The Awakening of the Queen: Are You Looking for a King... or Collecting Frogs?

Lately, more and more women have become successful and independent. They invest in their minds, take care of their bodies, and work on every area of life that depends on them. Everything seems to be going well. Except one thing. The relationship department.

Women come to me and tell me how much work they've done on themselves. They explain how successful, accomplished, and self-aware they are. They tell me they deserve a high-quality man.

And they do.

They tell me they want a conscious man. A strong man. A reliable man. A successful man. A wealthy man.

Yet after listening to their stories for an hour, I often find myself thinking:

“But all you're talking about is frogs.”

• The man didn't call. Frog.
• The man forgot something. Frog.
• The man isn't emotionally expressive enough. Frog.
• The man likes football. Definitely a frog.

And before anyone gets upset, I've done exactly the same thing myself.

When we've been disappointed, betrayed, hurt, or let down, something subtle happens. We stop looking for kings. We start collecting evidence.

The problem is that once the mind starts looking for frogs, it becomes incredibly good at finding them. Psychologists call this confirmation bias. Kabbalah might call it consciousness. Whatever name we give it, the result is the same: we begin seeing what we expect to see.

So no matter how beautiful, intelligent, or successful a woman may be, if she believes all men are frogs, she will find only frogs — or unconsciously turn every man into one. And even if a king is standing right in front of her, she may not be able to recognize him. Not because he isn't there. But because her mind is not prepared to see him. Her subconscious is not yet ready to receive his kingdom.

That sentence stayed with me for years. Because it isn't really about men. It's about perception. It's about where we place our attention. It's about whether we see someone's flaws first or their potential first. And most importantly, it's about whether we approach relationships through fear or through curiosity.

When the King Becomes a Frog

I had a client who came to me because she wanted to awaken her feminine energy. She had spent years being independent, strong, successful, and self-sufficient. Like many modern women, she had developed her inner Warrior beautifully. But she wanted something more.

She wanted love.

So we worked together. We explored her patterns. Her wounds. Her relationship with men. We practiced softness, receptivity, trust, and feminine presence.

And something wonderful happened. A few months later, she met a man. Not just any man. Her king. Or at least that's how she described him.

• He was attentive.
• Loving.
• Present.
• Protective.
• He called.
• He planned dates.
• He pursued her.
• He listened.
• He made her feel special.

Before long, they were deeply in love. And eventually, they got married.

Now, fairy tales usually end here. “And they lived happily ever after.” But real life is rarely that simple.

Suddenly he wasn't romantic enough. He wasn't attentive enough. He wasn't making enough effort. He wasn't listening properly. He wasn't planning enough surprises. He wasn't chasing her the way he used to.

For nearly an hour I listened carefully while she explained what an enormous frog he had become. And honestly? Some of her complaints were valid. No relationship is perfect. No human being is perfect.

But eventually I asked her a question. A question she wasn't expecting. I smiled and said:

Silence. The kind of silence that tells you the answer has already arrived. A few seconds later she laughed. Then sighed. Then laughed again.

“Okay...” she said. “Maybe.” Maybe? Of course she had changed.

When they met, she was connected to her feminine energy. She was playful. Curious. Open. Receptive. She listened. She appreciated. She admired. She inspired.

But somewhere along the way, she had slowly drifted back into her shadow. The criticism returned. The controlling returned. The correcting returned. The expectations returned. The disappointment returned. The habit of noticing everything that was missing returned. And little by little, she stopped seeing the king. She started seeing only the frog.

Psychology calls this selective attention. We begin noticing what confirms our existing story. If we believe our partner is inconsiderate, we suddenly notice every inconsiderate thing he does. If we believe he doesn't care, we notice every piece of evidence supporting that belief. Meanwhile, all the things he does well become invisible. It's almost as if we put on frog-colored glasses. And once that happens, the relationship begins to suffer.

The First Practice — Real Listening

So where did we begin? Not with communication techniques. Not with date nights. Not with intimacy exercises. We started with something much simpler. Something most people think they already know how to do.

Not listening to respond. Not listening to defend. Not listening to prove a point. Listening. The kind of listening that allows another human being to reveal who they really are.

The Question That Changes Everything

And that is when I introduced her to one of my favorite relationship questions. A question that sounds simple. Almost too simple. Yet it has the power to transform the way we see people.

She looked at me as if I had completely lost my mind. “A good reason for what?” “For everything he does.” She laughed. “Trust me, Ivaneta. There is no good reason for some of the things he does.”

I smiled. Because that is exactly what most of us think. When someone disappoints us, our mind immediately starts creating stories.

• "He doesn't care."
• "He takes me for granted."
• "He's selfish."
• "He's lazy."
• "He doesn't appreciate me."

And sometimes those stories are true. But often they are simply assumptions. Assumptions that we never stop to question.

So I invited her to try an experiment. For one week, every time her husband did something that irritated her, she had to ask herself: What if there's a good reason for that?

A few days later she called me. “You're not going to believe this.” “Tell me.” “Apparently my husband isn't as stupid as I thought.” I laughed. “What happened?”

She explained that one evening he came home exhausted and barely spoke. Normally she would have interpreted that as disinterest. She would have become upset. Withdrawn. Maybe even started an argument. Instead she remembered the question. What if there's a good reason for that? So she asked. And then she did something even more difficult. She waited. Instead of assuming she already knew the answer. Instead of filling the silence. Instead of helping him explain himself. She simply waited.

Eventually he told her about a difficult situation at work. A project that was falling apart. A team member he was worried about. The pressure he had been carrying alone for weeks.

That sentence contains so much wisdom. Because most of us don't listen to understand. We listen to confirm what we already believe. If we believe someone is inconsiderate, we listen for proof. If we believe someone doesn't care, we listen for evidence. If we believe someone is a frog… we listen for croaking. And suddenly we stop hearing everything else.

The Gift of Being Understood

One of the greatest gifts we can offer another person is the experience of being understood. Not fixed. Not analyzed. Not corrected. Understood.

This is especially important with men. Many women tell me: “Men don't communicate.” But after years of coaching couples, I have discovered something interesting. Often men do communicate. They simply communicate differently. And because they communicate differently, women frequently interrupt the process without realizing it.

Many women are fast processors. We think quickly. Feel quickly. Connect dots quickly. Men often process differently. When they pause, they are not necessarily avoiding the question. Sometimes they are searching for the answer.

The same thing happens in conversations. Sometimes the truth is hiding beneath the pause. And if we can learn to sit comfortably in that silence, something beautiful happens. People begin revealing themselves. Their dreams. Their fears. Their struggles. Their truth.

Not the frog you have created in your mind. But the man sitting in front of you.