“Yes, she is a victim, but at this point she has victims of her own, and her story isn’t over until that is addressed”

Proving the Point [Inbox / Issue 1048]

Last week, Name Withheld kindly took the time and energy to respond to a letter of mine that was published a week before. Inadvertently, she proved my point at the same time.

She shared how she went to Rav Wolfson ztz”l to ask about her husband’s ruchniyus, and he told her that his spirituality was not her department. She then added that this was not what she had learned in high school.

In my original letter, I clearly wrote, “Granted there may be times when a rav will advise a wife to give her husband some space and ignore some things. But that is a specific circumstance under appropriate guidance, not a general policy.” Her response underscores what I was trying to say; in her case, the rav gave her guidance that wasn’t typical for general guidance, which is what she learned in high school.

That being said, I do think my letter was misinterpreted to refer to a husband who doesn’t daven or learn “enough.” What I intended to discuss was a husband who does not learn at all or regularly skips davening. Those two things are basic mitzvos expected of every man.

We all have responsibilities. And when a husband doesn’t live up to his, it is our responsibility, as his ezer k’negdo, to find a way to encourage and help him (and I would hope and expect him to do the same for me).

Lastly, I take it as a compliment that I came across as someone older and from the previous generation. However, that isn’t the case. I am 30 years old, married a little under ten years, and have four beautiful children, kein ayin hara.

However your readers choose to handle such a situation, I have heard from a number of people that all of our letters have led to some very healthy, lively discussions, baruch Hashem!

Ariella Lichtenstein

Victim Turned Perpetrator [True Account / Issue 1048]

I was extremely dismayed to read the True Account in which a woman described her journey of healing from childhood abuse. Not because I have any problems with therapy; I respect the enormous efforts the narrator invested to heal from her childhood traumas. But what upset me was that this woman was so self-absorbed in her own experiences that she completely missed the fact that at some point, she, too, became an abuser. And her journey of healing — or at least the parts of it she shared — seemed to include zero focus on the damage she inflicted on her own children, or any efforts to acknowledge, deal with, and correct that.

The story shared a lot of disturbing details of abuse and near-violence on her father’s part. I’m guessing there were more details that didn’t make it into print, and that he was a real monster. I assumed these details were shared for a reason, not just for shock value. Then the story detailed how the narrator herself physically and emotionally abused her own children — leaving purple marks on a child, punishing a little boy by not attending his Chumash seudah. These were sickening to read as well.

Mishpacha usually doesn’t include graphic details like these in print, and I wasn’t sure why you chose to do so this time. But I trusted that it would lead to some sort of process of growth or revelation, some turning point. I figured that at that some point the narrator would realize what we readers had all realized: Yes, she was a victim, but at this point she had become a perpetrator as well. Presumably, she was sharing these disturbing details of abuse with us because she had realized that it was time to stop the cycle — she absolutely had to find help, so she could finally heal her inner child and stop inflicting the same abuse on her own children.

But until the conclusion, the narrator remains absorbed in herself, her (very legitimate) pain, her unfulfilling marriage, her grief at her sister’s tragic illness. We don’t see that she ever takes an honest look at what she has become. Even when she finally does start the therapy process, we don’t see any acknowledgment of the pain and damage she caused, only the pain she endured.

Honestly, by the time I reached the end of her account, I was angry. I had been waiting and waiting to hear about her finally facing up to the abuse she personally perpetrated, and about her efforts to be a better parent, to create a safer environment for her children and give them the security she never had. I had expected to read about her therapist guiding her to face the hard truth that she, too, has become a perpetrator, and it’s up to her to stop the cycle and give her kids a chance, and to shift her focus from what she has endured, to think about the pain she has inadvertently inflicted. I can only hope that this is part of her ongoing process that is still playing out in her real life. Still, the omission was glaring and painful. Yes, she is a victim, but at this point she has victims of her own, and her story isn’t over until that is addressed.

Suri Fogel, Monsey, NY

A Mentor’s Role [Picture This / Issue 1048]

I’ve been following the Picture This serial in the past few months, as well as the discussions in Family First about the lack of mentors for frum women post-seminary and into adulthood. I was glad to see that Estee found a mentor with whom to discuss her shanah rishonah challenges, and Rebbetzin Weiss seems like a wonderful advisor.

I was bothered, though, by her response to Estee when she shared that Yonah had confronted her about her spending habits and asked if she wanted him to go to work. Rebbetzin Weiss advised Estee not to mention the fight and, “If it comes up again, tell him that wanting things is not the same as wanting eternity. And that the latter outweighs the former.”

In my opinion, a mentor should not tell their mentee what to do or say, but rather help should help her draw her own conclusions. I think it would have been more valuable if Rebbetzin Weiss had helped Estee figure out for herself what she wanted, rather than telling her what to say.

In this case the advice seemed to be appropriate for Estee, but she needs to be authentic in her discussions with Yonah, and for that to happen the words need to come from her. Otherwise, she risks saying one thing but then behaving in a way that indicates something else. Helping Estee figure things out for herself will also help her develop skills for navigating situations on her own, which is ultimately the most valuable thing a mentor can offer.

Thank you, Ariella Schiller and Mishpacha, for providing good food for thought and relatable content that aligns with our values.

DG, Jerusalem

Glaring Absence [Guestlines / Issue 1046]

I read with dismay Yeshaya Kraus’s article on miserable men. For the record, I’m not a medical or mental health professional of any sort, just a guy who’s been through the wringer and has, baruch Hashem, emerged with success.

Mr. Kraus described at length the profile of this miserable man before offering a brief idea that can serve as an antidote. This article painted such a bleak, dark scenario, that I was likely not allowed to have read it on Shabbos because of its severely depressing tone.

More than anything else, what struck me like a hammer was the absence of Yiddishkeit and Hashem and davening and emunah in all of this. Not one word of ruchniyus was mentioned in this entire sad exposé, not while describing the protagonist’s downward spiral, nor in the tiny morsel of a quasi-solution.

I myself was in the state Mr. Kraus described, but because of my faith in our Creator, because of my ability to cry to Hashem on a personal level, because of the tools that Hashem has given us in the form of davening and being nosei b’ol im chaveiro, and because I have a wonderful ezer k’negdo, I never sank to the depths of despair that the doctor describes. And while I’m certain that there are men out there who may have sunk even lower than I did, any frum mental health professional who does not weave Yiddishkeit and ruchniyus into their treatment plans is way off base.

Yidden are blessed with endless seforim and books that help us lift our moods, raise our bitachon, and most importantly, teach us that Hashem will never, ever, put a nisayon before a Yid that he or she cannot overcome.

Men, any and every situation you find yourselves in is part of Hashem’s plan. And if things seem dark and you feel like you are drowning — as I felt — know well that Hashem Himself is your life vest. Hashem will keep you afloat and bring you out of your difficult situation. And you will emerge stronger for it and be a better husband and father for having been through a difficult period.

Name Withheld

Yeshaya Kraus responds:

Thanks for contributing to this important, and as you noted, potentially depressing conversation. It’s unfortunately more widespread than we might want to think. From the sound of it, you were in a pretty bad place, and were able to call on the most basic resource that we have, our ability to rely on our relationship with Hashem, to get you through that difficult time. You were able to rely on your wife to help you as well. Ashrecha!

There are, unfortunately, many who, unlike yourself, do not feel able to access such resources. For those who feel angry at Hashem, or those who feel they don’t matter, crying out as you describe feels inauthentic and makes them feel worse. The same applies to making use of the numerous seforim we have available — that may be an excellent way to raise one’s mood or make one feel secure, but only if the person doing it finds meaning in it to begin with. If not, it becomes simply another meaningless responsibility, and a point of guilt and shame for not connecting with the content as they feel they should be.

If the problem presents in ruchniyus, certainly a ruchniyusdig solution is the only one. In finding it, though, it can’t be forced. The solution needs to be one that has meaning to the person looking for it, as he is, in his current state of distress. It can be difficult to find that solution, but it’s likely there.

I’ve found that telling people the things they already know, such as “no nisayon is insurmountable,” often makes them feel more ashamed of themselves, and just pushes them further along the downward spiral they’re already on.

There’s inherent meaning to what we do, and as long as someone is still doing it, he can find even the smallest point of meaning and hope to connect with. That’s something he can cultivate and grow, hopefully in a way that heals and deepens his relationship with Hashem and those around him.

Again, I appreciate your joining in the conversation. Continued hatzlachah,

Yeshaya Kraus, LCSW

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1049)