My Marriage Meltdown Moment + the Power of a Praying Mantis

Early in my marriage, a therapist friend told me, “Dan is a crockpot. You’re a deep fryer.”

I had just shared how hard it is when things feel heavy and unresolved. I get anxious and want to fix things right away, while Dan needs time and space.

I’m very intuitive, often sensing things before others do.

It’s a gift and a protection, but painful when I’m the only one who sees it, especially in marriage.

Dan’s gift is timing—patient, steady, and almost magical in its own way.

We balance each other well, but this difference can also create tension.

When Timing Meets Tension

Over the course of our marriage, when we’ve had a full-blown argument, a disagreement, or I’m feeling hurt, my own issues drive me to force a conversation, right that second.

Yet whenever Dan has begrudgingly agreed to talk immediately—because of my pressure, my distress, and my unconscious wounds and fears—it never goes well.

After learning this the hard way, I decided to wait—to let him crockpot it.

Yet I was miserable while waiting—my nervous system went into panic, and my mind raced with turmoil.

I even used to write notes about the points I wanted to make when we finally had the conversation, as if I were preparing for a trial.

I see how ridiculous that is now, but at the time, it felt very real, like my safety was being threatened.

I used to be steady, independent, and self-sufficient—so I’d wonder, what on earth happened to me?

I was experiencing attachment anxiety.

In reality, I was safe—it just felt scary.

Our most intimate relationships often reveal unconscious issues.

Due to attachment anxiety, I couldn’t truly be at peace while waiting.

I felt distracted, disturbed even, and angry not just at Dan but at myself for letting it disrupt my whole day.

Waiting for the “big talk” consumed me more than I expected.

Once Dan was ready, often days later (yes, days), his uncanny words were heart-piercing, awe-inspiring, and more than I hoped to hear or needed to feel.

Finding Peace in the Pause

So present-day Andrea is okay and at peace with the tension of not resolving difficult things right away.

Even while waiting, I’m kind and loving toward Dan, while also truly enjoying the good things in my day.

Because even though it’s important to be honest about the hard things, it’s equally important to be grateful for the good things.

The right message at the wrong time is still the wrong message.

This has become a marriage mantra.

Essentially, it’s all about timing—and honoring both of our needs.

Another marriage mantra: there is a cost to being right—and that cost is the relationship.

I wasn’t willing to compromise the miracle of my marriage because of my impatience or my need to build a case to be right.

But let’s face it—I’m human. I have to relearn the same lessons again and again, and it always surprises me when I do, as if I’m supposed to have mastered my marriage mantras once and for all.

The Meltdown Moment

This brings me to my meltdown last week.

I was in a hard place.

Despite my best efforts to protect my peace, I was spiraling.

Days passed, and while waiting for Dan to crockpot, I felt the familiar pressure-cooker panic and foreboding return.

I tried to distract myself by reading a new book, but I was becoming increasingly angry and afraid.

I kept telling myself this was an ‘exception.’

I needed to talk to him.

RIGHT NOW.

I was confused because this time felt different—urgent even.

In a way, it was different, which made everything more frustrating.

Instead of lashing out or forcing a conversation ahead of Dan’s timing, I chose to cry out to God in that moment.

I needed to trust Him and be patient—to know it was okay to be distraught.

My feelings were valid.

There’s a lot I want to say to Dan—and he to me.

But I felt God saying, Not now. Have self-control. Do not force conversations.

Even though I fear Dan won’t see it or get it.

As I was praying—asking God for patience—I left the room to do a task, and when I looked up, I saw a praying mantis on my window.

It felt like more than coincidence.

God often speaks to me through nature. As an overthinker, when I get stuck in my head, I need an external sign that’s simple and direct—like the mantis.

The timing felt divine—as if God sent that mantis as a living metaphor, whispering the very words I needed to hear as His answer to my prayer: Be still. Wait. Pray. Trust my timing.

A gentle nudge: Let this breathe—crockpot it, if you will.

God was reminding me that connection isn’t something I have to force—it can come in the quiet, in the pause.

I truly believe God responds to our honest, immediate concerns—even in something as small and meaningful as that mantis appearing.

In my moment of anxiousness, I didn’t pretend it wasn’t happening.

I released the pressure to figure it all out.

Instead, I honestly said, “God, I’m stuck and confused. I need your help.”

God isn’t just Lord over the big moments. He’s deeply involved in the ordinary details of our lives.

He wants a personal, intimate relationship with me—the real me, with my stress, fears, emotions, and daily burdens.

I was distressed, and God responded almost immediately.

He didn’t need grand gestures or dramatic displays—just a mantis on my windowsill.

His peace and power work in small, personal, even silent signs.

God is powerful and personal. He knows your worries, hears your cries, and moves in miraculous ways—even in everyday ways. 

So today, whatever feels hard, bring it to God. Be honest with your struggles—He cares deeply and knows exactly when to reach you. You just need to be patient, get still, pay attention, and trust the gentle unfolding of His work.

As a therapist, I understand how difficult it is to sit with the fear and discomfort, especially when our hearts long for connection or clarity.

We want answers.

We want change.

We want to be seen and heard.

We want safety and security.

But sometimes, God does His most sacred work in the waiting.

Maybe you’re carrying something heavy or unsaid.

Maybe you’re afraid nothing will change unless you force it.

Let the praying mantis remind you: patience is not inaction.

Sometimes the holiest thing we can do is trust God’s timing and hold space for what’s not ready yet.

The mantis reminds me to listen and be still.

It’s as if God is saying:

“You don’t need to force this. I’m working in both of your hearts. There will be a right time for those words, but now is a time to pause, not push.”

My fear that Dan “doesn’t get it” or won’t change is so real and human. Perhaps you have similar fears—marital, familial, financial, or professional.

Our role isn’t to control the outcome—it’s to hold the space and trust the process unfolding in the silence.

Conversations that matter often take root when they aren’t forced.

So today, whether you’re waiting on answers, healing, or connection, remember the praying mantis.

Embrace the pause.

Surrender to the process.

Waiting isn’t easy. It tests our patience, stretches our faith, and asks us to lean into uncertainty.

But in this space, transformation happens—not just inside you, but in your work and relationships.

And just when I least expected it, at the exact right time, Dan reached out ready to talk. We both cried. His words hit the bullseye of my heart—so accurate and full of everything I needed to hear, and more. I felt exhilarated and truly seen, reminded that timing, patience, and trust bring restoration and closeness. 

There’s something powerful about Dan arriving at that place himself—it makes the bond feel deeper, more genuine, and lasting.

Even as I write this, I feel awe—not just for that conversation with Dan, but for the strength I discovered in myself during the waiting. 

A simple but significant truth for me has been: it’s okay—and even healthy—to find joy in life, even when the waiting is hard.

Don’t underestimate how God can reach you—even in the tiniest ways—to encourage and remind you that you’re not alone. He sees you. You might not get the big breakthrough immediately, but God is faithful to be with you while you wait.

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P.S. During those days when Dan was “crockpotting” and I was practicing patience, I met with my therapist for a session. Because patience isn’t passive—it takes courage, support, and sometimes help. If you’re waiting through something hard, consider reaching out for the care you deserve.

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Need help dealing with impatience, attachment anxiety, painful relationship dynamics or with any of these concepts above? Get in touch to request a therapy appointment.