all alone

A tear
trickles down
her face.

A loving hand,
smoothly
brushes
it off.

No words
need be
spoken.
For she
is loved.

But then
she wakes up
crying.

Tears fall.

No gentle touch
is there,
to wipe
the tears.

And so
they fall.
And fall.
And fall.

But she
is
all
alone.

She may
have just
woken up,
but
in truth,
the nightmares
have just
begun.

Dear...

Dear _____,

Do you remember this time, about a year ago? I remember it so clearly. We were so close. At that point, I really didn't think anything could get in the way of our relationship. I felt like I could tell you anything; your acceptance worked wonders in opening me up.

And then it all changed. Overnight. It was like a giant blow to my heart. I cried and I cried, like I had never cried before. And you? You seemed to think it was all fine, didn't you? You had no inkling of the hurt you had so callously caused me.

Time heals all wounds. Determined as I was to lock myself up, to stay away from you and your hurtfulness, I found myself inexplicably drawn to you. You're a fantastic listener and a special person, how could I have anticipated the additional rounds of hurt you've inflicted on me? And through it all, you remain oblivious. You have no idea how hurt I am, do you? You don't know that every time I think about you and your actions a piercing pain shoots through me like a bullet, taking the life out of me.

You seem to sense that something has been wrong lately. Ironically, you take it personally. You think it's only you. But are you willing to do anything about it? You ask me if something is wrong; I can't answer. I would never confirm it; I've learned my lesson. But somewhere in the recesses of my mind I know why I am so hesitant to deny it. I want you to know what you've done. I want you to know how you've hurt me. I want you to realize that you've been playing with fire- and someone is getting burned. And so I avoid it; I avoid you. I don't want to meet, like you say you want. Do you really want to?

I'm hurting now _____. Hurting so badly, I had to put up a protective wall to stop the pain from taking over. Yet there's a crack; it has your name on it. Because the pain you caused doesn't go away so fast. Every time you make an effort at contact, I have that pain to deal with all over again. Opposing sides begin to battle in my head. Ignore her. She can't make you answer. But you know that the other side always wins. Inexplicably, I answer you. I keep it short. I keep myself out of the conversation. I can't afford to go down that road again.

I think of the conversations we have had with shame. How could I have ever told you the things I did? How could I have allowed myself to open up to someone like that? It's a shame _____. There are so many amazing lessons I thought I could have learned from you. I wish I did; you seem to have a lot to offer. But as I sit here, willing myself to get over it, yet losing the battle, I know that I've only learned one thing from you: Don't ever open yourself up to others.

I wish this were an email. I wish I had the guts to type your address into the bar and press send. But I don't. I continue to act as if you haven't hurt me, and you remain oblivious. But I wonder how many years I will spend fighting the pain you have caused. And worst of all, I wonder when I will stop wishing I could call you, talk to you, tell you everything. Because despite everything, you were the best listener I ever met. And I don't think I will ever stop hating the part of me that wishes we were close again.

Sincerely,

DF

Numbness is Bliss

They say that dieting is harder once you've been on it and cheated. It makes you scared to go back on. You simultaneously taste the sinful foods and remember the deprivation that was your diet.

I think it's that way with feelings too. When you are accustomed to numbness, then forced to feel again, it's lethal to go back to numbness. You can't possibly let yourself feel when you have this taste of psychological freedom in your mouth.

But is it freedom? Is freedom a matter of being afraid of reality? Or is it a matter of being afraid to face that reality? Is that a choice? How can one choose between those options?

Why would a person expose the raw pain of their crumbling world when they can retreat to the safety and security of their little play life?

When does feeling cease to be an option?

Good yom tov

It's erev Pesach, and I have a lot of more important things to do than sit at the computer and type up a blog post. And I had in mind to write some much more positive blog posts. I wanted to write about how amazing it was that Hashem sent us the things we needed for yom tov in the most incredible way. I wanted to write about how amazing it is that three years after they filed for foreclosure on our house we are still pesach cleaning the very same home we did three years ago. As my father says "Hashem is very good to us; He gave us very dumb enemies."

But right now, all I can think about is the ceiling in the kitchen. Or, shall I say, the former ceiling in the kitchen? All that's left of it is a huge puddle and a gaping bubble of collected rainwater... I don't even know what to think, what to say. I feel like there must be a lesson that Hashem is trying to teach us. Last year the fridge broke on erev Pesach, this year the ceiling collapsed... Just when we thought we were finally finished with the stresses, finally finished worrying about the bills...

All I can say is, I hope that just as Hashem took the yidden out of their slavery and misery in mitzrayim, hopefully He will take us out of this. Hopefully we will spend next year in yerushalayim, as we eat the karban pesach in happiness and content.

Have a good yom tov, Leshana habah beyerushalayim!