tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-82112232024-03-23T20:25:49.489+02:00Sarah SmileFrank Savage, my high school drafting teacher, used to sing "Sarah Smile" whenever he saw me. It made me feel special. I try to smile...I need to smile more.
Writing makes me smile!Sarah Smilehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09323948286948542489noreply@blogger.comBlogger805125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211223.post-3316353560089405052023-09-07T23:52:00.000+03:002023-09-07T23:52:04.496+03:00 Week 3: For-Real Friday <p><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">This week was a challenge to find something I was willing to write about that was real and authentic. This specific exercise has made me more conscious of my boundaries and what I am willing to share on social media. Although, I find that I usually have no problem sharing most things about my own life, when other people are involved, I know I need to respect them, their privacy, and their story.</span></p>
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<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">This week I had several challenging situations with other people in my life but it is not my place to share those challenges without their permission.</p>
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<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I can think of one frustration from my week that borders on involving others, yet is not their fault and is a clear example of needing to take responsibility for my choices.</p>
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<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">In 2020, when we decided to sell our house and move to the beach, we started our search for apartments. We only looked for places that had 4 bedrooms. 1 - Master bedroom, 2 - Ari’s office, 3 - Elysheva’s room, and 4 - a guest room.</p>
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<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Not until the very end of the packing process, when I was going through my home office, did I realize that we hadn’t thought of having a 5th room as an office for myself, with a place where I could sit with my computer to take care of the bills and communications, make doctor appointments online, or have private zoom meetings.</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">When I started packing my art room, I also realized I had not even considered a place where I would be able to create my own art or store my supplies. </p>
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<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">With all the other decisions about remodeling the apartment and which pieces of furniture we would keep or give away, it was decided, although I don’t recall how or by whom, that my home office would also be the guest room. The decision was made, and the possibility of finding an apartment with 5 bedrooms for an office and creative space was not thought of again.</p>
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<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">In February 2020, we bought our impressive 135 square meters (approximately 1453 sq. ft) apartment with 4 small bedrooms, a large living room/dining room area and kitchen, and a small balcony with a perfect view of the beach.</p>
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<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">For the most part, I absolutely love living in a small apartment. There’s less to take care of and everything is where I need it to be.</p>
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<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">It is only the times when we have sleep-over guests that the reality of the decision to combine my home office with the guest room becomes the most challenging for me. When Elysheva is home and her room is not available to guests, my office becomes the guest room.</p>
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<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">This week, I became frustrated with myself remembering that when we were looking for apartments, I did not think about myself or what I would want for my own space. I was concerned for Ari’s space, our bedroom space, Elysheva’s space, and my kitchen space, but not my own personal space. I didn’t even think about it. I never considered what I would want.</p>
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<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I know that sacrificing our needs and wants for others is something that many women struggle with. Most of us don’t know how to live any differently. Either this behavior is how our mothers lived and modeled, or society tells us. I admit that until now, I did not know any other way of living either.</p>
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<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">This week I was reminded of this decision all over again. I have watched Elysheva go into her room and shut the door, while Ari sits at his desk working, also shutting the door when he needs to. For our sleep-over guests (whom I love dearly!!) my office is now their tight-fitting space with an opened trundle bed for two people to sleep and a small closet for their clothes.</p>
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<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I have nowhere to go for my personal space. For the time being, I have no room to go into to shut the door.</p>
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<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Of course, it’s not their fault. I am happy to have them here. </p>
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<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">All of this just reminds me of the disregard for my own needs. If I want or need something, I have to ask for it. I did not value that then. It honestly did not even occur to me to ask. Instead, I have spent this week trying not to react with anger at myself and accepting responsibility for my choices.</p>
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<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">That’s about it for this week.</p>
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<ol>
<li style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Knowing what I need and asking for it.</li>
<li style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Taking responsibility for my choices.</li>
<li style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Appreciating what I have.</li>
</ol>
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<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">At the same time, still leaving space for feeling the frustration of not doing these things.</p><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211223.post-79318372471482117452023-08-31T19:51:00.009+03:002023-08-31T19:57:08.813+03:00 Week 2: For-Real Friday - Disappointments<p><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Disappointments</span></p><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: white;">This has been a doozy of an eye infection that has led to a lot of disappointments.</span></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: white;">I am <span style="font-family: inherit;"><a style="cursor: pointer; font-family: inherit;" tabindex="-1"></a></span>now ending week 3 and am still only at the tail end of this thing: itchy, uncomfortable, and swollen eyes, blurry vision, and light sensitivity. (If you look carefully at the picture I posted from our anniversary dinner, you can tell my eyes are swollen.)</span></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: white;">Some days I have more energy than others.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: white;">This week Ari and I had a short getaway planned for our anniversary. </span></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: white;">We were going to save money by flying on the points that Ari had accumulated with all his travel, staying with some friends, and just walking around the city. We were looking for a change of scenery and some time to create some memorable moments together recognizing 35 years of working hard in our relationship.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: white;">Sunday night I had to make the difficult decision to push myself to go on this trip while feeling crappy or to cancel.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: white;">I do not know about any of you but I have a very mean bully that lives in my head and tells me not to be pathetic. It tells me to push myself so I don’t disappoint anyone else. It tells me I can do anything if I push myself enough. It tells me that I will become a lazy bum if I don’t keep going. It tells me to suck it up.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: white;">I am very aware of this constant internal bully and spend a lot of time and energy fighting it. </span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: white;">On Sunday I spoke back and kindly asked my internal bully to sit back and chill. This was not the time I needed it to push me. I told my bully that I needed to listen to my body, which I knew needed to rest. </span></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: white;">This hasn’t been easy.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: white;">Ari and I will reschedule our trip for another time. </span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: white;">Meantime, I am dealing with disappointment, wishing that my body would cooperate with my life plans, and wishing healing came in the time frame I needed it to.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: white;">Accepting disappointment when things are out of my control.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: white;">This is a really hard one!</span></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211223.post-47060741770296574962023-08-25T13:40:00.000+03:002023-08-25T13:40:34.195+03:00 Week 1: For-Real Friday - Pain<p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">The past two weeks have been horrible! </p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I woke up on Monday, August 14th feeling something funky in my left eye, gave it a couple of wipes, and then drove over an hour to pick up two of my grandkids to bring them back for a Grama sleepover. </p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">As the day progressed and I woke up the next morning, my eye worsened. I went to a family doctor and started taking drops. By Wednesday morning I had a full-on, looked-like-the-devil double eye infection. My eyes were swollen and weepy and felt like I had the entire beach in my eyes!</p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">The week continued and my ability to be present with my family lessened. My friend and pharmacist graciously tried to counsel me via text, but my eyes were not getting any better. </p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">The drops were not helping and on Sunday morning I learned how to get an emergency appointment with an eye doctor in the city. I was in terrible pain and just wanted it to end. The doctor checked my eyes and told me I had a severe case of double conjunctivitis. It could take anywhere from 1 week to 1 month to heal. I started to cry, which made the pain even worse.</p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"> </p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">She gave me new drops and sent me home, warning me that the virus was very contagious and that I should be very careful. I couldn't see to drive, and the pain drained my energy. I could physically feel my body running down and under attack.</p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I canceled clients and important meetings. I couldn’t go to my son-in-law’s sister’s wedding. I couldn’t go to the pool. Being out in the sunlight was excruciatingly uncomfortable, which meant no walks on the beach. I stayed inside. My son did my food shopping and took care of me. We spent a quiet Shabbat together. While I lay on the couch with warm compresses on my eyes, he read to me from the very meaningful book, Being Mortal - which I highly recommend!</p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 17px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Being in pain is exhausting. I live with chronic pain, so my threshold is high. But this felt different. It’s also a scary feeling of being vulnerable and out of control. When my body doesn't work as I expect or need it to, the pain and discomfort send me down a spiral of not wanting to do anything and just wanting life to end. I don’t want to go to sleep at night because I don’t want to wake up (if I sleep at all) in the same amount of pain. The fear of no change and having to endure another day of fighting pain creates high anxiety. </p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 17px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">My mind starts to play tricks on me, making up stories of what if…</p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">What if I lose my eyesight and can’t ever watch the sunset again? </p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">What if I can’t see my beautiful children and grandchildren? </p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">What if I can’t see to color or create anything?</p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">What if I wake up blind and don’t know what to do?</p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">What if…</p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">What if…</p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">What if…</p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 17px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I admit. I take my eyesight for granted. I take a pain-free moment for granted. I expect to be able to see, even with my daily gratitude of seeing the sunset. There is an unconscious expectation. I expect to wake up and be able to see.</p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 17px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Yesterday was the first time in 12 days that I had the energy to do anything. </p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">The drops are working and along with the homeopathic remedy I found of using green tea bags on my eyes, the pain is almost gone. </p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">12 days and although I still have some blurriness and eye crude, healing has begun to happen, even though I never thought it would.</p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 17px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">So that was my hard thing for this week.</p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 17px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Moving on…</p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">P.S></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">The silver lining? Being stuck inside forced me to work on a new project that will be revealed soon! It might not be as perfect as I had hoped since I could barely see, but at least I got it done!</p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 17px;"><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211223.post-22476983550154853522022-08-14T21:54:00.000+02:002022-08-14T21:54:37.016+02:00On Turning 33 - Being a Gift<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik-W-Ed20eCYOxDj72WhEa3-_O2wPtO6BsNkUw6AJZcFSERLNY_dToQ6j172KB2hz4-03-nic9-QWjIkRKt0wtAX4uVGNC_jJM81dMeBLyD2xCpABWILHsdWS6S4Msd21NdESGT-DfKbx0yxcEWJicsph8bsLMIaHl8nHKN_UeUtawRqELpJo/s843/39142098_10155830164762914_5410502244166533120_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="843" data-original-width="526" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik-W-Ed20eCYOxDj72WhEa3-_O2wPtO6BsNkUw6AJZcFSERLNY_dToQ6j172KB2hz4-03-nic9-QWjIkRKt0wtAX4uVGNC_jJM81dMeBLyD2xCpABWILHsdWS6S4Msd21NdESGT-DfKbx0yxcEWJicsph8bsLMIaHl8nHKN_UeUtawRqELpJo/s320/39142098_10155830164762914_5410502244166533120_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: large;">This birthday year for my son feels very different for me. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: large;">Because it is.</span></p><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">When DB was born 33 years ago, I was a very young mother. He was my first. All parenting experiments were played out on him.</span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Then he grew up. W</span><span style="font-size: large;">e moved him to Israel, </span><span style="font-size: large;">and he grew up.</span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">He was in the Israeli army for 4.8 years.</span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">My mom always reminded me that having a son in the army was practice for being a mother-in-law: </span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I can have an opinion, but no one cares. </span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">He does not answer to me. </span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">And I can ask when he is coming home, but I will most probably not get an answer.</span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The army was great practice for when he traveled post-army in Central and South America for 12 months. </span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I could have an opinion about what he was doing or where he was going, but it didn't matter. </span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">He was totally independent so he didn't have to answer to anyone. </span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">And I never knew when the </span><span style="font-size: large;">next time</span><span style="font-size: large;"> I was going to hear from him.</span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It was a constant conversation: Be in touch. Send an SOL (sign of life)</span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">He didn't want to. Only when he had a wifi connection. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Or only when he wanted to.</span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: large;">That year I</span><span style="font-size: medium;"> decided that I no longer believed in the saying: No news is good news. I didn't want to wait to hear from him when there was only bad news. Send an SOL. </span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Each time I heard from him, I realized how I had been holding my breath and suddenly could breathe again.</span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Still, it was a constant challenge for me to keep my worry and curiosity in check.</span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">That year, I learned that worrying was a waste of energy. </span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I understood and internalized the concept that my son was a gift to me, to us, to our family, and to the world.</span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">He didn’t belong to me. He was a gift. G-d gave him to me as a gift.</span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">And for me to think that I had any control over what he did, or to worry about where he was or what he was doing, was a waste of energy.</span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">He didn’t belong to me. He was a gift</span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I had to keep the nagging reminder going in my head that he was an adult, and I trusted that he loved us and knew how I felt about being in touch.</span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">This past October, my son got married.</span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">He found the woman he wanted to share his life with.</span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Even more true, I was now the mother-in-law, and all the lessons I learned while he was in the army and traveling for a year became much more real.</span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Now, I tiptoe around having an opinion, but it doesn't really matter.</span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">He no longer answers to me, because his wife is ultimately the only one he has to answer to. </span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It is no longer any of my business where he is or what he is doing. That is between him and his wife.</span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Today is my son's 33rd birthday. On August 14, 1989, I became a Mother.</span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The day I birthed him as a gift into this world.</span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">He made me a Momma and filled my heart with constant love.</span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">This year my son and his wife are on a road trip in Stan, my Grand-van.</span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">They have been driving across the United States. </span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">He sent a message last week that he was going on a 7-day solo hiking trip in Denali National Park in Alaska. </span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">A dream, he wrote, and something he has always wanted to do.</span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">His wife would be doing her own thing while waiting for him to return.</span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">He wanted to be alone and not be found.</span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">So today is another day for me to remind myself of all the lessons I have learned about having a son in the army, traveling for a year, and now being married.</span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">There is no purpose in worrying. </span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Instead, I am sending out a prayer for his safety with lots of love, and the hope that he is having an adventure of a lifetime!</span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I can hope for his safe return and realistically know that if anything bad does happen, I will know what to do. </span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Worrying does not help.</span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><br /></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">This is part of the message I sent him today, hoping that he will see and read it eventually:</span></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Wherever you are in the world, I want you to remember that my life changed for the ultimate good when you were born! You carry with you a load of love from me every moment of every day. Even if you want to hide, and not be found, that love is there!</span><span style="font-size: medium;"><div>Thank you for being born so I could learn how to love even when I don’t know where you are or what you are doing. </div><div>I hope you are enjoying your birthday adventure and may this 33rd year bring many more exciting adventures to enhance your already amazing life!</div><div><br /></div><div>And then I remind myself that my son does not belong to me and he is a blessed gift.</div><div><br /></div><div>Happy Birthday, Dovie. Thanks for being born! I love you </div></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211223.post-38297375366873163312022-06-19T17:29:00.002+02:002022-06-19T17:44:04.547+02:00<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 12px; text-align: left;">I Found a Stick</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK78puUbEmaCFXFNHrNnEjbbZlYpiSxu2XUZuvjKxlCjaKzQyJT_PWV-bR5N2uzDHQOTqdGsKSsjcxH0Dl0DrDmx3SZzvaPWojLEfhhtHLG4ft0vjaalgdseOX2X8dD2YPc_2RYjrYEQii2HR6WTcRArH75qRIuwR_KThKP5K2aAcIEDvKW08/s4032/IMG_4821.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK78puUbEmaCFXFNHrNnEjbbZlYpiSxu2XUZuvjKxlCjaKzQyJT_PWV-bR5N2uzDHQOTqdGsKSsjcxH0Dl0DrDmx3SZzvaPWojLEfhhtHLG4ft0vjaalgdseOX2X8dD2YPc_2RYjrYEQii2HR6WTcRArH75qRIuwR_KThKP5K2aAcIEDvKW08/s320/IMG_4821.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><p></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Sunday.</p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I pushed myself out the door this morning. So glad I did.</p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I knew I needed the beach, but wasn’t sure how much time I would have or how far I would go.</p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I have a favorite walking route where I wind my way north along the long exercise path above the beach and at an opportune opening, I climb down a rocky, dirt-filled cliff to get to the beach, and then head back along the sea's edge. </p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">As usual, I was alone on the beach and passed only 2 or 3-morning beach walkers. I took off my socks and sneakers to enjoy the feel of the sand and cool sea water on my feet. As I walked along, listening to a meditative Audible book, I found pieces of green polished sea glass and perfect soft stones and dropped them in my bag.</p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">The tide seemed to be going out, so there were open spaces of hard-packed untouched sand, which usually leads my mind to start looking for a stick so I can draw in the sand.</p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I continued walking and there it was. I found the stick. </p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">My sand drawing is never purposeful. I allow myself to take the stick in my hand and begin to draw in the sand in whatever direction it wants to go.</p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Honestly, I could keep going, drawing forever in the sand. Usually, there’s always a time limit. An appointment I need to get home for or an errand I need to run. I do believe that if I allowed myself unlimited time, I would keep going, filling the entire beach until I got tired or hungry or the sun went down.</p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Today I needed to get home because I thought I had an appointment. I “completed” my sand drawing, pushed the stick into the sand, and stepped back to admire my work.</p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I smiled and took a picture. Undecided if I would post it.</p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Then, continuing to walk south, toward the busy public beach, I passed an elderly man walking the other way. I nodded and wished him a good morning, but he did not respond. When he was a short distance passed me, I turned around to see if he noticed my drawing in the sand. I watched for a few minutes, making up the story in my mind that he would see it, and look back to see if I was the one who drew it. We would make eye contact and he would give me a thumbs up. </p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Instead, he walked right passed the drawing, without even noticing it.</p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I turned to continue my walk and instantly recognized a pang of disappointment. A pang of not being seen, and of not being recognized or given positive reinforcement.</p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I immediately sat down in the sand and journaled:</p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><i>I found a stick. </i></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><i>As I was drawing, I thought about taking a picture and sharing it. There are many other sand drawings I have taken pictures of and haven’t shared, just to test myself. This time I really felt that test. </i></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><i></i><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><i>If no one sees my drawing and I don't get recognized for it, did I do it? </i></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><i>Do I still enjoy it? </i></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><i>Does the drawing itself have value? </i></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><i>Does my act of drawing have value? </i></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><i>Does the creative act of drawing have value in and of itself? Just the fact that I wanted to be creative and then drew?</i></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><i>Why did I draw it? </i></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><i>Does it matter if no one can tell me they saw it?</i></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><i></i><br /></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><i>This time I took a picture to capture the drawing for myself. So I can remember for myself. </i></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><i>But what if I didn’t even do that. What if I didn’t take a picture so I can look back and remember. </i></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><i>What if I just drew. And felt the feeling in the moment and in my body when I am drawing. Enjoying the process just for myself - at that moment. Could I do that?</i></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><i>What if I drew. No picture. Grounded the experience and process in my body. And moved on. </i></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><i>What if that’s what I did?</i></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><i>What if that’s all I did?</i></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">So, I found a stick.</p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">And I drew.</p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">And it felt different.</p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I asked myself many new questions. Many questions that at the moment have unknown or uncomfortable answers.</p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I think about how social media has changed the process of creating for me, just to create.</p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I think about how my craving for positive reinforcement has changed my deep need to be seen.</p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Where do I find the balance between being seen and acknowledged, and just being?</p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">And then what about my knowing existentially that I exist and have value.</p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">With or without being seen?</p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I am posting the picture now to share my experience. </p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">So that maybe someone else can relate to these feelings. </p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Maybe that’s the balance.</p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">When the sharing is done in order to let others know that I see them too.</p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Maybe?</p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Does it have to be purposeful? It’s a process.</p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I found a stick.</p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211223.post-66236895084452278182021-02-01T15:05:00.001+02:002021-02-01T15:05:46.058+02:00 Both, at the same time<p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 18.19px;">My 22 kilometer bike ride last week gave me time to process a concept I have been working on personally to internalize and share with others over the past several years.</span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 18.2px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-size: 18.19px;">The concept, simply described, is that two seemingly opposite emotions can be felt at the same time. We don’t have to get stuck completely in one emotion at a time. We can allow them to happen together. Allowing two opposite emotions to happen at the same time creates emotional and mental balance. Although we might have been told by our parents, or we somehow came to believe otherwise, we don’t have to live in extremes of one emotion or the other. </span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 18.2px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-size: 18.19px;">Allow me to use a personal example to explain: </span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 18.2px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-size: 18.19px;">This time of year, in Israel, in the off-road/mountain biking world is the most magnificent time. Biking in the forest or fields of Israel in the winter months is a sensory experience. The air is crisp, the sun is comfortably warm, and the smells of wet mud and trees after a rain are sweet and exhilarating. The shades of green are like fresh paint on a canvas. The blooming cyclamen create beds of purple and pink fairy angels and we begin to see dots of red poppies appear in the green fields. The experience is breathtaking. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 18.2px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 21.7px;"><span class="s2" style="font-size: 18.19px;"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 18.2px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-size: 18.19px;">This past June, Ari and I moved further away from the forest and closer to the beach. Unfortunately in Israel right now, due to the Covid-19 pandemic, there is a lockdown, and we are legally not allowed to put our bikes on the car to travel for exercise. </span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 18.2px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-size: 18.19px;">I love living by the beach. I am so grateful to have the daily morning sea view, a 7 minute walk to put my toes in the sand and the ability to breathe the salty air. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Biking near the beach is only on paved bike trails, some parallel along the beach, others through the streets or not-yet-constructed neighborhoods. My biking experience has changed and become very different to biking in the forest. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 18.2px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 21.7px;"><span class="s2" style="font-size: 18.19px;"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 18.2px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-size: 18.19px;">As I was peddling up an incline last week, on a long strip of black topped bike path, it came to me, and here is where I needed to integrate: While I really miss being able to bike in the colorful, sweet smelling forest right now, I am so happy to be living near the beach. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 18.2px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 21.7px;"><span class="s2" style="font-size: 18.19px;"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 18.2px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-size: 18.19px;">Both. At the same time. Appreciating where I am and missing where I could be. Not just saying, I “should be happy where I am,” but feeling both: grateful for where I am and sad that I can’t be closer to the forest.</span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 18.2px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-size: 18.19px;"><br /></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 18.2px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-size: 18.19px;">I wasn’t raised with this concept. I was raised with “Let me see a smile,” or “Dont worry, be happy!” Or even this one, from my Grandma Rose, “No one wants to be around a bitch!” People in general have difficulty hearing or dealing with their own difficult emotions, and have even greater difficulty managing another person’s. So many people feel shame about the negative emotions. We tell ourselves, “I should be happy,” or “I should be grateful,” or “I need to be more positive.” When we recognize these difficult emotions and allow them the space to exist, we validate them. And then we fight the shame of “how I should be...”</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 18.2px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 21.7px;"><span class="s2" style="font-size: 18.19px;"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 18.2px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-size: 18.19px;">I find this concept freeing. I find it empowering. I find it easier with practice. Finding the comfortable balance changes with each situation.</span></p><div><span class="s2" style="font-size: 18.19px;"><br /></span></div><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 18.2px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-size: 18.19px;">Another cute example of this happened </span><span style="font-size: 18.190000534057617px;">recently </span><span style="font-size: 18.19px;">while reading a children’s book to my grandson. In “Franklin Goes to the Hospital,” we see that we can be brave and scared at the same time. Franklin was brave to face having the surgery he needed in order to fix the crack in his shell, while still expressing his fears. My grandson repeated the concept several times: “Right, I can be brave and scared at the same time, Grama?” Brave and scared at the same time. Two opposing emotions, that we can allow ourselves to feel simultaneously. Being able to teach this concept to my grandchildren, is such a gift.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 18.2px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 21.7px;"><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 18.2px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-size: 18.19px;">So too, the same as with this pandemic, allowing ourselves to feel frustration and impatient at being cooped up inside for so many hours of the day, while at the same time feeling grateful to be healthy and well. Consciously allowing ourselves to feel both emotions at the same time.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 18.2px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 21.7px;"><span class="s2" style="font-size: 18.19px;"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 18.2px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="font-size: 18.19px;">That’s what I mean by Both, At the same time.</span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211223.post-58264273686365496312018-12-10T21:28:00.000+02:002018-12-10T21:40:59.099+02:00Never assume you know what you are looking at!<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: medium;">This picture has you fooled, I am sure of it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;">You might say, “It’s so sweet!”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Or think, “Look how comfortable you both look.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Or, “You’re both so relaxed.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;">You might feel the love between us.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;">You might be in awe of the sweetness between grandmother and grandson</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;">And all would be true.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;">But, once again, you don’t know the story behind the picture.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;">This picture was taken last Thursday, December 6th, at around 3:00 pm in the afternoon. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I had finally gotten Shachar to fall asleep on my shoulder while I was standing up and holding him. I laid down in my bed and we both slept there for 2 hours.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Again, you might be thinking, “That is so sweet…”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;">But, remember, there’s always more story behind a picture. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The story is that the night before, I mistakenly and without second thought, gave my grandson a minuscule piece of macadamia nut. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;">For those who don’t know, my grandson, Shachar, is THAT kid who is allergic to peanuts (and dairy, and sesame, and eggs!) His mother asked me if I had given him a macadamia nut before, and I thought I had.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Not more than 1 minute later, the poor little guy was drooling, lips swelling and breaking out in a rash. His parents very quickly gave him Benedryl. But it did not seem to do the job. They took him to our local Urgent Care facility, where they gave him steroids, and then an epipen, as the symptoms were not getting better. At that point protocol dictated that he be sent to the hospital.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Ari and I met them at Urgent Care around 11:00 pm, as they were getting into the ambulance. Ari followed in our children’s car, and I drove home in our car to quickly gather phone chargers, toys for Shachar, some allergy free snacks, and hospital admission forms, in case Nechama went into labor.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;">When I arrived at the hospital, Shachar was in the children’s emergency room, being monitored, where they would keep him all night. They were no longer concerned that the symptoms would get worse, as it seemed the epipen did the job, but they wanted to keep him for observation. Ari and I left Shachar and his parents at the hospital around 12:30 am, to return home.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I was drained. I felt horribly guilty. I was questioning my memory. I was second guessing myself. I was so unsure as to whether I had given him a macadamia nut before or not? If I would have been more conscientious, everyone would be home in their warm snuggly beds. I felt guilty for making my daughter and son-in-law have to (try to) sleep in a hospital all night. I felt responsible. I kept thinking about the trauma I had caused him. And his parents. And there was nothing more I could do.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;">They returned home the next day, after receiving the OK from the doctor to be discharged. I sent Shachar’s parents to sleep, and then fed, played with and basically followed Shachar around the rest of the day. Until the moment when we both needed a nap. He was so tired, but he was not cooperating to lay down without me.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;">So I left everything I was doing and took him to my room. I held him, sang to him and spoke quietly in my dark room, until he fell asleep with his head on my shoulder. </span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "helvetica neue";"><span style="font-size: medium;">It was heaven. I couldn’t decide if I was feeling guilt or gratitude. Or both. I just </span></span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue"; font-size: medium;">wanted to make the whole scary night go away!</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It was sweet.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It was loving.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It was comfortable.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It was very relaxing.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;">But it was also for a very scary reason!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;">And for a mistake that I plan not to repeat!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;">So, bottom line, when you look at this picture, and any others that I post:</span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Really, just don’t ever assume you know the full story….</span></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211223.post-76313618210242553432018-11-15T12:40:00.004+02:002018-11-15T12:45:32.978+02:00Be a Mentch!<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I have spent my adult years working on myself to be more accepting, more understanding, and less judgemental. I grew up in a large family of strong opinions and unsuppressed criticism. Retraining my brain not to naturally be critical or judgmental is a daily, minute-by-minute struggle for me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">There is one behaviour though, (at least for the purpose of this writing) that I cannot accept. I MUST express my opinion and I cannot allow it to be ok in our world.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">As a mental health professional who works in the world of appointment-making and keeping, I have spent many years skilfully working with my clients on their time keeping, showing up when they are supposed to, and informing me when they are going to be late, or not going to show up at all.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Unfortunately, I have spent countless hours waiting for people and wondering if they are going to call me or let me know they will be late, or even coming at all. I have gone so far as to create a policy contract that clients must sign when they begin to work with me, agreeing that they are responsible to arrive on time, to pay if they don't come for their session without notice, and, in general, making them aware that their presence matters.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I am sensitive to and thoughtfully diligent to communicate with whomever is waiting for me, if I know I will be late. I feel a deep respect for them and their time. And I certainly know how it feels to be disregarded. The business aspect of not showing up at all, or letting a customer know you are not coming or will be late, is just bad business, for sure.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I have tried very hard to raise my children (and husband) to be thoughtful and considerate humans. To be respectful of other people’s time and planning. To think outside of just themselves, and to realise that other people are involved in or with the planning of their lives. To let me know IF they will be home, or WHEN they expect to arrive home. In general, to communicate. I consider myself a reasonable person who expects basic common courtesy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I am excruciatingly aware, that this is a personally difficult topic.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">For me, it is connected to the basic human need of feeling seen. Being heard. Being respected. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">If you cannot communicate with me a basic Derech Eretz - a showing of respect - as a human being, then it’s hurtful. I get angry. But in reality, I am hurt. The anger is a reaction to the hurt. It is as if you are saying, “You don’t matter enough to me to communicate with.” And that feels personal. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I would rather you communicate with me time after time, to tell me you are running late, or not able to come, because then we have something to speak about. Then I know I am worthy of your communication. And you are not just thinking about yourself. Not being able to or choosing not to communicate is a lousy excuse for thinking only about yourself.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">When I try to tell myself that what you think of me doesn’t matter, I can’t in this case. In my opinion, you not respecting me leads to a global breakdown of the basic human needs in our world. If no one spoke up and said, “The way you are treating me is not ok,” then there would be constant and overall chaos in communication and relationships in our world. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">If absolutely no one cared about or respected another person, their time, or their needs, then how could we continue to exist as a collective people? </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">We don’t live on islands alone. We must learn how to live together, to communicate and to be in relationship with one another.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">I am aware that I am choosing here to use my own inner pain and trigger to demand from others to be a mensch. To be considerate and thoughtful of others. I cannot just accept. I will express my opinion, and I will continue to expect you to see me, and to respect me, as long as I am still living in this world.</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211223.post-24284090161566989922018-10-28T10:48:00.003+02:002018-10-28T10:54:18.416+02:00How I respond to difficult news....<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">I wake up every morning and wonder what has happened during the night?</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I end every Shabbat or holiday, wondering what am I going to hear or read?</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">After every hour I am in session with a client, I wonder what I am going to hear or read?</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">That’s what happens in life. I can’t hear or read or know everything at every moment.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">And when I hear news my brain reacts.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I hear good news and I feel joy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I hear sad news and I feel pained.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I hear tragic news and I am in shock.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Every day is an unknown. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">And so, once again, I am processing tragedy. Curious about G-d’s Plan? </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Man’s actions. Man’s pain. Man’s suffering. Man’s sickness.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I take in the information, and feel my feelings.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">And then I must try to focus on what I can. Focus on what I can do something about.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">The good. The love. The care. The self-understanding. The self-knowing. The clarity of self. The holding. The healing. The growing. The teaching. The sharing. The vulnerability.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I Just. Keep. Going.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">And know there is always more news to come…in the next day, or next hour, or next moment.</span></div>
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Each day is a blessing. And I must continue to live while I can.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211223.post-12420640161264690992018-10-08T13:08:00.004+02:002018-10-08T13:08:38.702+02:00A "Sometimes it's Hard" Party<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">Today I ran away from something very hard.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I didn’t actually RUN away.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I actually took my bags and walked away. Got in my car and drove away. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I couldn't stay.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">It was too hard.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">And not worth my time to stay and be frustrated.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">So I left.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I’m trying to face the shame of walking away from this hard thing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I feel embarrassed and ashamed of not being smart enough. Good enough. Hebrew-speaking enough. Brave enough.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">So I walked away instead.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I try to tell myself, I’m still good enough. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">I’m smart.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">In English, I can do hard things. I can be brave.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">But in Hebrew, it’s just too hard.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">This week I had the opportunity to be an assistant in a week-long training course, of which I have already completed the training. I was looking forward to going to assist/help out the new students learning the material for their first time, and deepen my own understanding of the material while I was there.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">I changed my weekly schedule around. I woke up early. I sat in traffic on my way to the course, and fought for parking.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">I walked into the classroom late, and right away realized I had made a mistake.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">The teacher was speaking in Hebrew and the students all seemed to understand what she was saying.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">Except me. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">I sat down and tried to understand. I heard a few Hebrew words here and there that I understood. But like what usually happens for me when I go to a Hebrew speaking meeting or event, I hear words I know, but can’t put together enough to understand the context of what is being spoken about.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">Very quickly the shame crept in.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“You should know this stuff in Hebrew by now. You’ve been here 15 years.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“You’ve heard these words in other courses, you should recognize them enough to make some sense of it all.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“There will definitely be two or three students who speak English and are willing to work in English so you can assist them.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“It’s so embarrassing to have to admit to everyone that I can’t work in Hebrew.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“Don’t leave or they will think less of you. They will think you’re not a good therapist because you can’t work in Hebrew.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“They will think you’re weak if you can’t stay and try to understand the Hebrew.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">"Just be brave and fake it. That will look better."</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">These and so many more.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">At the break, I approached the teacher, who remembered from the last time I came to assist and had to leave because of the Hebrew (I had forgotten that), and who hugged me saying into my ear, “How are you doing with my Hebrew?”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“I’m not,” I answered. “I’m leaving.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">“You need some EMDR,” was her response.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">To which I answered, “To help me better understand the Hebrew? How exactly does THAT work?!”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">She said something about how EMDR, in one session, will help get rid of the block I have to understand.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">She thinks I have a block?</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">So, I thought, great, there’s one more shame monster to add to the others. If only I would get rid of the block, I could stay and be helpful and learn.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">No thank you.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">I left.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">I’m home now, trying to fight the embarrassment and shame of not being Hebrew-speaking enough, or brave enough to try anyhow...</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">I don’t want to make excuses.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">I don't want to write about how it would just be a waste of my time.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">I don't want to write about the reality of my low level of Hebrew speaking and comprehension skills.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">I don’t want to write about how after 15 years living in a Hebrew speaking country, I still don’t have the confidence to understand or express myself in Hebrew.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">I only want to write about the shame I feel right now.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">I want to name it.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">I want to lessen it’s power.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">I want to tell shame that it cannot take up space in my head and body today.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">I want shame to know that it’s annoying and not useful to me.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">I am capable.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">I am smart.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">I function very well in many places in my life.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">I love to learn.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">I love to assist.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">I love to understand.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">Just not in Hebrew.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">And that doesn't make me a worthless person.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<br /><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">Dear Shame,</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">Sometimes things are just hard. It doesn't mean you need to get involved. Hard doesn't mean that everything is hard. Just some things. And it doesn't make me a bad or weak or worthless person because I think it’s hard. T</span>oday I walked away from something hard because it was hard. Period.</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
And you are <b>never ever</b> invited again to my “Sometimes it’s Hard" party!! </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">Yours truly,</span></div>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">Sarah</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div>
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211223.post-1522164159488584032018-09-30T12:31:00.003+02:002018-09-30T20:57:08.862+02:00I miss my Rabbi<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Today is the Hebrew date. 2 years since he left us alone in this world. I don’t even know the English date. This day on the Hebrew calendar that will always be remembered.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<br />
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">I miss my Rabbi. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">Rabbi Kosman left our world too fast. Too fast for me, at least. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">I didn’t get to tell him how much I appreciated what he taught me.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">I wanted to tell him that he taught me to look at every person. Even when they annoy me. Even when they make me feel awkward. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">Even when I feel uncomfortable around them. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">Even when I feel frustrated by something they’ve said or done. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">Even when I allow them to hurt my feelings. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">To look at them, with total love in my heart, and accept them as a human being, Understand them to be a human being, created in the image of our Creator.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">I can no longer call him and ask him what he would recommend in any situation. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">But I can feel his spirit in my heart, and in my body, and know exactly what to do or what to say, or how to react.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">Rabbi Kosman modeled love.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">Rabbi Kosman modeled acceptance. Deep, non-judgmental, acceptance.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">Rabbi Kosman modeled being human, with every flaw.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">And so even when I struggle with this person or that. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">With the choices people around me make that I may not agree or feel comfortable with, I still can love and accept their humanness. I close my eyes. And I feel Rabbi Kosman within me. Around me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">This is what I feel today. A combination of sadness and loss and complete joy and gratitude.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Today I miss my Rabbi.</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211223.post-3993087111925539702018-09-18T13:55:00.001+02:002018-09-18T13:56:45.917+02:00I have to write something....<span style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"You have to write something," a voice inside keeps repeating. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">"But I don't know what to write." Another voice answers back. </span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">"And I fear words aren't enough."</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(28, 30, 33); font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I've read so many other more prolific and articulate words. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(28, 30, 33); font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I tell myself, "Don't bother, you don't have anything important to add." </span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(28, 30, 33); font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">And then another voice becomes adamant, "You can't stay silent!! Someone, somewhere will learn or be inspired or hear...And besides, Yom Kippur is tonight. Life is too short."</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(28, 30, 33); font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">So, I am forcing myself to sit down and write, as my chicken roasts in the oven, and my turkey soup bubbles on the stove</span></span></span><span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(28, 30, 33); font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(28, 30, 33); font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(28, 30, 33); font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I want to say I'm so sad.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(28, 30, 33); font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">And so shocked.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(28, 30, 33); font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">And so angry.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(28, 30, 33); font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">And so disillusioned.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(28, 30, 33); font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">And so inspired.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(28, 30, 33); font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">And so sad.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(28, 30, 33); font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">The 45-year-old man, father, son, brother, and friend who was murdered on Sunday, for being a Jew (and it seems an English speaking Jew), was my next-door neighbor's brother. On one hand it feels really close. The entire Fuld family has been coming to Chashmonaim and staying at my </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(28, 30, 33); font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">neighbor, Moshe's house, twice a year for the past 12 years. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(28, 30, 33); font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">But really, it doesn't matter. Ari Fuld was a innocent human being. It doesn't matter whether I knew him or not. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">He was at the shopping mall, sent on errands for his wife. He was on the phone, as many of us are many times a day, when the terrorist came up behind him and stabbed him. He was targeted because he was a Jew. (And again, it seems from reports on the scene, that the sick, dagger wielding animal was looking for an English-speaking Jew.) He was a man going about his day.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">All the rest of the details are not what I want to focus on here.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Tonight is Yom Kippur. The important day on the Jewish holiday calendar where I look at myself and ask, "What have I done this year to hurt another, to disregard or disrespect, to embarrass or shame another? What have I said or done without consciousness? What have I done to diminish my relationship with G-d?"</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I have a responsibility to answer for myself, my words, and my actions. I want others to call me out when I have said or done something hurtful, or have overstepped my boundaries. But ultimately, I am </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(28, 30, 33); font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">responsible for myself.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Life is so so so so so (did I say, so?) precarious. So precious. So short. Every day is a blessing if I wake up in it. I don't have the energy anymore to spend my time on people or things that I have no control over. Although I do feel that I have responsibility when I can make a difference, to be silent when I have something to say is </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(28, 30, 33); font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">undermining my power.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(28, 30, 33); font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">What I want to share following Ari Fuld's murder is the main message I take from this tragic loss. And that is that the small stuff just doesn't matter. I can control my reactions and what I tell myself. And I can only make a difference first to myself and then to my family. And then, if I have energy leftover, I can make a difference out side of my house. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">We cannot fight for a nation unless we are fighting for ourselves.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">This has been a conceptual understanding for many years. A message that I believed in, but </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(28, 30, 33); font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">didn't know exactly how to follow. I understand now.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(28, 30, 33); font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(28, 30, 33); font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">The loss of life, whether awaited or sudden, makes me look at my mortality and really take in the message that life is too short.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(28, 30, 33); font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(28, 30, 33); font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">My blessing to myself and anyone who has read this far, is that we take the time to set our priorities and values. Make them clear, and then live our lives based on these choices.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(28, 30, 33); font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(28, 30, 33); font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">My nephew posted this a couple weeks ago that I will leave here:</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(28, 30, 33); font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">---------------------------------------------------------</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(28, 30, 33); font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">MAKE A LIST OF THINGS THAT MAKE YOU HAPPY</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(28, 30, 33); font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(28, 30, 33); font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">MAKE A LIST OF THINGS YOU DO EVERY DAY</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(28, 30, 33); font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(28, 30, 33); font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">COMPARE THE LISTS</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(28, 30, 33); font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(28, 30, 33); font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">ADJUST ACCORDINGLY</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #1c1e21; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(28, 30, 33); font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">------------------------------------------------------------------------------</span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211223.post-63852292551462079932018-09-06T20:37:00.001+02:002018-09-07T07:52:17.611+02:00What you don't know about this picture...<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 17px;">Following my post</span><span style="font-size: 17px;"> on Facebook </span><a dir="ltr" href="https://www.blogger.com/null" x-apple-data-detectors-result="0" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors="true">from this past Monday</a><span style="font-size: 17px;">, I would like to give an example of how I think we look at our Facebook friends’ posts, and make assumptions about what we are looking at. When we see so many happy, smiling pictures, we might assume there is only a happy smiling life behind those pictures. If we live in a realistic world, we know that’s not always true. But when the only pictures or posts we see are positive and happy, we may forget about reality and what could actually be happening.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 17px;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">There are any number of positive, sweet thoughts you might have when looking at this picture. </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aoA8NDHo9W4/W5FxTzy_H7I/AAAAAAAAAE4/t9cKguRDsewoo6nz3HacXV1xgvF7cOucwCLcBGAs/s1600/heroabba.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aoA8NDHo9W4/W5FxTzy_H7I/AAAAAAAAAE4/t9cKguRDsewoo6nz3HacXV1xgvF7cOucwCLcBGAs/s320/heroabba.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 17px;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It is a sweet picture. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 17px;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Full of love and connection. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 17px;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Heart-warming. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 17px;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But the story behind it, or the hours that led up to it, are nothing but scary, traumatic and miraculous! </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 17px;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">What you don’t see, is that our 6-month pregnant daughter, Nechama, and our 1.8 year-old grandson, Shachar, were in a car-totalling highway accident on the way to the airport on Sunday with our three nieces. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 17px;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Thank Gd, none of them experienced any internal injuries or broken bones. Lots of bumps and bruises and sore necks. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 17px;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The car that they were driving was totaled. There was an accident on the highway in front of them, for which the car in front of them slowed down. But the driver of the car behind them, didn’t. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 17px;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Coincidentally, there already were emergency vehicles on the scene. And, the police that were present saw the approaching car ram into the car our children were in. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 17px;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">There were loud booms, screaming, crying, body pain, and bewilderment. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 17px;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">They were taken by ambulance to the local hospital immediately. Nechama was sent to the maternity ward where she was put on a fetal monitor for 4 hours. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 17px;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Upon receiving a phone call from their daughter who was in the accident, my brother and sister-in-law immediately drove their van to the hospital. Once everyone was evaluated and then discharged without any crucial physical injuries; our daughter’s luggage retrieved from the damaged car; and a new car seat purchased at the nearest Wal-Mart, they drove back to Baltimore to figure out what to do next.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 17px;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Because our daughter took insurance before they traveled, and the hospital discharge doctor wrote on her papers that she needed to travel with an escort due to her body pain, pregnancy and having to manage a lively toddler on her own, it was decided very quickly that Ari was the best choice to fly in and bring Nechama and Shachar home.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 17px;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This picture was taken the moment Ari arrived in Baltimore at my parent’s home where Nechama and Shachar were staying. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 17px;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It <b>does</b> show the realistic love Ari has for his daughter and grandson, and the deep love and connection Nechama has for her father. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 17px;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It <b>doesn’t</b> show the intense fear, body pain, tears, anxiety and feelings of “what’s going on?” felt by Nechama and Shachar.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 17px;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">What is not known without this information, is the story behind the picture that makes it so much more real and authentic!</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 17px;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">If you just looked at the picture and didn’t know the story, you might think, “That’s so sweet.” </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 17px;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And now that you know the real story behind it, do you understand how your thoughts about it and the feelings it evokes are different?</span></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211223.post-53689288106660741402018-04-08T23:53:00.001+02:002018-04-08T23:53:54.335+02:00What?<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">What?!</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">Isn’t that always the first thought or question we ask when we hear surprising news?</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">When we hear that a married couple we admired is getting divorced. What?!</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">When we hear that a dear friend is diagnosed with breast cancer. What?!</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">When we hear that a young mother-to-be does not carry her pregnancy to term. What?!</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">Or the devastating, inexplicable news we hear that one of our best friend’s 24-year-old sons has died suddenly. WHAT?!</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">What? We ask. What?</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">We immediately want to make sense of what we are hearing. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">Our brains need to make sense of the information we are hearing.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">Our brains need to understand the words and make sense of them.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">So we ask questions to help our “what?”</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">What happened? How did it happen? When did it happen? Who found out? And when? What happened first? Then what?</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">Our brains make order of traumatic information by asking questions.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">It calms down our confusion and disbelief. It calms our fear of the unknown.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 18.4px;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">But really, can we really make sense of tragedy?</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">There is nothing logical about the emotion of pain and grief and loss.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">It’s an extreme emotion.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">It never makes any sense. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">And really, what difference do any of the answers make?</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">The heart of the tragedy is broken. A mother’s heart is broken. A father’s heart is numb. Brothers, sisters, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, and a whole community: all with broken hearts!</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">The loss is unbearable.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">Can we try to let go of our brain’s need to understand and makes sense?</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">We know it doesn’t. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">Instead can we focus on just the fact?</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">Loss. Gone. A young life over. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">Can we just try to hold that?</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">That is what I am trying to do.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">Letting go of my need to know how or why or what or when?</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">And instead, remind my brain that it’s never going to make sense. Never.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">So I prefer to take that energy and give it, instead, to holding and loving and caring and supporting my friend and her family in my heart.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">Because that, I can make sense of:</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">Love in my heart, for my friend in pain. That is real.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">And that is much more helpful to my friend, than the senseless questions that don’t really matter now.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">I challenge us all to let go of the need to know and make sense.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">And just send love from our hearts.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;"></span><br /></div>
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</div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-size: 16pt;">May all our broken hearts find healing, in the right time...</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211223.post-66860164702936100312018-02-25T12:45:00.001+02:002018-02-25T12:45:05.976+02:00I feel responsible...I feel responsible to teach people what I know.<br />
I feel responsible to help each individual in the world know the truth about life and themselves.<br />
I want to teach about shame.<br />
I want to teach about courage.<br />
I want to teach about regret.<br />
I want people to be more solid and knowing in themselves.<br />
I feel responsible to teach what I know. Because I have to. Because I have something to teach. And I want people to learn it.<br />
They will be happier.<br />
They will be more fulfilled.<br />
They will feel more complete.<br />
I know it.<br />
And I feel responsible to teach it.<br />
But how...?<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211223.post-65509227020662369812018-02-12T19:38:00.002+02:002018-02-12T19:38:46.749+02:00Why I've been missing...<span style="font-family: inherit;">I stopped blogging for a couple reasons.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">But I think the return explanation is more important. No reason to blame. Better to take </span>responsibility<span style="font-family: inherit;"> and move on.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I have been spending a lot of time trying to decide how to restart my writing. Really feeling how much I missed it. But hearing the critics in my head saying all kinds of mean things.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Elizabeth Gilbert and Brene Brown have had a lot to do with my return.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Here's what Elizabeth wrote in her newest book, "Big Magic," that got me to write again:</span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px;">“Let me list for you some of the many ways in which you might be afraid to live a more creative life: You’re afraid you have no talent. You’re afraid you’ll be rejected or criticized or ridiculed or misunderstood or—worst of all—ignored. You’re afraid there’s no market for your creativity, and therefore no point in pursuing it. You’re afraid somebody else already did it better. You’re afraid everybody else already did it better. You’re afraid somebody will steal your ideas, so it’s safer to keep them hidden forever in the dark. You’re afraid you won’t be taken seriously. You’re afraid your work isn’t politically, emotionally, or artistically important enough to change anyone’s life. You’re afraid your dreams are embarrassing. You’re afraid that someday you’ll look back on your creative endeavors as having been a giant waste of time, effort, and money. You’re afraid you don’t have the right kind of discipline. You’re afraid you don’t have the right kind of work space, or financial freedom, or empty hours in which to focus on invention or exploration. You’re afraid you don’t have the right kind of training or degree. You’re afraid you’re too fat. (I don’t know what this has to do with creativity, exactly, but experience has taught me that most of us are afraid we’re too fat, so let’s just put that on the anxiety list, for good measure.) You’re afraid of being exposed as a hack, or a fool, or a dilettante, or a narcissist. You’re afraid of upsetting your family with what you may reveal. You’re afraid of what your peers and coworkers will say if you express your personal truth aloud. You’re afraid of unleashing your innermost demons, and you really don’t want to encounter your innermost demons. You’re afraid your best work is behind you. You’re afraid you never had any best work to begin with. You’re afraid you neglected your creativity for so long that now you can never get it back. You’re afraid you’re too old to start. You’re afraid you’re too young to start. You’re afraid because something went well in your life once, so obviously nothing can ever go well again. You’re afraid because nothing has ever gone well in your life, so why bother trying? You’re afraid of being a one-hit wonder. You’re afraid of being a no-hit wonder”</span><span style="color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px;"> </span></div>
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― <a class="authorOrTitle" href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/11679.Elizabeth_Gilbert" style="color: #333333; font-family: Lato, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">Elizabeth Gilbert</a>, <span id="quote_book_link_24487482"><a class="authorOrTitle" href="https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/44044797" style="color: #333333; font-family: Lato, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear</a></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I could not have said it any better.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And so now I am going to fight that voice and write because I WANT to.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I'm going to push myself to do many things just because I want to! </span></div>
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<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;">Today, for example, I spent an hour in my garden pulling weeds. Just </span><span style="color: #181818;">because</span><span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"> I wanted to.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #181818;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">So I want everyone to fight that voice. I want everyone to find their creativity and write, or play, or draw, or bike, or run, or sing, or dance, or </span>colour<span style="font-family: inherit;">, or </span></span><span style="color: #181818;">organise</span><span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;"> that closet.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #181818; font-family: inherit;">Do a little bit of what you want to do everyday...not just what you have to do!</span></div>
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<br />Sarah Smilehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09323948286948542489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211223.post-38581941260579790172018-02-11T23:33:00.001+02:002018-02-11T23:33:32.803+02:00It's been awhileA long while.<br />
a very long while.<br />
like 3 years long while!<br />
I've been afraid to write.<br />
Not sure anyone really cared.<br />
But I want to start writing again.<br />
A lot has changed in three years.<br />
So here I go. Let's see if anyone finds me again.<br />
<br />
<br />Sarah Smilehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09323948286948542489noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211223.post-69860507460046955362015-10-14T22:32:00.000+02:002015-10-14T22:32:00.438+02:00Control what I can control<br />
The only thing I had to worry about when I was in 10th grade was getting caught by my parents for taking a ride to school in a friend's car, instead of taking the bus!<br />
<br />
It's seemingly easy for me to send Elysheva off to school in Jerusalem and tell her not to be afraid. I don't have to get on the bus, or walk the streets to school every day scared that there might be a bomb or an attacker. I have taught my daughter, and all my children, that we cannot let the terrorists terrorize us. We will not be bullied into fear. We must hold the pepper spray, be alert, and try to stay with another person. We must send out positive energy into the world with a smile or a kind word or action.<br />
<br />
<br />
I can't promise her that everything will be fine. I have no way to promise her that. But I can send her off to school with a hug and a kiss and an "I love you."<br />
<br />
I can only control what I can control...Sarah Smilehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09323948286948542489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211223.post-73564728892247884532015-01-20T23:31:00.003+02:002015-01-20T23:51:25.774+02:00You just never know...While I was driving home from my office in Ramat Bet Shemesh tonight, my phone rang from an unidentified number.<br />
<br />
I couldn't get my headphones on fast enough and missed the call.<br />
<br />
I almost never call people back unless they leave a message.<br />
For some reason, which I cannot explain, I called the number right back.<br />
<br />
I announced myself and said, "You just called me?"<br />
"Yeah, hi," the unfamiliar male voice said, as if I should know who it was. "Thanks for calling me back."<br />
"Who is this?" I asked cautiously, not wanting to insult the person.<br />
"Do you remember (let's call him AJ) from a couple years ago?"<br />
<br />
I recognized his name right away and his voice fell into my memory as a client I worked with about 3 years ago. I was never sure why he left therapy. He just decided not to come back one night and I never heard from him again. He was a serious, deep thinking, tortured young man who was afraid to deal with his deeper issues and, I guessed, got scared and ran away. I have thought of him often and wondered how he was doing…<br />
<br />
"Of course I remember you AJ. How are you?"<br />
<br />
"First I want to tell you that I don't know why I left therapy. It was a long time ago, and I always regretted not continuing. You helped me as much as you could. I always think about I how much you helped me and how I should have just stayed."<br />
<br />
"Well, I'm glad to hear from you now. What are you up to these days?"<br />
<br />
"I quit the job I was working at and am now in yeshiva. Nothing much, really."<br />
<br />
"That's something," I answered.<br />
"You always did that. you always made nothing into something."<br />
<br />
I didn't know what to say? Was that a good thing…?<br />
<br />
He went on to tell me that he needed the name of someone who can give pills for a friend. He wasn't sure what that person was called? "I thought of you and maybe you could help me. I hope it's ok that I called."<br />
<br />
Firstly, I was impressed he still had my number.<br />
Secondly, I was happy he felt comfortable to call after he had disappeared.<br />
<br />
We spoke for awhile about what he was looking for and for whom and why.<br />
<br />
Then he said he had another question.<br />
"Was there a name for what I had when I saw you?"<br />
<br />
After I clarified that he wanted to know so he could tell his friend (his girlfriend), I answered him:<br />
"Well, if I remember correctly, you came to me right after you had a suicide attempt, or were talking about wanting to kill yourself. You were feeling pretty desperate. I'm not a diagnostician, but I would probably say you were depressed, or were struggling with depression. You weren't sleeping at night. You stayed up all night watching movies and slept most of the day. And you only watched meaningful moves or movies that had a message."<br />
<br />
He was surprised that I remembered so much of his story.<br />
<br />
I told him I think of him often and have really wondered how he was doing. He caught me up a little on his life now, and I assured him I would look for a psychiatrist for his friend. I asked him to give me a day and he should call me back tomorrow.<br />
<br />
I hung up and looked up to the stars in the clear crisp dark sky.<br />
<br />
And I said out loud to myself, "You just never know."Sarah Smilehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09323948286948542489noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211223.post-61143189980437477572014-12-05T01:48:00.002+02:002014-12-05T01:56:13.942+02:00It's not worth it.Many people ask me, "How do you do it?"<br />
<br />
How do you let your son go off like that?<br />
<br />
Let me remind you, my son was in the IDF for 5 years.<br />
I learned not to ask questions that I knew he couldn't answer. Wouldn't answer.<br />
If I wanted him to speak to me about anything, I needed to learn to accept that he would tell me things when he wanted, and not make a big deal, otherwise, he wouldn't tell me a thing.<br />
Which he basically didn't!<br />
<br />
Let me also remind you, my son is now a 25-year-old man. He has his own money and can go and do whatever and wherever he wants.<br />
While he was a soldier, I learned how to let go.<br />
<br />
It wasn't worth it not to.<br />
<br />
While DB was in the IDF, my mother always told me that having a son in the army would prepare me for being a mother-in-law. She said, "You can have an opinion, but who cares. You can want him to come home. But too bad. You can want him to tell you what is going on in his life, but he probably won't."<br />
<br />
So I learned, it's not worth it to get upset, or worry. Just to accept the new normal.<br />
<br />
I trained myself to know what questions to ask. And not react to his answers.<br />
<br />
If I want him to tell me things, it's not worth having a strong reaction.<br />
I nod.<br />
I say, "Okay."<br />
I ask another basic question. And I take his answer as if it's normal.<br />
<br />
So when he told me he hitch-hiked from Honduros to Nicargua, with an ex-drug dealer. And then stayed in his house for a night or two.<br />
I nodded.<br />
I said, "Okay."<br />
And I took that as if it was normal.<br />
<br />
When he told me he's been traveling with a 20-something year old Austrian girl and sharing a room in the hostel with her.<br />
I nodded.<br />
I said, "Okay."<br />
And I jokingly asked when the last time he took a shower was?!<br />
<br />
And when he told me he went scuba diving in Belize with sharks. And he was so close he could have kissed the shark.<br />
I nodded.<br />
I said, "Okay, cool."<br />
And asked if he saw any pretty fish?<br />
<br />
So, you see, it's not worth getting upset, or disciplining him, or criticizing, or begging him to just come home! He's on an important journey in his life.<br />
<br />
As I see it, I have two choices: Either worry and be nervous about him and the things he is doing. And spend my days wishing he was home.<br />
Or let him go. And accept that he is not coming home anytime too soon. He is having the time of his life. He is consciously not living by any rules but the ones he has decided to put upon himself. He is experiencing things that most of us only dream about.<br />
<br />
And frankly, I'm envious as hell!!<br />
<br />
So that's how I do it.<br />
I just do it.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Sarah Smilehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09323948286948542489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211223.post-49070712113280307442014-11-12T09:12:00.001+02:002014-11-12T09:13:30.165+02:00Devoted Mom or Annoying Israeli?That's the question I asked myself yesterday:<br />
<br />
Am I a devoted, caring, responsible Mom who would do anything in her power for her children, or am I just an aggressive, annoying Israeli who pushes to get what she wants when she wants it?<br />
<br />
I ask myself this because I believe if I was still living in the States, I might not have been as aggressive as I was to get what I wanted. It's not proper behavior to call the doctor's office over and over again. It also wouldn't be proper to follow the doctor around the clinic to insure I get the prescription I needed for my child.<br />
<br />
On Sunday, Ely told me she had only 4 more pills of Concerta left. She needs the Concerta in school to help her concentrate and get through a day of learning. She is very good about taking it when she needs, and not taking it when she doesn't. I had exactly three days to get the prescription refilled so she would be able to go to school today and concentrate.<br />
<br />
*Side point: She needs the Concerta for the exact reason that she waited until she had 4 pills left to tell me!* <br />
<br />
The system here in Israel to refill medications is not always so simple. And, I remind you, it's all in Hebrew. I am usually able to refill prescriptions online through my health service's website. I have taught myself how to navigate through the Hebrew and usually get my prescriptions.<br />
<br />
But I found out that Concerta, because it is a controlled substance, is a different process. The doctor cannot issue a prescription that I can print up online. I have to go to the office to pick up the piece of paper. And because I couldn't understand the Hebrew on the website that said that, I decided to call the doctor's office directly. I was running out of time and needed to get the medication.<br />
<br />
I called yesterday in the morning to ask for a prescription. I told her I didn't understand what the website said and could she please get the prescription for me. The secretary said she would leave a message for the doctor and they would call me back. I requested that she put a "rush" tag on the request. Then I hung up.<br />
<br />
Two hours later, the devoted mother in me was starting to get nervous that Ely wouldn't have her medication for school today. So I called again when the afternoon secretary arrived. I wanted to know when I would know if the prescrition was ready? She asked me to hold while she searched for it.<br />
<br />
"It's here," she said. "But our offices are closing now. You can come back in the morning at 8:00 am to get it."<br />
<br />
That wasn't going to work for me. Or for Ely.<br />
<br />
In my broken Hebrew I pleaded, "My daughter needs this medication for school tomorrow. Isn't there anyone there you can leave it with and I'll come now?"<br />
<br />
She was being surprisingly accommodating, "If you can be here in 15 minutes, I will leave it across the hall with the women's clinic."<br />
<br />
I was there in 20 minutes, and both offices were closed. <br />
<br />
Now what?<br />
<br />
I noticed down the hall that the door to the doctor's office was still open and the light was on. I headed towards her room, when the doctor walked out of another door heading towards her room. I called down the hall to her. (This is the part where I think I became Israeli!!)<br />
<br />
Thankfully this pediatrician is American and very caring. I explained what happened with my not understanding the website, ordering the prescription from her through the secretary, blah, blah blah. She walked me to the secretary's office to see if it was still unlocked so she could go in to get what she had already prepared for me. Locked.<br />
<br />
I started to whine. "What am I supposed to do? My daughter needs this medication for school tomorrow. I can't wait until tomorrow to get it, and I know the pharmacy is open for another hour. Can you please help me?"<br />
<br />
Ten minutes later I was standing in line at the pharmacy with a new prescription that the kind doctor had reissued to me. I thanked her profusely, knowing she stayed after hours to do this for me! <br />
<br />
Twenty minutes later I walked out of the pharmacy, Concerta in hand!<br />
<br />
I thought to myself: I don't think I could have done this in the States? I've become such an Israeli. Calling the office over and over - asking for a special favor. Then pushing my way into the doctor's office to get that prescription! I've become so annoying.<br />
<br />
And then, Ely went off to school today with her Concerta and a "Thanks Mom. You're the best."<br />
<br />
And then I just became a good mom again, living in Israel.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Sarah Smilehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09323948286948542489noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211223.post-41270968474127123782014-10-21T22:21:00.001+02:002014-10-21T22:21:31.349+02:00Reality is allowed to be hard!I'm finding it so fascinating that when I say that I don't like my reality or that it's hard, people I love dearly, seem to feel the need to suggest that I find things to do to keep myself busy. Or be happy or be thankful for what I have. Or don't think about the reality - distract myself. Why is that?<br />
<br />
No where have I said I am not grateful, thankful or feeling blessed by the good I have in my life.<br />
I appreciate every blessing I have been given. <br />
I recognize it.<br />
I'm thankful for it.<br />
I love it.<br />
I know all the things I "should" do or feel.<br />
I know. I'm very deeply aware.<br />
<br />
Yet, none of that takes away from the fact that the reality is hard.<br />
I'm not depressed by it. I'm not wallowing in it.<br />
I'm only recognizing and accepting that what I am feeling about my reality right now is hard. <br />
<br />
I am feeling it.<br />
<br />
Suddenly, my children - who I have put my full heart and soul and energy and life into for the past 25 years - have gone off alone or with their significant others and are creating their own lives where they don't need or want me.<br />
<br />
So what if that is what I have raised them to be able to do. So what if that is what I have prayed for them to be able to do. <br />
The reality is hard.<br />
<br />
I don't need anyone to try to make me feel better. I'm fine.<br />
<br />
Validating might be nice, though.<br />
Why do people around me seem to have such difficulty validating negative feelings?<br />
They seem to be uncomfortable with real and difficult feelings.<br />
Hard and difficult does not mean impossible.<br />
<br />
Reality is hard. Period.<br />
Yeah. It would be different if I was wallowing or not functioning. But I'm functioning.<br />
<br />
I'm actually celebrating how great it is!<br />
<br />
Yet. It's still hard.Sarah Smilehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09323948286948542489noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211223.post-87073681247715584452014-07-11T07:11:00.001+02:002014-07-11T07:11:13.806+02:00Today. Friday, July 11I woke up today and decided I needed to write.<br />
<br />
Last night I baked two batches of chocolate chip cookies and two batches of ginger cookies. MB will make two trays of potato kugel.<br />
<br />
Our yishuv will be bringing Shabbat food to the soldiers on the border of Gaza.<br />
<br />
NED went to bed alone last night. Not knowing where her soldier husband is.<br />
<br />
DB helped me make the cookies, saying, "I can't believe I'm here making cookies, and not there."<br />
<br />
Ari is on a bike ride. Hope he has his gun with him.<br />
<br />
ELY has a friend sleeping over.<br />
<br />
I'm going back into the kitchen to prepare for Shabbat. We will be hosting one of DB's army buddies, as well as MB's newly married friend who has been in and out of bomb shelters in Ashdod.<br />
<br />
It's so hot. I think about our soldiers out their in this heat. I worry about them and then get frustrated that there is nothing I can do.<br />
<br />
I want to go to the beach, but there are missiles flying over the beaches. I feel a little guilty for going to the beach when others are hiding in their shelters.<br />
<br />
This is my existence right now. And I will not let them beat me.<br />
Sarah Smilehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09323948286948542489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211223.post-37086842191779065462014-07-11T06:59:00.002+02:002014-07-11T06:59:44.384+02:00My reality and your realityMy reality is different than your reality.<br />
<br />
And yet so much is the same.<br />
<br />
Both our lives go on.<br />
In my reality and your reality, we both wake up in the morning to start our day and go to work.<br />
In my reality and your reality, we both have to go food shopping, and clothes shopping, and run our errands to the bank and post office.<br />
In my reality and your reality, we both have to balance our checkbooks and make sure we can pay our bills.<br />
In my reality and your reality, we both have to make dinner for our families.<br />
In my reality and your reality, we both have to run a load or two or three through the washer and then dry, fold and put away the clean clothes.<br />
In my reality and your reality, we both have to scrub our toilets and sinks, and vacuum and/or wash our floors.<br />
In my reality and your reality, we both have to take out the garbage.<br />
In my reality and your reality, we both have to brush our teeth and wash our faces.<br />
In my reality and your reality we both have to hug and kiss our children.<br />
<br />
So many things are the same....and then so many are different.<br />
<br />
Today I am sensitively aware of how different.<br />
I chose to live in Israel, and therefore I chose to see how different our realities are.<br />
I do wish my reality was different.<br />
But I don't wish to live your reality so that I can have that different reality.<br />
<br />
I'm staying here.<br />
In my reality, which is a lot like yours, but so very different!<br />
<br />
Sarah Smilehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09323948286948542489noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211223.post-67367309974037544542014-06-10T00:52:00.001+03:002014-06-10T00:52:11.394+03:00I wanna write....<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.09375); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;"><div>
I wanna write about my cousin Philip dying.</div>
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I wanna write about my daughter getting married.</div>
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I wanna write about my finishing teaching my classes.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I wanna write about my Rebbetzin passing away without warning. And,how lost and scared I feel.</div>
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I wanna write about my new relationships with my new sons (in law).</div>
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<br /></div>
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I wanna write about my other daughter getting married.</div>
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I wanna write about how different my kids are. And how after 25 years of parenting, I still struggle with parenting each child differently.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I wanna write about my frustrations and disappointments.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
But right now all I can really write about is how, if I was to die tomorrow, my family and this house would fall apart. I seem to be the only one who knows where anything goes.</div>
<div>
No one pays attention to the details. No one notices what's out of place.</div>
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<br /></div>
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No one sees the pile of dishes or laundry. Or things to put away.</div>
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No one seems to care </div>
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So it all becomes my responsibility. And it pisses me off. I don't want it.</div>
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Maybe I've been a bad parent and enabled my family not to take responsibility. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Whatever it is, I'm thankful to have healthy children and friends.</div>
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The rest is just stuff to complain about.</div>
</span>Sarah Smilehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09323948286948542489noreply@blogger.com1