Fear + Forget = Fraud

Pretending to be strong will no longer serve me or G-d

I need help. Tonight while watching TV on the couch with my 12 year old Hillel, I gasped when a character slit another’s throat, my body seized in terror and howled,

“Turn it off dammit! Enough! I told you I can’t watch that crap! You’ve never had a knife at your throat.”

He started to tremble and cry, “But Mom it’s just a show!”

“Shut up! You don’t understand! You’ve never been kidnapped!”

He ran to his room and slammed the door.

I collapsed and cried in shame.

I’ve never dealt with the trauma of being violently kidnapped on my honeymoon 24 years ago nor the traumatic humiliating end to my marriage 18 years later.

Plus there’s too much trauma in my childhood with a drug addicted father, an angry mother and a bipolar, sometimes violent, brother.

Forget + Fear = Fraud

Last night, in my moment of shattered anger, I realized all my years of trying to forget my fears, has made me a fraud.

I’m not the strong, resilient woman I project. A virtual slit across my throat quickly revealed the terror and pain raging to gush out.

I’ve tried to hide this from my sons, friends and every man I dated since my divorce.

But there is one I cannot hide from, G-d.

As I prepare for Rosh Hashana, I feel vulnerable, raw and alone.

I crave to hear the sound of the shofar to wake my soul and remind me that I am G-d’s beloved.

Rosh Hashanah is my time to release the vows I made to G-d and write new ones.

Unlike my marriage, with G-d I get another chance, every New Year.

My sacred secret spiritual meditation of annulling my vows to G-d is called hatarat nedarim. This annual Jewish ritual of introspection will free me from my past promises to be brave, strong and benevolent. I thought last year I could best serve G-d by doing mitzvahs and ignoring my wounded soul.

I’ve harshly judged others for going to therapy and “doing the work.” Hah! They’re weak! Look at me! I’m gone through hell and I’m fine, no, I’m amazing!

No, I’m a really good liar — to myself and everyone.

I’m not amazing, actually I’m terrified to do “the work”. I do not want to re-live my pain. But everytime I watch a scary movie with my son, the feeling of the knife stabbing into my skin at my throat and between my legs is as real as it was then. The triggers will always trigger me until I am taught how to move them into the past.

Before I get into asking G-d for forgiveness for false pride (come on I have to save something for Yom Kippur) right now I want to stand emotionally naked in front of G-d and renew my soul.

Rosh Hashanah is when I remember that G-d loves me and like a good relationship, it’s a partnership. I can pray, but I too must take action and do my part to make it work.

So my action is finding a trauma therapist. I believe there are healers that are good at what they do professionally and spiritually they allow G-d to speak through their words, hands, and energy. He or she is waiting for me to show up.

G-d I promise this coming year I will be true to you, true to myself and true to the ones I love. With your love, I will find the courage to seek help, face my fears, and overcome my past trauma with humility and grace.

But first I have to apologize to my son.

I knocked on Hillel’s door.

“Honey, it’s Mom.”

I walked in his room with a tear-stained smile.

His expression changed from anger to compassion.

“Hillel, I’m so sorry I yelled at you sweetheart. It’s not OK. I’m not OK.”

Sometimes I think G-d speaks through my son.

“Mom I want you to get better. I know you can get better. Remember, it’s OK to ask for help.”

“I promise you, G-d willing, I will.”

“No Mom, God won’t will it. You need to find a solution. G-d will make sure it works.

So now it’s time to pray… and find a good therapist.

Shana Tova.

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