What if....

 What if I was strong, brave and healthy the way I pray for my children to be?

What if I could acknowledge my shortcomings without drowning in them?

What if I could feel all my feelings without the extremes of numbness or being consumed by them?

What if my children could here me without disintegrating?

What if I could focus on their gifts? They are the most precious, my marriage is precious, my life and its purpose is precious, even if im as yet unsure what that purpose is.

The Scar

My essence and core was represented by a scar, a length of subtly shiny indentation on my skin. It represented what should have been a minor detour in my early existence, but it came to define me. I let it become my compass and the captain of my ship. Where there should have been a little nothing, there was with in me a well of ugliness, a pit of I can’t, a vortex of fears with out names.  

My scar fueled my need for physical modesty, the cause of my scar, early childhood surgeries fueled my aborted accomplishments. There was never a time in my life in which I found it hard to cover my body. In fact I found it hard not to. From a young age I wanted the feeling of my body being covered right down to wearing socks to bed. I saw myself as other.

My mother always bought me one piece swim suits even as a toddler. Even as a toddler I saw my body as this grotesque colossal monstrosity because obviously it had to be covered while other girls where made delicate and exquisite as pixies. My mother wanted to protect me from scrutiny, questions and ridicule, so clothing must always cover my scar. She wanted to protect my operated body so I strengthened my “I cant muscle”, my “I’m afraid muscle”’ and “the world wants to hurt me muscle”. 

I never imagined these things would follow me into adulthood, into marriage and into motherhood. It had always been so easy for me to hide behind spirituality and good girl syndrome. I didn’t realize that in me, these things were no lofty accomplishment. I’m only now beginning to peel away the masquerade. I hope I someday find the soul buried beneath the scar tissue.

Blessings

Blessings. I've had a lot of time to reflect on blessings recently. Past blessings I was in too much of fog to see even though rested right on the tip of my nose. Present blessings, in the form of my beautiful child, my Yosef, myself blossoming with emerging life....Baruch Hashem so much blessing shining with blinding light that blurs out so much from my past that I've waited a lifetime to forget. Angst, isolation, rejection, broken hearts, I don't remember why these negative things felt so strong once upon a time. And future blessings bshaa tovah, in G-d's good time. 5 years ago my life was filling with abundant blessing. Marriage, Israel, my son who brings me so much light. But the fog around me just wouldn't let me see it.

Do I know you?

A close friend once told me that sharing intimate details about her life had caused others to feel they knew her better than they really did. These individuals also used this knowledge about her as licence to offer commentary and unsolicited advice about her life choices. Sadly I was probably guilty of treating her this way until very recently as well.
Yesterday something happened which caused me to experience the above on the most amplified scale. Someone from my childhood posted two statuses, minutes apart expressing the deepest despair and what I felt was a cry for help. I knew from previous FB posts of this same individual that they had been through some really painful stuff that I hope nobody ever experiences and consequently felt very much alone in the world and both helpless and hopeless. I wouldn't have any connection to this childhood acquaintance except for FB, I wouldn't have any knowledge about these very intimate details of this person's life except for FB. Never-the-less, a cry for help is a cry for help. I knew I couldn't do very much half way across the world, but I wrote what I felt were words of encouragement under the status, tried to let this person know that they are worthwhile. When this was rebuffed, I tried private messaging the person to let them know that I was there to listen. They answered with a single sentence of one of the very sad and painful things that occurred in their life recently. I went on and wrote a paragraph of encouragement, some words of which I debated writing. I can't say I deeply regret any of what I wrote, but I then had the humbling experience. That is when I was put in my place. This individual politely reminded me that we don't really know each other anymore.
Facebook and other social media that has emerged in the last decade gives us access into the lives of people who may never have stayed connected with and often people who we never met. We can share the most intimate details of lives verbally and visually with the entire world in an instant. And we can offer support, advice and sometimes less pleasant interactions with people we may have not stayed in contact with or don't even know. But the question is, should we? Something to ponder.

Echo Chamber

Recently my husband and I decided over coffee that entitlement, validation and victimization are the greatest idolatry of the times we are living in. That's not to say that people's feelings and experiences aren't legitimate, but rather while we spend all this time talking about "naratives" and "the dialogue", all we are really interested in is the "soliloquy" or "monologue". We don't really listen to eachother, we are constantly thinking of our next commentary. We create echo chambers for ourselves both on and off the internet and further abuse the internet as our own personal soapbox.
Take for example three different scenarios. The first, a well known rabbi and creator of an institution makes a Tisha B'Av speech in response to a viral FB video about abuse in the Jewish community. The said video was powerful and was simply put out there to create awareness and open the dialogue for change and improvement of a destructive situation in our community. It was made by a young man who was a survivor of abuse.   For those not familiar, Tisha B'Av speeches are by definition strong and a call to self examination. A young woman who unfortunately was a victim....no wait let me rephrase that a survivor of abuse, a warrior and  a spokesperson for child victims of abuse took the rabbi's words personally and.....out of context. Let's be honest, she  and many others are just not in that place. And the rabbis message while well intentioned, was possibly not worded and expressed with that best judgement and sensitivity. This young woman then went on to make a FB post on Jewish Community Watch. The sole purpose of this group is to expose abusers and provide an outlet for survivors of abuse. In her post she dissects what she sees as the faults of 3 minutes of an hour long speech. The 100s of responses from many people who have never even heard of this rabbi spiraled so out of control that by the end of this thread this rabbi was suddenly an abuser himself and hiding something?! Needless to say, his response which was supposed to be an apology came off as defensive and a list of his merits in helping victims of abuse. I realize that humility is a virtue but what would you do?
The second example, a young woman is new to a country and got caught doing something she didn't realize was illegal. There are a lot of details to this story such as that she didn't realize what she did was illegal (she didn't know she was supposed to validate a monthly bus pass each time she enters the bus or train. She was caught and subsequently fined), she felt that she was a first time offender and should have had warning, she felt her so called crime wasn't really a crime as she had already paid for her monthly pass and THATS IT and now she is refusing to pay the fine and willing to pay up to 10x the fine to a lawyer ON PRINCIPLE, TO PROVE A POINT. She posted on a FB group seeking sympathy. Ok I think she really wanted to know what the consequences of her not paying the fine were, but when people told her the consequences and nicely tried to explain the transport system and that maybe she should just pay the fine and move on.....she cursed each and every one of them out in the most vile, furious manner. This post led to other posts etc. If you don't really want advice, why pretend to seek it on the internet?
The final scenario I am going to be a bit more vague on. I am in a FB group which is dedicated to things of more frivolous nature, yet necessary and healthy in theory to the wellbeing of many women. A woman in the group politely posted a question regarding whether something would be PC or rude to do. Many responded and likewise a friend of mine responded. My friends response was the opposite of everybody else, but was based with great sensitivity on her own life experiences and the life experiences of many others with whom she is friends or acquaintances. I want to add, my friend G-d bless her is not subtle, her actual vocal volume is quiet, but she expresses her self with strength and conviction. Many people chose to be offended and rather than listen, added there own barrage of commentary. The negative cycle that resulted was so sad. My friend if you are reading this, I am keeping this vague because I respect you and your privacy and because I am big enough to admit that I can never really known the depth of your experiences enough to write about them. And also in keeping this vague I am in no way trying to minimize what happened and its results.
People of the world, the internet is not our soapbox, we are not all dictators of our own little city states. It's wonderful to express your opinions and it's wonderful to push for change, but if somebody doesn't agree it's an opportunity for growth, an opportunity for listening, an opportunity for dialogue. DIALOGUE!
Typed words can hurt and destroy. Choose them carefully. Life is precious, people created B'tzelem Elokim (in G-d's image) are precious. Love to the possibly 5 people who read my blog, 4 whom might be family.

Indoor Voice

I have tried a handful of times to teach my students in summer camp about "indoor/outdoor voices". It doesn't work and not just because it doesn't translate well into Hebrew but more importantly it doesn't translate well into the Israeli culture. There is one way to speak in this country and its at the top of your lungs!
Yesterday I experienced a proverbial electrical shortage where my anxiety and ADD ridden brain did not process the Israeli culture I am living in. My brain was also overloaded from a morning full of healthy, boisterous 10 year olds and my own personal stresses. My electrical circuit burst. I behaved and spoke in a way that was for me regrettable in a professional situation. While I am doing much better today, I still haven't fully forgiven myself.
The question arises in me, how do we balance the many facets of our life, mental health and make up, surrounding stresses whether they be personal, cultural, professional...our responsibilities to G-d, our family, our job, our world. And how do we forgive ourselves for being infinitely far away from perfection and getting it right.
I don't have an answer but maybe asking these questions is the first step.

Nothing

"Okay Morales, what do you feel?" And I said "Nothing, I'm feeling nothing".
My mother-in-law recently noticed I hadn't written a blog post for a while. Generally writing comes to me when I am in the heat of emotion. Lately I feel the most deadening nothing. The American election? Nothing. World terrorism? Nothing. The re-rise of anti-semitism? Nothing. The majority's indifference or denial of the re-rise of anti-semitism? Nothing. The rising cost of life? Nothing.
This afternoon, a mother of one of the children I am teaching came into my classroom demanding in Hebrew if her child was progressing in English. Let's skip over the irony for a moment. I am the teacher, the adult , the professional. But I sank and became, the subordinate, a frightened child and extremely unprofessional. Let me give you a frame of reference. The philosophy of my place of employment is teaching a language immersion style. This means only using the language you are teaching. They also pay very poorly, but I took the job. I have integrity even if my entire salary is funneling into child care and even if I feel that most of the kids don't really want to be there. Sometimes I feel like a glorified English speaking babysitter who is being forced to speak broken Hebrew to her little charges. Anyway, I fumbled and jumbled to this mother in Hebrew and scurried to assign some homework. Then I got called into my boss's office and she requested I speak to the mother. Between my English and my husbands Hebrew we proceeded to explain that her child is weak student and compensates for it by being a bully...
I don't know what happened afterward. I feel the most bottomless nothing.