’re still walking through the consequences of everything we’ve built. Alongside AEQ, we’ve also attended various forms of therapy for support. We were both willing to work on ourselves, our relationship, and our family. That’s crucial for me, and I’m committed to continuing. We are seeing progress in our relationship, but it truly feels slow. Very slow.

We have two sons. The hardest part for me is watching them—especially their relationship. No matter how well they sometimes support each other and stick together, their relationship is also very unhealthy. What has become habitual for them now feels normal. For example, the older son constantly puts the younger one down with cruel words and physical aggression (full-on bullying), while the younger one whines, screams, and often provokes. It’s a circus, and it’s clear to me that this reflects and reacts to our relationship. We’re both full of aggression—my partner shows it through actions and words, and I suppressed most of mine until I’d explode like crazy at the kids. I regret passing on so much dysfunction to them. I regret that they’ve formed such patterns of what is “normal.” I talk openly with them, guide them—I try to do the best I can, and I’m committed to finding new ways of communicating with each of them so that they can truly hear me. At the same time, I know that example matters.

Also: our youngest son has had trouble breathing since infancy—we remind him not to breathe through his mouth, he snores at night, and in recent years he has been gaining excess weight. The older one started slouching this year, and we keep reminding him about his posture—he’s thinner. I’ve started to see them both as a better version of me, of us. I also look at my partner with much more respect. I try to explain my insights and understanding to him, to guide rather than lecture, judge, or fall into the victim role. In such conversations, I’m still the one who speaks more—I don’t know how to encourage him to open up so I can hear what he thinks.

He says it’s hard for him to express himself, and during those talks he often asks, “Will anything ever be good enough for you?”

I can see that when we resolve something, when we grasp it, we can move forward—and I assume that’s the purpose of life: there is no end, as long as the heart beats.