Walking the tightrope

Do you ever feel like your walking a tightrope?

Perhaps the tightrope in your life is the thin taut line between peace or chaos, hope or despair, safety or danger. Perhaps your tightrope is the line between knowing when to provide for your children or when to allow them to be independent, bonding with your child or being over protective.

I have never walked across a tightrope. I imagine the feeling. The first few baby steps. The fear of falling, shaking, trembling with excitement. The rope rebels, shivering underneath you. Arms flail. Willing yourself not to look down. Teetering on the edge. Desperate to find the delicate balance. The rope suddenly seems so long.

Somewhere in the middle you become aware that your feet have become one with the rope. Your body in perfect harmony. Steady arms. Light steps. Confident. The rope now seems short.

You reach your goal safely. You look back and realize the rope never became firmer. You relaxed, gained confidence were able to cross with ease. You feel empowered, courageous. Eventually the rope holds no attraction, it no longer poses a challenge, there is no risk. You raise the rope higher a need to satisfy the thrill seeker within you.

I have a tightrope in my life. The name of my tightrope is religion.

My three older siblings are religious. They believe in God follow the Torah and its laws. I imagine their spiritual world a mountain. Covered in beautiful wild flowers. Fresh air . Sweet smelling scent. The climb tough. The goal rewarding, priceless.

My three younger siblings are no longer religious. I think they still believe in God but they have left the path of the Torah. I imagine their spiritual world as a murky river. Snaking its way deep in a valley. Muddy waters. A swim might feel refreshing but soon leaves you suffocating, gasping for air.

Like my position in the middle of the family I feel like I am walking on a tightrope between these two worlds. Somewhere on my tightrope their two worlds merge creating a space of turmoil, uncertainty, and hostility.

Some days I walk across the tightrope I feel like God is lifting me. Walking on air. My body light, weightless. I almost dance my way across. The journey is effortless the view is beautiful, pretty. I walk with confidence.

Some days the rope seems jagged, frayed. I walk alone on the edge. A precarious balance.  I see shiny treasures buried in the river beneath me. Enticing me. From up here they appear shiny, glistening in the grey water below. Its only once you have dived in you realize it is all an illusion. The gold fake. The treasure worthless.

I need to choose a world. A world I can belong in. A world where the doubt and  confusion disappears. 

In my heart I know which world will leave me empty, my life worthless. Deep down I know which world will leave me fulfilled, my existence meaningful.

Yet I am still standing here on this tightrope. Conflicted.

Sleep deprivation

I am now experiencing the joy of a mother with a child who refuses to sleep. This week, last week, next week all seem to have melted into one long never ending day. There are mornings I get up not sure which day I am greeting. I see the world around me in a haze.

I jump into an icy cold shower hoping it will lift the fog I see through my partially closed eyes. Not a coffee drinker so no help there.

My head heavy as a brick only sheer willpower preventing me from collapsing to the ground into blissful sleep.

I hear sounds of a hungry baby I rush to my daughter as fast as my sleep deprived body will allow me. I feel my baby's squirming little body relax against mine as I feed her. Her breathing deepens, her eyes close, ever so gently I carry her to the crib. 

I lie in my bed beside her mind racing I know I am missing something today possibly an important appointment. The piece of information is lodged in the corner of my mind just out of reach, taunting me. I give up the struggle, let it go, I do not have the strength to capture the thought.

My brain surrenders I am drifting off to sleep I hear a small whimper. I am instantly alert the whimpers now turn into cries. I pick my daughter up hold her close she rests peacefully her small head burrowed into my shoulder. I feel the rhythm of her heart beating against mine I talk soft words she does not understand my voice soothing her.

As she dreams I read the latest news on our computer the words do not register. My mind only accepts the knowledge necessary for its survival.

As I swaddle my baby in her favorite pink bunny rug I pray. I pray for sleep, I pray for sanity, I beg rest for my burning weighted eyes.

Not even ten minutes later I see two chubby legs waving in the air. I look over at my daughter she smiles I smile back at her. I manage to grab a camera and record her adorable squeals as she informs me in baby babble of all the reasons she is not interested in staying on the crib. These are the moments I live for. Moments of pure love and pride I know it is all worth it.

My family and friends will watch the video and see only her cuteness. One day I to will look back and only remember the joy as I took the video without the desperation I now feel for sleep. I need sleep!!

The First Shabbat

As the week ends and Shabbat approaches I find myself thinking of an inspiring story my husband shared with me. The story of his first Shabbat.

My husband was raised in a non religious home. Attended a non religious school. He believed in God but practised little of the Torah's laws. As he approached his 13th Birthday in honour of his Bar Mitzva he decided to accept upon himself one Mitzva. He would no longer eat Non Kosher meat.

The first giant step on the journey to becoming the man he is today.

As a young teenager he travelled to Israel with is father. There he witnessed the joy of the religious people celebrating Shabbat and his soul yearned to be a part of it.

Back home he went to speak to the Rabbi at his school. He expressed his concern on losing the money he earned by working in his father shop on Shabbat. The Rabbi told him if he observed Shabbat God would find a way to give him the money elsewhere. Sure enough that very same week his father decided to keep the shop open late on Thursday nights. During those two hours he received  the same pay as working an entire day on Saturday.

His first Shabbat. A quiet day spent in his bedroom alone. He worried by leaving his room he might accidentally do something that was not allowed. For 24 hours he read and slept. He did not know any of the laws all he knew was that he wanted to keep Shabbat. No family meal, no wine, no challah, but a day he will always remember.  

As I rush around preparing for Shabbat I look at my husband. I think of him as a little boy, how much he has given up, I know how special this day is to him. I see how far he has come and gain a new appreciation for this holy day.

Communication with my parents

"I have a box of your brothers stuff which I will leave outside your apartment this week. Do You have room for his bike?"

This is the message my husband received today on torn piece of cardboard. The note was given to him by my father.  

Our reply via email.

''I'm sorry we do not have space to store his stuff in our apartment. Please do not leave it on our doorstep. If we find it there we will have to return it.

This is the first communication we have had with my parents since I gave birth.

This is the email I would have liked to send instead.

Dear Aba and Mummy,

This is the first message you chose to send us three months after we had a baby. A scrap of paper letting us know you want to rid yourself of any reminders that you once had children. Sons and daughters you once claimed to love. 
Where is the mazel tov? Where is the need to know how your new grandchild is doing? Do you not care? Do you really think you can pretend you never had children?

Do you know I started laughing when your son in law brought this note home to me? It was not a laughter of joy, but a laughter of pain. What other reaction would be suitable for such an occasion? Cry? The tears have dried up a long time ago.

Do you believe that eliminating all signs that we once lived in your house will help you forget us?

I pray everyday that I can wipe away the past. Yet I plagued by nightmares and filled with memories. Memories that make me wish I could forget my childhood. Nightmares that leave me shaking in fear.

Yet for some reason I can't understand somewhere deep inside me I still have a dream. A dream that things can be different. A dream that my daughter can have grandparents who will love and care for her. A dream I still cling to even though I am aware will never happen.

In reality I know it is not a dream but a fantasy. 

Sarah.

Sisters and brothers

My grandmother turned 82 today. To celebrate the occasion two of my aunties flew in from across the country to organize a special birthday luncheon in her honor.

This morning my sisters and I loaded our respective families into cars and set out on the two hour road trip to her country home where the party was to be held. After a long drive with numerous toilet breaks for the kids we finally arrived. 

With everyone helping, before too long the party was in full gear. The time was appreciated as it is a rare that we have the opportunity to all gather together as a family. My parents were invited but much to everyone's relief declined to come. As they have cut us off and have had nothing to do with us in for years it was no surprise.

We talked, we laughed, we played and teased each other like families tend to do and all in all had a blast. 

Anybody walking into that room would have no doubt that the smiles and laughter were genuine and we were having a great time.

I sat at the table and looked around the room. I looked at my brothers and sisters. I thought how fortunate I was to have them.

I saw the smiles on their faces the joy in their voices but when I looked carefully I could also see pain lurking behind their eyes.

I watched my brother discuss with my husband how hard he is trying to rid his drug addiction. I observed my sister who is no longer religious talking to her boyfriend, finally at peace with herself after a messy divorce. I watched another sister running after her four adorable kids, blessed after years of infertility.

But I didn't only see the pain. More than that, I saw the acceptance of one another, the friendship, the love.

In some families abuse can tear the children apart it ours it only brought us closer together. My siblings mean everything to me. 

We have been, still are, and always will be there for one another. They have been a part of my journey standing beside me, supporting me and always behind me every step of the way.

I am the luckiest person to have them and I would not change that for anything in the world.

I have some memories...

-I'm 5 years old. My big sister is in trouble she did something bad. Mummy is screaming at her a lot. Really screaming at her and slapping her hard. She drags her to the bathroom takes the soap and forces it into my big sister's mouth. Scraps it really hard on her teeth. Really hard till there is no more soap left. My big sister is crying and asking her to stop. She wont she is to angry. She tells my big sister to pack her bags, she has to leave. Doesn't want her as a daughter anymore. Mummy tells us that a lot and makes us pack our bags but she never actually made us leave. But tonight she does. Tells her to leave and not come back. My big sister took her suitcase with her. She is gone. I'm scared. I want my big sister back. What if Mummy makes us leave to?

- I'm 11 years old. Shopping in a mall with mummy and my little sister. My little sister wants something and asks Mummy if she can have it. Mummy is not in a good mood. She slaps my little sister hard for daring to ask for something. A man stops and tells her she should not be hitting her children. Mummy tells him to mind his own business. Her daughter asked for something she knows she can't afford. The man says to tell her that no need to hurt her she is just a kid maybe she doesn't understand. It makes sense to me. Sounds simple. But it is never like that. Mummy is mad and so angry you can feel it. She drags us back to the car in silence that is when you know she is really mad. We get home she is angry, extremely angry. Mummy is hitting and slapping my little sister really hard. She embarrassed her in the shop today. My little sister has bruises on her face the next day can't go to school. Mummy keeps her home and she has to clean the house all day.

- I'm 10 years old. Shabbos afternoon coming back home from Shabbos group. Walking down the street on my own. I hate doing that there is 2 massive horse dogs that live nearby. I'm petrified of dogs got bitten by one when I was 5. I can see them in the distance 2 big dogs I'm scared. They smell my fear. They start running towards me. I start walking a little quicker. The dogs are catching up to me. I start running suddenly they are chasing me. I've never run so fast in my life 2 huge dogs almost as big as me chasing me I'm petrified. I'm screaming really loud the whole street can hear me. Mummy hears me comes outside. I can see her in the distance. Why isn't she coming to rescue me? The dogs are biting my clothes. A car passes by stops a man gets out. He whistles to the dogs. He gets them into his car. They are gone. Run home Mummy goes inside. I ask her why she didn't come and take them away from me. I can't remember the reason she gave me. Later she tell me I deserved the scare was a good punishment for something I did.

These are some painful memories. Memories that make up my past. But I will not let my past define me I will move forward. I will make new memories. Nice memories that will one day be my daughters.

Suicide

The topic nobody wants to talk about. The act of intentionally causing your own death.

Who wants to admit that they were in such deep pain they could not conceive living another day.

It is excruciating to see someone you love struggling with the will to live. How do you convince them that no matter how bleak the situation is death is never the answer. There really is nothing you can say all you can do is be there for them, support them and pray that they win the massive internal battle between life and death.

I know my sister has been having a really hard time recently. I've witnessed her facing this inner conflict. I sat down with her, held held her hands and begged her to choose life. I pleaded with her to not give up. Told her I couldn't survive without her.

I knew exactly how she felt I've been there myself.

After my miscarriage I fell into a deep depression. I didn't leave the house for weeks. I stopped eating and spent days in bed.

I somehow managed to hide the worst from my husband, talk to friends and family like normal not wanting them to worry but inside I was screaming. I remember the feeling of utter hopelessness and despair. I would wake up in the morning and wonder if I would still be alive to watch the sun go down. I was in such a dark place I told myself no one would miss me, were better of without me.

The only thing that made me feel any better was looking at the medicine cabinet near my bed and knowing I could end it whenever I wanted. At one point the pull was so intense I took a key and locked myself out of the house not knowing if I could resist. It was at that point I made the decision for life over death. 

I wish I could do more for my sister, make the decision for her. But it is her fight only she has that power all I can do is hope she has the strength to make the right choice.

My therapist thinks I should write a book.

I have the storyline all planned out already.

The story begins with a little girl, growing up in a close minded religious community where serious issues are pushed under a rug and ignored. Her mother has borderline personality disorder, her father physically there but emotionally a shell.

The little girl spends her days absolutely terrified of making the smallest mistake knowing that even the tinniest wrong move could set her mother off into a rage. She does her best to please her mother to avoid the physical abuse but never knowing what could upset her it is to no avail.

School is her safe place and she puts her trust into the one person who she thinks can help her. So when the teacher starts hugging and kissing her she believes it is out of love. But then it turns sexual and the little girl who is now a teenager is confused. Growing up in such a community she is totally naive and wonders if the teacher is really doing it out of love like she claims or is she using her?

With no one else to turn to or trust this continues until she gets married.

The young women and her husband leave to Israel hoping to put the past behind her, begin a new life, and start her own family.

But the months and then the years go by and and after visits to top doctors they discover they have unexplained infertility. After 3 years and expensive treatments they discover they are finally pregnant. At 13 weeks just as they beginning to believe it is real they rush to hospital at 2:00am praying that the blood doesn't mean a miscarriage. The nurse cannot find a heartbeat.

The young women falls into a deep clinical depression and begins to question her religion and why God has done this to them. She turns to the Internet to give her temporary relief from the pain and develops an addiction to self harm.

After her husband realises his wife is in danger he decides to take her back to their hometown. There she gets a job, begins to study,and with her friends and family surrounding her the depression lifts.

Fertility treatments start again and after a year the couple are overjoyed and a little nervous to find they are pregnant again.

The baby is healthy and is growing at a good rate. With all the hormones racing at 6 months the addiction returns. With the help of therapy she makes it through the pregnancy safely and gives birth to a gorgeous baby girl.

One look at the her little miracle and her world changes forever.

I am 23 yrs old, married, with a newborn daughter and this story is not a figment of my imagination it is the story of my life.

I want to write about what it means to grow up unloved, not wanted, betrayed by the people meant to protect you, live in fear of the people supposed to love you. It changes your psyche. As a child you learn things children should never know about. You struggle to adapt and do whatever you can to survive. You strive to become the person you are expected to become. You yearn to be free, shed the mask, and find out who you really are.

And then you grow up get married and are thrown into a new world with new rules. A world you have only ever looked in on from the outside. Fighting to fit in and not take advantage of the new found freedom. Resisting the pull of an addiction to return to the only world you know. A world of pain.

But this blog is not only about the my challenges it is also about the rewards. Sisters and brothers who are there for me and stand by me through everything. I have made some amazing friends and met some amazing people along this journey. People who have reached out to help me and be there for me when I needed them most.