April 20, 2026

Nachman used to pull into his driveway with a promise to himself. That evening would be different. He would stay calm, avoid another argument, and finally be the husband he had always intended to become. Then he would walk inside and find himself repeating the same familiar pattern. Loving his wife had not taught him how to handle the feelings that kept getting between them.
On the Founder2Founder podcast, Nachman speaks with Aaron Spivak about what eventually changed. A father of eleven and approaching his twenty-ninth wedding anniversary at the time of the conversation, he describes years of learning to respond differently. Their discussion moves through marriage, friendship, parenting, business pressure, and the habits he continues practising. The central idea is personal responsibility: understanding yourself matters because your behaviour affects the people closest to you.
As a child, Nachman told himself he would become an excellent husband. He had experienced abuse and struggled with the gap between what adults taught and how they behaved. Marriage seemed to promise a different kind of life. He expected love and companionship to bring the sense of security he wanted. Instead, he found himself frequently angry, anxious, and caught in conflict.
The contrast between his intentions and his behaviour was painful. He cared deeply about his wife but sometimes felt overwhelmed by resentment. Afterwards, he would question himself and wonder why he could not make the relationship work. Those feelings continued well into the marriage. Simply deciding to have a better evening was not changing what happened when he felt triggered.
His account highlights a difficult gap between caring about someone and knowing how to treat them consistently well. A promise can be sincere without providing the skills needed to keep it. Nachman wanted tools he could practise, not another reason to feel ashamed. He remembers being ready to commit if somebody could show him a different way. That willingness became important when his brother suggested a workshop.
At thirty-seven, Nachman heard his brother describe a workshop focused on vulnerability, authenticity, and responsibility. He agreed to attend before hearing every detail. Money was tight, and the trip represented a significant expense for him. Still, he felt strongly that he needed to try something different. In the interview, he describes arriving eager to participate.
The workshop became an emotional turning point in his own account. He had struggled to cry or express feelings even during painful family experiences. Being there brought emotions to the surface that he had kept contained for years. Yet the most useful part of his story is what followed. He continued checking in with himself and learning after the initial experience ended.
Today, he describes a marriage where difficult conversations can bring greater understanding. Problems still arise, but he and his wife have different ways of addressing them. He does not present the relationship as permanently finished or immune to conflict. The work continues because life continues. A turning point mattered, but repeated effort gave that moment lasting significance.
That consistency also changes what accountability looks like. It is less about declaring that you have changed and more about allowing others to experience the difference over time, especially during conversations that once ended in conflict.
Spivak introduces the image of a man sitting in his driveway before entering his home. For someone under pressure, those minutes may feel like the only pause available all day. The conversation treats that image as a sign of feelings with nowhere to go. A person may be surrounded by family and colleagues yet still lack somewhere to speak openly. Nachman’s response begins with reassurance that struggling does not make someone broken.
He places particular value on trusted friendships and men’s groups. In his experience, there is relief in saying something difficult while others listen without immediately judging or correcting it. The person speaking does not have to provide a solution before admitting what is happening. Fear, embarrassment, and uncertainty can become part of an honest conversation. That is what he means when he talks about needing space.
The point is not that every man needs an identical arrangement. Nachman names friends, groups, coaches, and therapists as possible sources of support. His own preference is for coaching and group work. What matters within his story is having relationships where he can stop performing certainty. Being dependable for others does not remove his need for support himself.
The conversation turns to the influence of parents and childhood experiences. Nachman describes hearing people insist that they will never become like a difficult or angry parent. He understands the wish to behave differently, but questions building an entire identity around that rejection. His focus is on recognising what someone learned and deciding what they want to change. Denying the influence, in his view, makes examining it harder.
He draws a distinction between acknowledging a parent and approving their actions. In his own family, he can recognise painful behaviour while also seeing qualities he values. That perspective belongs to his personal understanding of his history. It does not make the harm he describes acceptable. His account is about how he now relates to those memories.
Nachman also makes an important clarification when Spivak asks about difficult family relationships. Working through feelings internally does not necessarily mean contacting someone or restoring a relationship. He says that reflection can happen without a phone call, visit, or physical reunion. His broader explanations include spiritual beliefs about family systems. The practical distinction is between understanding your history and deciding who has access to your life today.
Breathing practices are central to Nachman’s account of his own emotional life. He describes using them for years and beginning his mornings with meditation. Spivak also talks about paying attention to his breathing during stressful moments and between activities. For both speakers, the practice extends beyond a long session in a dedicated setting. It is something they associate with pausing and noticing what is happening internally.
Nachman shares his experience of intense anxiety and the support he received from his friend Adam. He remembers being able to explain frightening feelings to someone who understood what he meant. Having that trusted person nearby mattered alongside the breathing itself. His story includes both a personal practice and a relationship. Neither part should disappear when summarising what he found helpful.
The speakers make broad claims about breathwork during the episode, including comparisons with medication. Those comments reflect their views and experiences rather than evidence that one approach suits everyone. Nachman’s decisions about his own care should not be read as instructions for someone else. What the conversation clearly establishes is the importance he gives the practice in his life. It does not establish breathwork as a replacement for prescribed treatment.
Spivak connects the discussion to a business owner facing a disastrous production run. A manufacturing mistake had created a major problem involving products, customers, and months of potential recovery work. The founder arrived at a group conversation exhausted and uncertain. Her immediate response was to make plans, hire help, and move faster. She wanted to overcome the setback through more activity.
As Spivak tells it, the conversation helped her recognise that the company had already been moving too quickly. Her team was stretched, and accelerating further could increase the pressure. Slowing down became part of how she understood the situation. That insight did not erase the damaged products or the work ahead. It changed how she intended to approach the recovery.
The story illustrates why the episode keeps returning to creating space. Sometimes an urgent response is necessary, but urgency can also prevent someone from examining the conditions behind a problem. In this example, the useful question concerned the pace of the business. More effort was not automatically the same as a better response. The pause helped the founder reconsider where to put that effort.
When Spivak asks where Nachman still struggles, he answers with money. Growing up, he recalls financial matters dominating conversations and affecting the mood around him. He came to associate money with love and security. Recognising that connection has become part of his current work. He wants to change how he experiences financial possibility and uncertainty.
It is a revealing moment because he spends much of the episode describing improvements in other relationships. Progress with his wife and children has not removed every difficult belief. He can acknowledge change while admitting that another area still feels uncomfortable. He also says that working on money does not mean his marriage no longer requires attention. Different parts of his life continue developing together.
For readers, this makes his account more grounded than a story of complete transformation. Someone can become more patient, more open, or more connected without reaching a final version of themselves. Nachman is willing to discuss what remains unfinished. That honesty fits the responsibility he encourages elsewhere in the conversation. He is applying the same questions to himself.
Nachman speaks candidly about behaviour he regrets as a father. He says he previously shouted, became angry, and sometimes hit his children. He does not describe those actions with pride or excuse them as necessary discipline. Instead, he contrasts them with the relationships he is trying to build today. His reflections keep the focus on his responsibility to change his behaviour.
One example concerns a daughter whose company he noticed himself avoiding. Rather than treat her as the problem, he began asking what was happening within him. He interpreted his reaction as connected to his own difficulty with love and acceptance. That is his personal explanation of the experience. The observable change he describes is becoming more available to her.
He now speaks warmly about children who tell him they enjoy spending time together. They play, talk, and sometimes notice changes in him over relatively short periods. Those comments matter because they describe everyday contact rather than an abstract claim about becoming a better parent. His children experience the work through how he behaves with them. For Nachman, that closeness is one of its most meaningful results.
Parenting also brings up the question of control. Spivak asks how parents can support children without imposing a detailed picture of what their lives should become. Nachman responds by examining the motives behind parental expectations. Sometimes, he suggests, a child’s achievement becomes tied to a parent’s wish to feel successful. He encourages questioning that connection rather than assuming every demand serves the child.
He shares a memory of a daughter who was not accepted into a camp her cousins would attend. His initial response was to try to change the outcome through family connections. When that failed, his father suggested that experiencing disappointment could also become something she learned from. The comment stayed with him. He began questioning whether every painful outcome required him to intervene.
The useful lesson is about allowing room for learning while remaining a present parent. A child’s interests, choices, and setbacks do not have to follow the story an adult imagined. Nachman returns to regular reflection because expectations can easily become automatic. He still talks through parenting questions with someone he trusts. Having eleven children has not made him believe he has nothing left to examine.
By the end of the conversation, Nachman’s idea of strength looks different from constant certainty or emotional silence. He values being able to admit difficulty and remain open to feedback. His friendships give him somewhere to speak, while his daily practices help him pay attention. His family sees the consequences through ordinary interactions. The work becomes meaningful in what happens after the conversation or workshop ends.
The man who once waited in his driveway hoping not to argue now describes a home where closeness is possible. That change took more than good intentions, and he does not suggest it is complete. He continues checking his reactions, asking questions, and listening to people who know him. His story leaves a practical measure of growth: whether the people you love can reach you, speak honestly with you, and enjoy being around you.