At the age of 55, he broke down: "I've been living with a woman who doesn't love me for 30 years. What do I do?"

Not everything that is right is right to do; sometimes the truth is clear, but reality is more complex.

"I have to run away – but will it break me?"

He walked into my room with a heavy step. His body was broad, tall, strong. But something in him was off. A 55-year-old man who had seen it all in his life, but his eyes? They were tired. I saw them. I saw how he sat, how his hands trembled slightly when he placed them on the table. How every breath he took felt like a battle.

And then he said it, in a low, almost broken voice:

"I have to get a divorce. I can't take it anymore."

I didn't need to hear more than that. I know these stories. Many people come to me when they are already broken. Not when they are hesitating, not when they are asking – when they are already drowning.

But something in him was different. He wasn't sure of himself. He said, "I have to get a divorce," but his words trembled. He said, "I can't take it anymore," but his whole body was asking me to tell him something else. Something that would give him light, something that would tell him what to do when he couldn't see the way.

"I've felt trapped for 30 years."

"Tell me," I said to him. "What happened now?"

He closed his eyes, like someone searching within himself for the strength to speak. Then he exhaled.

"Thirty years I've been married to a woman who doesn't love me."

"What does that mean?"

"I live next to her, not with her. I pay the bills, I bring food home, I get up in the morning for work and come back – and there's no one there waiting for me. There's no one who cares if I'm alive or dead."

He paused for a moment. I see how he swallows the saliva, how his breathing becomes heavier.

And then he said:

"I'm 55 years old. How many years do I have left to live? I want to live at least once before I die."

I stayed silent for a few seconds, letting him hear himself.

And then I asked:

"So why are you still staying?"

He looked at me as if the worst nightmare had just hit him.

"What do you mean? Because I'm scared! Because I don't know what will happen with the kids, because I don't know how I'll live alone. Because I don't know if I'll even manage to be alone after 30 years."

Here it is.

The question is not whether it is right to get divorced. The question is – is it right for you now?

Not every truth is reality.

The general truth says – if you're suffering, get out of it. But the personal truth says – if you do it now, will it break you? Will it crush you? Are you really ready for it?

I don't believe in throwing people into the water without checking if they can swim. Sometimes you don't need to jump right away. Sometimes you need to build yourself up first so that the jump isn't a free fall into an abyss.

It's true not only in relationships – it's true in every area of life.

Work – there are people who wake up every morning to a job they hate. They know it wears them down, it drains their soul. So yes, they need a change. But can they just get up now and leave without a plan? Without knowing how they will support themselves?

Living – there are people who live in a place that doesn't suit them, a place that distances them from themselves. But can they just pack a suitcase and leave without knowing how they will manage?

New lives – there are people who dream of traveling to another place, starting a new chapter. But are they mentally strong enough to do it now?

Relationships – People sometimes feel they need to cut friendships or family ties. But is it the right time? Are they really ready for the consequences of that?

How to know if I am acting out of fear or out of strength?

A question for everyone: "If I weren't afraid – would I still make the same decision?"

If the answer is yes, then you are probably really ready. If the answer is no, then maybe it's better to wait and build yourself up a bit more.

So how do you make the right decision?

I told him:

"Let's do an exercise for a moment. Close your eyes, and imagine that you are already divorced. You are in another house, alone. There is no woman next to you, there is no sound of people in the house, you are independent – but alone."

He closes his eyes. A few seconds pass, and then I see his face contort.

He opens his eyes quickly.

"I... I don't know if I'm capable."

Close your eyes again, and imagine yourself five years from now. What does your life look like if you made the decision? What does it look like if you didn't make the decision? Which option feels more right to you?

So what do we do? If not now – then when?

I smile at him a small smile.

"You see? It's not a matter of right or wrong – it's a matter of readiness."

"So what am I supposed to do? Keep suffering?"

"No. You are supposed to strengthen yourself. You are supposed to build yourself up, so that if and when you decide to get out of this – it will be out of strength, not out of weakness."

The big message – Don't destroy yourselves in the name of "truth"

There are things that are absolutely true. But there is also the right time for everything. Not everything that seems clear to you in your mind is right for your body and emotions at that moment.

Sometimes the right thing to do is to do nothing. Sometimes the best thing is to let time do its work – to build yourself slowly, and then make a decision from a place of strength, not weakness.

"I meet people whose lives have been completely destroyed. Even before, they lived broken lives, but what worsened their situation was the fact that they listened only to their intellect and ignored their body and true abilities. They didn't stop to ask themselves: 'Am I really capable of doing what I do?'"

So if you are facing a difficult decision, ask yourself not only 'What is right?' but also 'What is right for me now?' because the truth is not always as clear as it seems, and sometimes the strength lies not in jumping but in waiting.