Dealing with Challenge

My father did reach out to me a number of times. I, however, could not bring myself to answer his messages. I was afraid that somehow he would rob me of the peace and happiness I had found, and reawaken old and painful memories...

I tapped into a part of myself that’s generally under wraps. Mummified, really. This part of me, in case you’re wondering, is my integrity. My authenticity. Not that I’ve been living a lie, but I haven’t been so honest with the world, not even with myself . . .

I wanted my father to cocoon me, like he did when I was ten years old. Isn’t that what fathers are supposed to do? Shield their little girls and keep them away from fear?

I was thirteen years old when my life with the Tanners began. It was a cold day in January in the year 1985 when I stood clutching my meager belongings on the concrete stoop of the Tanner family’s residence . . .

Things were going well in my life. Oh, there were a few bumps ahead but I had enough experience and, hopefully, faith to know that they could be overcome. I definitely wasn't ready for allegations of verbal abuse, harassment and being the cause of a nervous breakdown...

Keeping the connection is what helped me overcome and recover from a tragic childhood that was filled with misery, pain and constant struggle. Thank you G‑d for helping me overcome this challenge: the dreadful storms of childhood neglect and abandonment...

I spent twenty years of my life wishing he were “normal.” Imagining. Yearning. Wondering about ordinary things like—what would he be like? What would he look like? Would we get along, and what would we have in common?

A close friend of mine has been fighting breast cancer for nearly five years. It seems like her cancer is winning the battle...

I don't want to pass the pain on to my kids. I want them to have love and closeness with me and with others. But I see that as much as my revealed love for them is in the home, my hidden hatred of myself creates a stinging bubble around me that fills the house when I hit bottom...

I know it’s a childish and irrational projection, but that’s how I sum up my heavenly Father – the One up there who has no malice towards me, but is certainly not dependable, who will lure me into a false sense of security, if I let Him, but then will pull the rug out and disappear in the middle of the night...

She says that she is running on empty. She says that there is vast, useless space inside of her. She looks the same on the outside. But things are subtly falling apart. She is bored literally to tears even though her schedule is full. She can’t find meaning despite the rituals and beliefs that frame her days. She doesn’t want to do anything, but she does everything anyway. She can’t figure out where she went wrong when she was playing by all the rules...

My mother’s behavior was not unique. To be a child of a survivor means being hyper-vigilant, as though this act of vigilance could keep the wolves from their prey…

When Jill was born her doctor advised her parents to "let her go." Jill's mother informed the doctor that she would only permit the infant to go one place and that was directly to her heart...

The Germans told us to leave our belongings, assuring us we could retrieve them later. Suddenly, my mother turned to me. 'The cookies! Let me at least go and get the cookies that I baked for you. I'll be right back...'

"This can't be true," I thought, "probably just some prank." But then I saw the wedding crowd slowly filing out of the hall and assembling on the synagogue grounds outside...

For the most part, G‑d is defined by what He is not. What if I just stop being—or identifying with—what I am not?

I would wake each morning filled with dread for the work day ahead of me, plagued by thoughts of what could go wrong. I wanted to make changes in my life and yet could not seem to move ahead...

I’ve been thinking a lot about my anonymous donor lately because I fortunately just celebrated the two-year anniversary of my double-lung transplant. I find that I am now even more grateful to her, and curious about her...

The time of Chanukah is a time to listen for the signals for growth that are taking root beneath the surface of our lives. It is a time to gaze into the climbing flames and to believe that we, too, can climb...

As I climb into bed, I'm wondering how many parts of me are still locked in jail cells, waiting to be freed. And if I could free this one, then with G-d’s help I can launch a search mission for many more...