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Teetering on the brink of insanity. That was me in the months after my traumatic divorce.

Crying on the bus at the kitchen table at work. Staying awake way into the night unable to unwind. Trying to stay on top of all the myriad responsibilities that came along with running a home and taking care of small children on my own. Feeling lost alone devastated at the dashing of my dreams. If I made it through the week without falling apart it was a miracle.

But before I could crash on my couch Friday night and be swallowed up by the oblivion of sleep there was still one more hurdle to overcome: making it to candlelighting on time.

Er… well not exactly on time but at least before shkiah. That was the important thing right? The siren could blare but I still had plenty of time to finish washing the floor throw food into the oven clear the muktzeh items off the table shower and change and find Shabbos clothing for my kids.

After all here in Yerushalayim that siren goes off way before anyone needs to light I would assure myself trying to ignore the guilt that engulfed me each week. In my rational mind I would never light so close to shkiah but as I tried desperately to beat the clock the justifications came fast and furious. No matter how hard I tried though I never seemed to make it to candlelighting on time.

It’s not my fault I told myself as I struck the match breathless from the exertion. I used to have someone else to set up the candles and now it’s just one more thing to deal with before Shabbos. I used to have someone else around to keep the kids busy and help me clean up and…

All through that miserable spring and summer I found more and more things to accomplish each week more and more things to keep me from reaching the finish line. When my neighbor’s four-year-old knocked on the door one Friday afternoon and asked if he could play I let him in wondering Who in the world sends their kid over to someone’s house on Erev Shabbos? Later as I got to know his mother better I realized that she assumed I’d say no if it wasn’t a good time. But back then I was too overwhelmed for the option to even occur to me.

Another week after lighting precariously close to shkiah I noticed my bedroom light was still on. Oh no! I can’t spend a whole Shabbos with the light on…. And I need my sleep so badly. Quickly I had my three-year-old turn it off pretending not to notice what time it was.

And then came the week when I missed my deadline entirely. I don’t remember what made that week different than any other but there I was the minute hand on my watch at the exact point that the calendar said was the cutoff time.