Saturday, August 9, 2025

The Battle of the Megyns and a Commentary on Parenting

    Even if, like me, you've only recently started following Megyn Kelly, you will have discovered her visceral disdain for Megan Markle. (Megan Kelly is a media figure who covers politics and news and Megan Markle is the C-list actress who couldn't hack it as a princess in England and now styles herself as a royal Duchess living in exile in Montecito, California.) Although I am not a consistent viewer of any particular show, this much I do know from the little I have followed MK media (Megyn Kelly's network): Megyn does not just dislike Megan, she despises her. The numerous betrayals of friends and family, her selfishness and narcissism, the entitlement and lack of gratitude, the fakery and the empty gloss, are just a few reasons for this contempt. Megan, living in her Montecito mansion, complaining about the terrible ordeal she experienced of becoming one of the most famous and pampered princesses of our time, is the epitome of ignorant, insufferable and vacuous celebrity culture. The situation reached it's breaking point and as a result we witnessed one of the most hilarious catfights of all time. This was in the form of a parody podcast produced by MK media of the "with love" podcast that Megan attempted to force down our throats. The pampered princess is no match for the humor and wit of the true media genius that is Megyn Kelly who revealed the Duchess's banality and put to shame the traditional comedy shows such as SNL and Comedy Central who dropped the ball on this one. Megyn Kelly partnered with Maureen, a podcast host on her media network, and the two recreated the terrible Markle show to such perfection that I was left in stiches from laughter. From pretending to be best friends, to the toxic relationship of bullying and fear (It's funny you call me Markle, you know my name is Sussex now.), coopting other peoples recipes and pretending like discovering microwave popcorn makes her the new Einstein - she captured it to perfection. I guess you got to see it to believe it, and if you are not a news junkie like me, take my word for it - Kelly struck gold. 


    Following the success of her first parody series, Megyn scored again with an episode imitating the pretend space flight of a group of rich entitled female celebrities. The wife of Jeff Bezos, owner and founder of Amazon asked Katy Perry, a singer, Gail King, a news personality and a few other famous women to pretend to be her best friends for the day in exchange for an invitation to her exclusive adventure pretending to travel to space. It an honesty, it was a cool ride and had it been done in the style of Mark Rover or some other science show or YouTube channel to provide the audience with the opportunity to learn about space and marvel together about the wonders of the universe, we would be having a very different conversation. Instead, these bimbos put on a terrible display of being more virtuous and wiser than all the rest of us peons because they alone went where no man has gone before. Except "man" has been there before, men and women. There have already been astronauts, both male and female, who have traveled to space and back, and the women in this little joyride did not even reach space. They went slightly above the atmosphere where most of us have been many times during regular air travel. Instead of elevating the cause of feminism and space travel they walked all over the accomplishments of the woman who walked before them. By pretending they are the female inspiration for space travel they were in effect erasing the accomplishments of real female astronauts who have already done this but without all the navel gazing and fanfare. MK media copied this to perfection: the simpering praise of the newscasters, the narcistic ego of the "astronauts" and the vanity and frivolity with which they approached the whole endeavor. It was hilarious and the hosts and producers at MK media were on a roll. 

    Then came time to parody Michelle Obama and her pathetic foray into podcasting. To me, in this project, Kelly fell flat. I wondered why I felt that way and realized it was that Michelle Obama on her podcast had done something so terrible that it was beyond parody. Michelle basically sits with her brother and complains how awful her life has been, what an unfair hand she has been dealt and the difficult ordeals she has been through in life. I am not saying that a famous person can't experience hardship that deserves recognition. Barbara Bush lost a young daughter to cancer, Catherine Middleton experienced and Thank god recovered from cancer and she also struggled with Hyperemesis Gravidarium, debilitating nausea to the point of hospitalization during each of her three pregnancies and Nick Jonas of the Jonas brothers has type 1 diabetes. These are just a few stories that remind us that celebrities are not immune from the curveballs life can throw and oftentimes sharing their pain and how they overcame these challenges can give hope and inspiration to others. Michelle's podcast is nothing like that. She uses her platform to demand praise for fake suffering and to elevate herself to sainthood in the Marxist paradigm through which she sees the world. You might ask why this bothers me and how it is relevant to you. Point taken, but see I couldn't care less if she was trying to promote DEI or cornrows - both of those positions deserve their day in court. What is more, if some has been, wannabee bored empty nester wants to kvetch to her brother - right on girl. Complaining is a favorite Jewish pastime - so beloved in fact that there is a whole genre of comedy and jokes just on that. I cant begrudge her mistaken perception that lashing out on the unfairness of living a privileged life will make her respected, beloved and admired. If she wants to tell the world what a horrible man the former president of the united states is and how terrible it is to have him as a husband - go for it. Free speech is the freedom to speak, and with it, happily, is also the freedom not to listen. And almost no one did as her numbers were terrible. Well, almost no one outside of Megan Kelly's producer. And so...a new parody podcast was born. I was with "Megyn O" for all of it, as she imitated Mrs. Obama crying about the trials and tribulations of living in the white house and the financial calamity that almost befell her due to the struggle of being first lady of America, yadi yada, all the kookiness of pretending that she isn't one of the most privileged women on earth, married to a man who had been the most powerful man on earth all while begging the world to see her as a victim and endow her with sainthood in payment for her suffering. But then she said something unforgivable. Michelle declared that being a mother was the opposite of a blessing, that it was the worst thing that had ever happened to her and had in fact ruined her life. "They mess you up," she said. "They are a hastle...and they are demanding." Motherhood to her is not a blessing, no, in fact it is a burden and a curse. As a woman and as a Mom, this attitude, speech and behavior is offensive and despicable. 

    The first and foremost reason I find her words beyond the pale is because I have friends who struggle with infertility. One friend shared that she is able to become pregnant but cannot maintain a pregnancy. She and her husband are the most positive, patient, caring, giving and dependable people I know. If anyone deserves to be parents - it is them. Their children and the world would be better for it and one can only imagine the longing they feel to experience this gift. Erin Bates, a Christian reality star, had a similar issue and lost several babies as well, until her prayers were answered and she found a medical a solution and since then has given birth to quite a few healthy children. My friend is still waiting for an answer to her prayers - and it bears repeating - if anyone has the capacity and the heart to be the most amazing parents it is she and her husband. So ### you Michelle Obama with your tears and your whining. My friend would give anything to have two beautiful healthy girls like you have.

    Another fertility challenge prospective parents face is the inability to become pregnant via natural means. I am close with a young Mom who had to go through IVF, which is a grueling process, in order to get pregnant with some of her babies. Though I don't know much about this situation, I do know many women walk through fire and hell to bring a baby to earth. Rabbi Yosef Shapiro, an orthodox Jewish Rabbi, recently wrote a book and shared on a podcast regarding his and his wife's personal journey with IVF. Their book highlights the sacrifices a couple would be willing to make for the joy and the privilege of being a parent. Rabbi Breitowitz, a prominent orthodox Rabbi in Jerusalem, is more hesitant and less of a cheerleader when advising couples whether to embark on the IVF process. This is because he is acutely aware of the dangers and the pitfalls involved. Instead, he shares his personal parenting journey through adoption. The joy and emotion conveyed in his voice when he describes his pride and gratitude for his son and the relationship he and his wife have with him is a true testament to the love a parent has for a child no matter how that relationship came to be. These stories demonstrate a positive vision of parenthood and the basic values that should at least be the aspiration, if not the commonly held standard, in a decent society. If we don't cherish our progeny and celebrate the next generation than who are we as a people?

    This brings me to the next counterpoint to Michelle Obama's dark vision of parenthood; the grim reality that the blessings of parenthood are not guaranteed to last, as in life, nothing is certain, and at times, even once a child is born, the struggle and the trials are not over. I have a close relatives who waited eight months for their baby to be discharged from the NICU and be welcomed home. During this time, in the same NICU where her little boy was receiving care, an Arab mom was caring for triplets, all three in critical condition as well. Though I was there many many times visiting Mr. Cuddles, as I called him, I never met this other family who went home around the time "we" did. Sadly, they only took home their little girl Alma as her two brothers did not make it. During my time volunteering and helping out my cousins I too was worried and hoped very much that he would have a positive outcome. (I would take shifts visiting him and caring for him to give his parents a break and give him more opportunities for human interaction and love.) Before I got involved, he had been through several surgeries and it came to a point where the doctors had done all they could. They pulled my cousin into a room and gently shared the news. Pray, pray to your god. At this point there was nothing else they could offer. My cousin described walking out of that meeting and suddenly feeling like the hallway was very very long. It was heartbreaking for me to hear this - this young dad had been the carefree teenager I used to goof around with as he and his brother poked fun at the books I read, laughed at jokes, enjoyed family vacations and Shabbat and holiday meals and fun family events together. His mom at times was like a second mother to me and my sisters, she even accompanied my sister to the birth of her baby when she gave went into labor early and her husband was stuck out of town. But I digress. By the time I got involved and started volunteering the baby was much more stable but still in critical care. It seemed he would make it but I had to watch him endure the torture of the surgeon fiddling with his stoma to keep the hole patent, his cries and wailing every painful diaper change and when due to the distrust he developed of basic human contact he had to learn not to cry and scream when being given a bath. (Another side note - I did that! I taught him to love the bath. I sang to him when I bathed him and this was soothing and curative.) But beyond the pain and suffering, there was still the fear and the concern as there were so many things that could go wrong - and did. I recall one day leaving the hospital praying to god not to allow his Mom to experience the grief of losing a child, I loved her too much. To watch over that baby not just for the sake of his own survival but for the love and care of his dear parents who did not deserve to lose him - they deserved to have him and cherish him and one day take him home. Thank god he is thriving and doing well but I met many frightened parents and saw gravely ill babies during this experience, an experience with profound lessons that I will carry with me.

    Through a different organization I volunteered and handed out food to families of pediatric cancer patients, this too was a formative experience for me, especially witnessing the genuine tears and heartfelt prayers of my partner each time we left a unit. A healthy child is not a given, certainly not something to take for granted. Noone has taught me this lesson more than my friend Eva and her husband Mark.* (name changed). Their third child was born with Aicardi syndrome, a rare genetic neurological disorder affecting primarily females. This was discovered when she was close to 9 months pregnant and a doctor urged them to chalk it up to a mistake (to have an abortion and try for better luck next time.) They of course rejected his heartless and inhumane suggestion and this girl gives them so much joy every day. Not by accident - it is a deliberate act of will. They choose to see her as a blessing while being honest about the stress, the worries, the fears and the challenges of raising a child who is neurodivergent. Running a household and all the rest of life's responsibilities while juggling her needs and challenges is not simple and they don't pretend that it is. But her laughter at the beach and the simple miracle of what she can accomplish on a given day is a cause for celebration. Theirs is the example and the vision I choose to elevate and the story they share with family and friends every year at a party they host every fall for the expressed purpose of publicly thanking god for the miracle and blessing of their healthy children. The party is primarily to thank god for the miracle of their younger son's health and they use the opportunity to thank god for all the ways he has touched their lives. This son was born with TGA, transposition of the great arteries. When he was about 14 days old his Mom noticed that he had some sort of hernia on his abdomen, it didn't seem serious, whereas the bureaucracy of health insurance for a newborn is complicated, and so she almost pushed off seeing the doctor for another day. By a stroke of luck some secretary squeezed them in and this act of humanity and kindness saved his life. Turns out, unrelated to the hernia, their baby boy had this heart condition as well, TGA. Several hours later and he would not have made it - they had to put in a chest tube in the ambulance just to get him to the hospital alive, and within hours of his arrival he was in the operating room with a surgeon cutting into a heart that was smaller than an adult fist. And so, every year during the Succot holiday, they make a huge celebration with lots of family and friends to thank god for this miracle. In addition to being pillars of their community, they are clearly God fearing people with a strong faith and they see children as a blessing. They are the sort of role models I choose to elevate and emulate.

    Some people pay a bigger price than others to have their babies and not everyone is perfect Mom. That is the nature of my story - complicated. I found out I was pregnant just as I realized that the relationship with my son's dad was not appropriate for me. The confusion of how to proceed and the shame of divorce was huge, for me it was a situation that was beyond what I could comprehend or bear and I began to contemplate suicide. Life as a divorced woman was just not an option I had ever been told is allowable or allowed. However, I knew that ending my life would end the innocent life inside me who came there through no fault or no choice of his or hers - and so instead of opting out I focused on building a life for the two of us. (Of course I advocate for young people to plan to bring children into the world into a loving relationship of a happy marriage. In this case the ideal and the plan did not pan out, and the question was how to act and react given the unforeseen and unplanned circumstance.) I had the responsibility of someone innocent who needed me and so I chose to build a new kind of life. I worked on my degree and on getting a job and an apartment. This worked out for a while, albeit with lots of bumps along the road until he was nearly five year old, when at that time mental health struggles caught up to me and I was no longer able to care for him. Luckily, family stepped in.  Their support of us included his care and wellbeing and support of our relationship. Having a relationship added to both the pain and the joy of the situation, yet we are both lucky that many times over the years I have had the opportunity to step up and connect, especially at pivotal moments such as during covid when he was alone without friends and I was able to entertain him and talk to  him for hours, or the letters we sent back and forth, and being able to attend his bar mitzva surrounded by family and friends. The support of my family, especially regarding his care, kept him off the streets and out of foster care. Most moms with mental illness cannot say the same. Yet, it is not all a rosy picture and as a consequence of my choices and mental health struggles, he has not always had it easy.  But never ever would I say he has been a burden or a curse. He is a living breathing person with ideas, a unique personality, ambition, a sense of humor and all the possibilities of a yet undefined future. 

    The health and wellbeing of the people we love is never a given. The scariest moment of my life was when I thought I had lost my son in a car crash. I was crossing the Marine Parkway Bridge when my car hydroplaned, this means water came between the tires and the road and the tires lost all traction. The wheel was no longer in control and so when I turned the wheel the car did not follow. Instead, it went turned from side to side to side until I found myself driving at a very high speed headfirst into the barrier. I can still taste the bile and the fear when I realized I survived but did not know what had happened to my son, an infant at the time, in the backseat. I could not bring myself to check and find out and screamed out to the first onlooker to find that out for me and let me know if my baby was Ok. It is hard to describe a greater joy than the relief I felt when she told me and then I saw for myself that he had indeed escaped unscathed. Life is tough and terrifying and parenting is no less - but we as a society get to choose which values and vision we elevate and put forward. I certainly am not a role model as a mother, but one thing is clear from my story that I hope you dear reader can learn from and be inspired to believe as I do that motherhood is the greatest blessing on earth. 

Monday, June 26, 2023

Career Framework

 

Discover your perfect career with the 10 P's

Ideas to reflect on your mood and explore your mind…


I decided that I wanted to become a doctor when I was a teenager. And I'll admit that I didn't think through my decision as thoroughly as I should have. And this was partly due to the fact that I had no idea how. It's crazy that we have to decide what we want to do for the rest of our lives at such a young age. Committing to a profession as demanding as medicine can feel like being locked into a high-stakes game with no easy way out.


To simplify this process, I propose a framework that incorporates the 10 P's—seven positive factors to optimize, and three pitfalls to avoid. It's a method that This method helps evaluate potential career paths with a more individualized approach.

  1. Personality: First, ask yourself if the career aligns with your personality traits. Are you a social butterfly or a solitary thinker? Does the profession require quick decisions or slow, meticulous planning?
  2. Passion: "Do what you love, and you'll never work a day in your life." Ideally, you would find a career that you enjoy, which makes it easier to show up to work even on the bad days.
  3. Proficiency: Skill and competence are critical. Do you have the necessary abilities or the potential to develop them?
  4. Profit: While money isn't everything, it is an important aspect to consider. Does the career offer financial stability and security? Can you sustain a comfortable lifestyle, save for the future, and have room for leisure and luxuries?
  5. Progression: Consider if the career provides room for growth and advancement. Are there opportunities for promotions, skill enhancement, and achieving new milestones?
  6. Purpose: Does your chosen career align with your broader life goals and values? A career with purpose gives a sense of fulfillment and meaning beyond the day-to-day tasks.
  7. Prodigy: Evaluate whether you have a natural edge in this field. This includes physical traits, like height and appearance.

The first seven are criteria to optimize. These last 3 are factors that should not weigh heavily into your decision:

  1. Parents: Our parents will have their opinions, but remember that this is your career. Respect their insights and wisdom, but ultimately you're the one who needs to love what you do.
  2. Popularity: Don't chase a career because it can make you famous. Prestige and fame can be enticing, but they are fleeting and often don't reflect job satisfaction or a good career fit.
  3. Peer Pressure: Avoid getting swayed by trends or your peers. Just because you see all your friends making a lot of money going into real estate doesn't mean that it will be a good fit for you.

Try out this 10 P framework and let me know how it goes. Is the career you're considering compatible with you?


Have a memorable week!

  • Mike and Matty

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Tuesday, July 12, 2022

Efficient Time Planning

 Use of Lists

Too many lists floating around should be consolidated into one or 2 lists at most. 

Having multiple to do lists means too much time reading lists and finding info and directions than actually accomplishing what needs to be done. 


Therefore:


Take all the lists and dump them together to one file, sort that out and if need be split into 2. 


App Options:


Habitica

Notion

Monday.com

Google Calendar

Excel

Google Doc

Monday, June 13, 2022

כותבים וקוראים בריאות נפש - מהי הסטיגמה עבורי?

 בשבילי, החוויה של הסטיגמה שמלווה את המחלה הפסיכיאטרית שלי היא שתמיד מגדירים אותי ואף מחייבים אותי להגדיר את עצמי. הקושי החברתי במחלת נפש הוא שלא רואים את הנכות מבחוץ. מצד אחד ברחוב לא יודעים מה עובר עלי וכל פעם שאני רואה אדם נכה על כיסא גלגלים אני נזכרת שזה טוב שיש לי את הפרטיות שלי ולא כולם "רואים עלי" את המאבק הפנימי שלי. זה זכות שיש לי את השליטה לבחור את ומתי לשתף. מצד שני לא מאמינים לי שאני מתמודדת עם קושי אמיתי. אנשים מזלזלים בבקשות שלי ושופטים אותי מבלי להבין שיש סיבה לבחירות שלי. אני לא עצלנית, אני לא חסרת אחריות, כבוד עצמי או אמביציה. כתוצאה מזה לא מכבדים את היכולות שיש לי או שמופתעים ממה שכן שהצלחתי לעשות. אפילו המחמאות מרגישות כחנופה ולא אותנטיות. כשנפגשתי עם סומכת חדשה אחרי בסל שיקום חצי שנה שבמהלכה הרכזת הבטיחה שהיא תמצא לי סומכת שמותאמת לצרכים ולבקשות שלי, בזמן הפגישה כשדיברתי על מה שאנחנו אמורות לעשות יחד, הסתבר שזאת סומכת שאין לה פסיכומטרי ואחת מהמטרות שלי היתה לקבל סיוע בפסיכומטרי ובנוסף היא גם לא יכולה להיפגש איתי ביום שבו אני צריכה ליווי. היא הייתה פנויה כל השבוע חוץ מביום שבו הדגשתי שאני צריכה ליווי לטיפול רפואי. כשהיא שאלה אותי מה אני עושה ואמרתי שאני קלינאית תקשורת, היה לה מבט של הפתעה על הפנים ולי היה ברור שהיא ציפתה למישהי הרבה פחות מתפקדת וחסרת מסוגלות. לא כעסתי עליה אבל זה קורה לי כל הזמן. כעסתי על הרכזת כי היא אמורה להיות מישהי מקצועית שמבינה אותי ומקדישה תשומת לב לפרטים החשובים בחיי. זאת דוגמא שגם אצל גורמי מקצועיים קיים הזלזול וחוסר הקשבה כלפי כבנאדם שלם בלי קשר למחלה. אני אובחנתי עם כמה מחלות פסיכיאטריות כשההגדרה שמאפיינת ביותר את החוויה שלי היא הפרעת אישיות גבולית. קודים חברתיים תקשורתיים בסיסיים שרוב בני האדם אפילו לא שמים לב שהם מגיבים אליהם, עבורי הם שפה זרה שאני לא מדברת. הדבר הכי משמעותי מבחינתי היא ההרגשה הקבועה שאני לא שייכת ועוד רגע הולכים לדחות אותי ולסלק אותי. אני אף פעם לא יודעת מה התפקיד שלי בסיטואציה בה אני נמצאת ואיך להבין את המבוך המבלבל שהוא העולם. להפרעה הזאת יש סטיגמה נוספת בתוך העולם הפסיכיאטרי. 



Monday, January 3, 2022

Blurred Lines and Strangled Ropes

 That was the moment I lost myself. 

"Story of my life..." I said in response to his failed apology. "This has happened to me over and over. People make assumptions because they don't have the time or patience to understand me, based on that assumption judge and condemn me and then pressure and bully me into situations that cause me harm."


And yet actually, that full sentence was not uttered. I could barely get three words out and the sobs already started escaping. Horrified I ended the call. Dignity must be defended at all costs. Before anything else. 


I'm not sure if I just started the story with the beginning, the middle or the end, no idea who my audience is. Id like to say that what I do know for sure is that I did not deserve the abuse and neglect I had been subjected to but even on that...I have so many doubts, so how about you be the judge of it - whomever you are. 

Let me paint a few scenarios of verbal harassment, patronizing interactions and controlling behavior of this student therapist I had been assigned. Having waited a few months for a case worker I agreed to be assigned a student. How complicated could this job be, and besides, I assumed shed be supervised, so what could go wrong? In the past I had been treated in a student clinic for Osteopathic massage and had a positive experience. When there was an issue of inexperience, they responded with respect and immediate corrective action. My case was complicated and the students felt comfortable reaching out to their superiors; having direct input from senior practitioner's was a huge benefit to my care. Sadly, in this case, there was inadequate supervision, I was blamed and bullied into silence and submission when the student lacked competence and the boundary lines were blurred so far, I still can't see straight. 


Ok, so first, she gets all angry when I ask basic questions of her qualifications. first passive aggressive, and later, shouting, demeaning tone and hurtful words. 

"This is not a service offered for you," she declared. "You have to..." 

My head was swimming, shocked I couldn't even hear anymore the words she was saying. 

Every sentence I uttered and every move I made was subject to intense scrutiny and analysis. 

"I purposefully did not inform you of the change in plans as I wanted to see your reaction, upon which I can assess you and solidify my 'study' of who you are".

She certainly pulled no punches. 

Time and again I was cut off midsentence while she went off on a soliloquy of angry words berating me for this infraction or that failure - usually her own projected on me. Delay and difficulty in scheduled meetings because she misheard the day. Kept my mouth shut. When I deigned to say that I am making an effort to understand her perspective. 

"I must stop you right there," - mind you this was loud enough the entire food court heard every word. "It is my role to understand you - you have no right to try to understand me. That is crossing a line."

When I couldn't reach her, I was told don't worry, and - how come you didn't read our minds to know that she is only available Mondays and Wednesdays - not just for meetings but to schedule and reschedule meetings, and how come you are being so difficult to make it to the meeting? Yes, well that's exactly what I worried about, that I would be blamed but I am screwed either way. Dammed if you do, damned if you don't. Even when she thanked me it was with a patronizing air of condescension; when I said I had been trying to give her a heads up regarding a change in schedule out of respect for her time, she responded: "Kol Hakavod!" - Hebrew for "I am so proud of you." Huh! I would have thought thank you was an easier phrase to say when someone goes out of their way to accommodate you, no, she even found a favor I did to her as opportunity to demonstrate superiority. Impressive - that's real skill. 


When I was assigned a new case manager I wanted to just let it all behind me and celebrate the win. and then the catalyst. The supervisor who all this time kept urging me to put in an effort to make it work, feel comfortable to be open and honest of what was bothering me...after all that, weeks of ever dizzying circles of trying to please these people, he then has the audacity to turn the tables and blame me. Not outright - no he was smoothed and wrapped it in a veiled threat portrayed and presented as advice, "for my best interest moving forward." Really.


I cried for an hour, controlled myself while crying inside for several more as I went to work - Murphy's law this had to happen shortly before I headed out. Barely held it together on the train ride home and then I just cried and cried and cried. All night, all morning, all afternoon. Finally as evening began to fall I realized that I was the villain in this story. I am an idiot. No-one else is to blame that I continued seeing a caseworker who was rude, condescending and abusive from the first meeting and on. Every moment is dragged on was no-ones fault but my own - and why did I do it, to protect my reputation, but now they are threatening me nonetheless and every action I take to defend myself gives them more ammunition to trash me and drag me through the mud. Naïve worthless piece of garbage - if I cant protect even myself who am I of any benefit to.


It appears we have out answer: I am deserving of every hurt and abuse. Deep down I knew it all along and allowed it. What other choice did I have? What choice do I have now? 


Beautiful You!

 

Being True to Yourself

No one is more more miserable than the person who wants to be someone else. It costs each and everyone of us so much emotional bandwidth to try and be someone we are not and we don’t have enough of it. It’s a futile pursuit because we can never become someone or something we are not, causing our energy to spent in a net negative.

Instead, we should do our best to live authentically and start asking a different set of questions. Identify the underlying emotion or purpose to what you want to change. If your goal is to connect with others and make more friends but you are shy and introverted, then forcing yourself to go out to bars won’t help as it’s not aligned with who you are authentically. Try attending smaller gatherings or events dedicated to things you love like music or arts is seamless.

This is not to suggest that we cannot learn valuable lessons and skills from those we admire. However, trying to fit ourselves into the mold of another person will expend too much energy. Live authentically and pull inspiration from others into your own mold.



Testament to Humanity סיפורים אנושיים

 

השמלה נקרעה / דינה פולשוק

 

 

"מי האמא?"

 

אלה היו המילים המילים ששמעתי מאחורי הגב. זו היתה בר המצוה של הבן שלי והוא קרא בתורה בקול צלול וברור. רבים מהקהל התלהבו ובעזרת נשים החמיאו לי על הצלחתו.

לא גרתי באזור (למה כבר תבינו בהמשך) והבנתי שאישה זו רצתה לעודד ולחזק את אם הילד. משמעות השאלה היתה פשוט: מי גידל אותו ומי הביא אותו לעולם?

לפני שהספקתי להסתובב ולהשיב, דודתי ענתה במקומי: "זה מסובך."

אתם בטח מבולבלים. גם אני התבלבלתי לרגע. היתה שתיקה קצרה ואז הזדקפתי, הכרחתי את עצמי לחייך ועניתי: "זאת אני. והנה דודה שלי שגידלה אותו. ומזל טוב מגיע גם לאמא החורגת שיושבת בקצה השני: האישה הגבוהה בשמלה השחורה."

עדיין מבולבלים? תקשיבו ואסביר:

בובה מטופחת - זאת הייתי אני. מפוארת בבגד החדש, תסרוקת אלגנטית ונעלי עקב. ולא סתם עקבים – של שפיץ! הרי הייתי בבר מצווה של הבן שלי. התאים שאראה מכובדת, מארחת ולא כאחת שסתם מצאה את עצמה באיזה בית כנסת שכונתי שבו במקרה קורא מישהו בתורה בקול מתוק וצלול.

לא! אבל בגד לא יכול לדבר, אז מי יצהיר: זאת האמא! מי יגן על כבודי להתעקש שאכן מגיע לי התואר הזה?

היה בליבי רצון גדול לצפות בשמחה של בני ובאירוע המיוחד שלו. מסיבות רבות נפרדנו כשהיה בן 5. לא גידלתי אותו, לא שמרתי עליו ולא טיפלתי בו. לפחות אתן לו את זה - להראות לו שהוא חשוב לי מספיק להיות חלק ביום שמחתו. רציתי בזה למרות….כל אלו, אולי גם אתם, שטוענים: לא מגיע לך, לא גידלת אותו אז איך את קוראת לעצמך אמא. חיפשתי את השקט בסופת הדעות והדיבורים - ניסיתי להישען על עוגן פנימי, להיות דמות עליה בני יכול לסמוך - אישה חזקה בכוחות עצמה.

אז כך נראיתי בחוץ; אלגנטית, אמיצה ובטוחה אבל בפנים...ילדה קטנה עזובה במבוך. נכנסתי לבית הכנסת בין הראשונות. בכיסא מרכזי ישבה האמא החורגת של שני (?) - לא היו לי טענות. היא מטפלת בו, היא אוהבת אותו, העניקה לו אח ואחות, שמחתי לראות אותה נכונה להשתתף באירוע כדמות מרכזית. מגיע לה. אבל לא מגיעה לה ואין לה את הזכות ליצור מחסום ביני ובני כפי שעשתה בשנה האחרונה ובמיוחד בשבועות האחרונים לקראת הבר מצוה. החלטתי להיות הגיבורה ולוותר. כולנו שם לא בשביל עצמנו, כך חשבתי, אלא בשביל חתן הבר מצוה. ניגשתי אליה ואמרתי מזל טוב. היא לא הגיבה ולא השיבה.

זה הזכיר את הסרט inside out . בטח חשבה בליבה "מי האישה הזאת? לא מתאים שהיא פה - דרסתי ודחיתי אותה - למה לא קיבלה את המסר? היא לא מוזמנת לחיים של בני. אני אמו היחידה. היא מסכנת את כבודי ואת המהות שלי בעצם קיומה. היום זה היום שלי. אם היה הדבר בשליטתי היו דואגים שלא תהיה.

דודה, לעומת זאת, נכנסה מעט זמן אחרי, מחייכת מאחלת מזל טוב. יכולתי לראות שהחיוך הסתיר מילים חריפות אשר ישבו גם על קצה לשונה. אחריה ראיתי את חברה שלי, רבקה. לא ידעתי בוודאות שהיא מגיעה. היא הגיעה מרחוק התחלתי לרוץ לקראתה - משימה מתאגרת במיוחד, כי הייתי צריכה לעלות במדרגות, והייתי על עקבים שניראו כמו מקלות.

ברגע שהתחלתי לעלות שמעתי קשששששש, קול מאכזב נורא - התחרה השחורה בחצאית החדשה נקרעה. כמיטב יכולת החזקתי בבד חצאית האקורדיון הירוקה - והמשכתי לרוץ.

חיבוקים, חיבוקים, חיבוקים. אני לא יודעת חיבקה את מי חזק יותר. כל כך שמחנו לחוות יחד רגע את הרגע הזה! מילים לא יכולות לתאר כמה התעודדתי מכך שהיא ישבה לידי. לא רק זאת, אלא אחות אחת ישבה בהמשך השורה ואחות הגדולה ישבה מאחורי. היה לה מעגל תמיכה. בכל זאת, כל זמן קריאת התורה בית החזה התקבץ והלחיץ עלי - תחושה פיזית כאדם שעובר התקף לב. הרגשתי שעוד רגע אני לא נושמת כך שהיה מאמץ לגייס מיינדפולנס ולהנות מהעבודה המרשימה והמצוינת של בני.

זכיתי לקבל עוד כמה חיזוקים. רב הקהילה הזכיר את שמי באיחולים שלו לחתן בר המצוה ובני משפחתו. גיסי דאג לכך. הוא הודיע לרב מראש על השתתפותי וביקש ממנו להודות על כך. לא רק זאת, איך שסיים הרצאתו, שמעתי שוב את שמי. חברתי מילדותי, מרים, ניגשה לומר מזל טוב. היה לה אירוע משפחתי באותה השבת ובכל זאת השקיעה מאמץ ובאה.

נכנסה, אמרה מזל טוב, והלכה.

הלחץ התחיל להירגע. בסיום התפילה הגיעה חברה נוספת! אחת שלא ציפיתי שתבוא ממרחק הליכה רחוק רחוק - לרגע לא האמנתי. הזיה? לא ולא. לא הזיה, לא דמיון. אבל נקודת השיא קרתה כשירדתי למטה, לקומת הכניסה ואולם האירועים. ניגשתי בדרך לדודה של בני, אחות של אבא שלו. לא דיברתי איתה יותר מ 12 שנה.

"או! וואוו! אז נותנים חיבוקים", היא הגיבה בכבוד, אם כי בהפתעה. זרמנו. סוף סוף אחת שיכולה להבין שלעיתים "מה שהיה היה" והתמקדה בנקודה החשובה - חיזוק ועידוד הבן שלי ביום המיוחד שלו.

בירידה מהמדרגות שמחתי על הליווי של אחותי - כשנפגשתי פנים מול פנים עם רבניות חשובות שגם איתם היתה לי הסטוריה צבעונית, בא נקרא לזה חכה. את הפרטים דמיינו ותמלאו בעצמכם.

"מזל טוב, מזל טוב"....."תודה שבאתם".

והנה הסבתא. פעם אחרון שדיברנו היא כעסה וצעקה עלי בטלפון. על כל מיני נושאים, בעיקר על הבחירה שלי סביב גירוישין.

נשמתי עמוק.

ניגשתי.

הושטתי יד לחיבוק.

"אני לא מחבקת, יש חשש מקרונה", אמרה  והוציאה את המסיכה.

"מי זאת", שאלה הרבנית, והצביעה על הסבתא.

"סבתא של חתן הבר מצוה"

"מי"?" שאלה שוב. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. " לא הבנתי. מי זאת שעכשיו ניגשת אליה ואמרת מזל טוב?"

"כן, כמו שאמרתי. אמא של אבא של הבן שלי. סבתא של חתן בר המצוה"

על פניה ראו הפתעה, מהולה בבלבול ובינתיים ניגשה אחותי להודיע שמחכים לי באולם האירועים. הרי אני המארחת פה. האמא.

 

לא דמיינתי שארגיש כך, אבל באותו הרגע, השאלה של הרבנית, והדחייה של הסבתא לא הזיזו לי. הבנתי שלא הן, החברות, האחיות, הגיס או אף אחד אחר לא יכולים להפיל אותי. עיני היו פקוחות לרווחה ולבי רחב רחב בהכרה והודיה על כל אחד ואחת שיצרו סביבי מסגרת עוטפת – וידעתי ששם באמצע, איפה שאני, נמצאת אישה חזקה עם עוגן פנימי. עומדת על שתי רגליים בכוחות עצמה.

 

השמלה שלי נקרעה – אבל אני שלמה.



Willful Misperception

 the day I was judged and denied the right to defend my reputation


The day started out great: wearing a silky flowing skirt designed to look like a landscape and a posh beach hat perched on my head, I set out to meet my new case worker. This meeting came after weeks of persistent nudging and begging - it was nearly half a year since the previous case worker had left the agency and suffice it to say I wasn't the department manager’s top priority - that is until I made sure to become their top priority. Tri-weekly phone calls will do that.

Taking a cue from the weather I went in with an open mind and made sure to dress the part well. Presenting myself as someone dignified, cheerful and with self-respect should go a long way to receiving that same respect and consideration in return. I came early, sat patiently until she arrived - a bit late I might add - but so far so good. 

“Welcome!” I said, as we settled into our chairs. “It's nice to meet you.”

I was rewarded with a quizzical look, not of confusion, but one that said: “Are you delusional -who are you to welcome me?”

She fumbled her words, kind of conveying; ‘I am the provider in this scenario. You are the one coming for mental help and you are messing up my power dynamic here.’

Unfortunately, I am not  good at reading subtext.

“Well you are new to the agency ‘Giving Hope’ and so I am extending you a welcome.”

“Oh.” 

Not very encouraging, but moving on. 

She proceeded to ask me all the basic details of my case. I tried to be patient, but when she asked me for a doctor's note, I got annoyed. This was part of the paperwork I submitted the year prior; they should have had it on file. Clearly she had not taken much time - if any - to review my information in advance of the meeting.When I asked her to try to find it after I left, she became irritated and put on airs, acting superior. It felt like she was using her failure: lack of planning and general disorganization, as a cudgel to put me in my place. 

Let it go, I told myself and searched for the documents in the files from my phone, and right then and there, sent it to her via email during the meeting. 

Let it go, I told myself. So that's what I did. 

But then, when I answer her next question (summation of related services I receive) in short, concise form - she expresses a belittling remark of: ‘Oh, you have all the answers.’ 

Now it was my turn to give her a ‘look’. In my head I was thinking - Lady, I am trying to be patient here as you are having me do your work for you, supplying you with basic information I already shared, located in my file, that you didn't bother to read. Don’t rip into me for being helpful and straightforward. Fine. Whatever. 

Then she starts asking about my psychiatrist. The one piece of info she did see in the file. 

“Why have you been to so many psychiatrists?”

“Well, Dr. Sharon is located in Beit Shemesh. When she returned from maternity leave I had moved to Jerusalem, and so it just didn't make sense to go back to her. Eventually I did though when I needed permission for medical marijuana. She started -”

“Why did you want marijuana?”

“I have fibromyalgia. It helps with the pain.”

“But how does marijuana help with anxiety?”

“I don't know. I was getting it for fibromyalgia. Anyway, so I asked her for the letter”-

“Do they even authorize marijuana for anxiety?”

“I have no idea. I didn't need marijuana for anxiety, I needed it for fibromyalgia.”

“What's the process to get marijuana for anxiety?”

“Well, here's the process for fibromyalgia”-

“I don't understand..” At this point I don't remember what she said, some more statements questioning why I was drug seeking, indicating her lack of patience to hear the steps I had to go through…

“I already have it. This is in the past and a moot point.”

“Oh.”

The last exchange was when she judged me again and tried to dissuade me from using cannabis.

When she asked me questions in that manner, I felt judged and defensive, and yet every time I tried to answer, explain and defend my choices, she cut me off with another question, comment or to indicate she had to end the meeting and had run out of patience. 

Disoriented and confused, I was proud to leave the meeting with my dignity intact. When she reached out a week later via a phone message, I didn't have quite as much self-control. Politely, yet overly blunt, I shared how I felt about the meeting and my lack of trust in her as a service provider as a result of her attitude and behavior. 

Her reactions? She called me a week later to let me know that she badmouthed me to her boss, the regional director, and to some government beaurocrat whom I had never met. 

“They agree with me, that because you switched from one Somechet to the next  so often and so many times, this is an indication of something more problematic.” Mic drop. What!!!

Officially called a Somechet, this is an untrained therapist/assistant who meets with me 6 hours a week - the primary service this company provides. The program actually involves meeting the case manager approximately once a year while she oversees the work of the Somechet and handles the bulk of the paperwork and additional service requests related to my case.

“Excuse me, but Yaffi, the first Somechet - I parted ways from her when I moved to Jerusalem and the distance made it infeasible to meet. The second one quit the company two weeks after I was placed with her, and the third quit as well -  she quit for two reasons: She had taken the job working with me as a temporary gig until she found more suitable employment. She was offered a better position elsewhere at the same time that the agency she worked for lost their government bid. My case was transferred to your company by the government. I wasn't even consulted on the matter - it certainly wasn't my doing.”

“Yes, but still. Switching so many times reveals something more.” Mrs. Judgemental had clearly already made up her mind, facts be damned. 

“What? I don't understand. What does it reveal - I just explained that these changes were out of my control.” I insisted - wondering in my head: Was she listening to anything I said?

“That there are deeper issues.”

“Well, yes there were deeper issues with the most recent Somechet. That is why I fired her.” Finally, we were getting somewhere. She didn't cut me off, so I continued: “When I was in the states I noticed something wasn't right with the dynamic between me and the Somechet. For this reason I asked her to get me the number of her supervisor and have been insisting that I need a case manager to take responsibility here.”

“That's impossible.’

Ok - so now she is calling me delusional. How can she say this was impossible - she wasn't there- how can she claim to know more than me about events that transpired before we had even met?

“No, that is exactly what happened. Somechet refused to get me the number and claimed that speaking to her supervisor was not part of the service offered. This happened during our meetings together sometime two months ago - during the period while I was abroad. I know it did - I was there.”

“You cannot have asked this of her while at that time - you would not have been meeting her while you were abroad.”

“Yes we could have. In fact we did. We interacted via zoom and had many long sessions.”

“Oh.”

“I don't think this is accurate; what you said about me.” That would be the understatement of the year. 

Basic, basic, basic facts. Like maybe you should know the nature of my relationship with the previous Somechet before deciding if I was right or wrong to fire her. Where and how we met would be a good place to start. Do your homework, inquire and listen, before you jump to conclusions and make an analysis. 

“Yes, but still. It indicates something more.” She sure was persistent in her delusions. 

Circles. I was running in circles with this lady. Here, as in our in-person meeting she made judgments of me born from willful ignorance and denied me the opportunity to defend my reputation. Dragging my name through the mud; she considered the case to be already decided.  

What did she want out of all that? She had called to invite me to come down again to her office for an official hearing to decide how to move forward with my case; an official meeting with her supervisor, that unnamed government beaurocrat, along with me and her in attendance, so she could have a second opportunity to dismiss me and belittle me - this time with an audience. Instead of doing her job and finding me a Somechet she took it upon herself to orchestrate a hearing to ‘discuss my case’.

We left it open-ended, I made no commitment at that time. As soon as I had a moment to breathe, I realized: no way! There was no way in the world that I would willingly subject myself to more harassment. And I stuck to it. I insisted that my case be transferred to someone else - anyone else. 

Self preservation instincts kicked in and I knew I wasn't going to be in a room again with that woman. She tried to paint me as a psychopath, but between you and me, she's the madwoman. 

As I wrote this story I felt guilty bad mouthing her, because she eventually helped me get what I wanted, which was to get out from under her control. This story, unlike others I experienced, has a happy ending. Eventually, she yielded, let go of the power struggle, and acted professionally in the speedy transfer of my files. She wished me well and I wished her the same.