“I resonated deeply with this week’s story describing the loneliness of carrying a private, ‘shameful’ loss”

Hashem Will Provide Comfort [Real Life / Issue 981]

As someone who has experienced multiple bouts of what is often called “disenfranchised grief,” I resonated deeply with this week’s story describing the loneliness of carrying a private, “shameful” loss. Sometimes when we show up to support someone whose grief is publicly recognized, a complicated feeling appears alongside empathy. We’re genuinely glad they are surrounded by community support, yet quietly aware of how badly we once needed those same hugs, meals, and words. Seeing the contrast can be heartbreaking.

Some grief comes with communal structure. Other grief is harder to explain and comes with stigma and judgment that isn’t worth the cost of opening up.

Over time, I’ve learned that the words we offer others in a shivah house must sometimes be given to ourselves. When no framework exists, we have to create one. Hidden grief may mean buying takeout, lowering expectations, and giving ourselves permission to land softly while we process. It means sitting with our pain and validating that it is real, even without public acknowledgment.

After leaving a friend’s shivah one day, I found myself reflecting on the words we say to mourners: Hamakom yenachem eschem. We don’t say, “I comfort you,” but “May Hashem comfort you.” Human beings can’t always reach the places where certain pain lives. In every shivah room there may be dozens of hidden mourners alongside the avel on the low chair, people carrying losses that are too complicated or too sensitive to share so publicly. It’s painful when some grief never receives a public shivah. Yet Hashem is always Menachem Avel, even for quiet and unconventional pain.

Thank you for publishing an article that gave language to this quieter form of suffering. For many readers, simply seeing it acknowledged may feel like someone finally pulled up a chair and sat beside them.

Name Withheld

Sold Short [POV / Issue 980]

I feel like the feature sold starting off in Eretz Yisrael short. I know so many women who are here not as a luxury, but are working hard and making sacrifices for their husband’s Torah. So this letter is for all the wives out there desperately making it work so their husbands can learn!

This week, my husband and I were away for Shabbos. My husband is a meishiv in a yeshivah, and the shiur spent Shabbos at the rebbi’s home. There, as I watched the rebbi and his wife take care of their married children and grandchildren, I was reminded of everything we’ve given up. Parents. Grandparents. Family simchahs. Family get-togethers. Date nights because we didn’t have a babysitter.

I know I’m lucky. Not everyone has parents to miss. And I know we’re exactly where we’re supposed to be. But there are days when not having your parents around feels unbearably heavy, and I really miss the feeling of being someone’s child and being able to rely on them.

Name Withheld

A Process, Not a Performance [The Science of Sleep / Issue 980]

I was delighted to see Family First address the topic of sleep. Sleep is so often overlooked, yet it quietly affects nearly every area of our lives — our mood, patience with our family, concentration, physical health, and even our avodas Hashem. When sleep improves, people are often surprised by how many struggles suddenly become easier to manage.

The practical suggestions Batya Sherizen shared are all valuable foundations. They help support the body’s internal clock and create the right conditions for rest. One additional tip my clients often find especially helpful is to focus less on trying to fall asleep and more on creating the conditions for sleep. Sleep is a biological process, not a performance. When a person becomes preoccupied with “I must fall asleep now,” the brain shifts into alert mode. Instead, a calm wind-down activity (reading something light, gentle stretching, adult coloring, etc.), moving our focus away from our need to sleep, allows sleep to arrive naturally rather than being chased.

Thank you for bringing attention to such an important and impactful area of health.

Zehavah Handler, MSc, UKCP, MBACP (Snr. Accred)

It’s Scary to Be This Vulnerable [Words Unspoken / Issue 980]

I, too, know of living a life so broken inside. A life that feels like treading water to survive

I, too, know of anxiety. Of terror that has no reason or intellect, just force. Of fears so great and unidentifiable that they paralyze. Of breath that is too shallow and lungs that sometimes feel too weak to contain the heaviness of only breathing. Of thoughts that hold me in their tight grip. Of the feeling of being a failure, of being broken, of falling behind.

I, too, know of pills and medication. Of side effects. Of therapy and therapists too many to count, of trauma and evaluations, of psychiatrists. Of rabbanim and mentors and therapists again.

I, too, know of the people. Of eyes that judge even as they care. Of frustration and nerves. Of being asked, “Why can’t you just snap out of it?” and “Can’t you just take one step forward?” “Just stop worrying so much.”

I, too, wish I could. And I really would if I could. I don’t want this. I just want, no need, it to end, somehow, someway, please. Trust me, if I could end it myself, I would.

I, too, know of crying and crying tears that don’t end. Of a blocked throat and tears that want to come, want to spill but can’t, and choke me instead. Of wanting to be held and understood and the pain taken away. Of needing Hashem, so, so badly, and not having energy to daven. Needing to connect, but not being able to. Of being so trapped that sleep is the only escape, and even that doesn’t come easily always, and even that also has to end.

It’s scary to be this vulnerable. It’s scary to be this anxious. And scary to share it, really. Scary to know if people actually feel what I feel or if they are just using terms like anxious and depressed carelessly as adjectives for manageable and regular emotions.

I, too, know the feeling of being seen as a great listener, great personality, pretty, fun, responsible, caring, but somehow still knowing, they don’t really know me. What pushes me, lives in me, what I fight, and what brought me to today. Every day.

So, just know, I understand.

C.S.

You’re Not Alone! [Words Unspoken / Issue 980]

Dear Coworker,

While you’re not my coworker, allow me to speak from my heart to yours.

My heart broke for you as I read through your letter, yet at the same time I was nodding along. I identify with the blackness and the bleakness, the depression that robs your day of joy, the anxiety that seems to hold a clutching claw over your mind and pointy nails at your lungs, the crushing loneliness that seems like no one in the world can ever understand.

Yet I want to give you this very strong message: You’re not alone!

I’m not just saying it so that you feel better, I’m saying this from a genuine place of seeing it and believing it. I want to introduce you to Chazkeinu, an organization for women who struggle with mental health, run by Zahava List. Since I joined, I felt my world change. Yes, I was still suffering, but I was not in my pain alone. I had friends and supporters from those who get it.

Among the safety of Chazkeinu, we feel comfortable sharing our challenges, and we genuinely have a huge support network of Chazkeinu sisters. You can get the emails, you can join Zooms, the text or WhatsApp group, call in to the recordings of personal stories and interviews, and so much more!

If you’re between the ages of 14 and 25, you can join Lebainu, an organization for teen girls and young adults struggling with mental health.

Please join us, we’re here for you!

Someone Who Gets It

Thank Him, Don’t Compliment Him [Connections/ Issue 979]

In the column “Standing Up to My Husband,” the advice Mrs. Radcliffe gave is for a wife concerned about instances of her husband’s overly harsh parenting is to constantly tell him that he’s being too harsh and damaging to the children. I’m sorry to say, but I think a wife talking this way to her husband is abusive.

Yes, a father (or mother) shouldn’t treat his children this way, yet there are some points you missed out on. The questioner mentioned how much her husband cares for the children, how he is a good man, and that this only comes up during specific circumstances.

How often does she thank her husband when he is mechanech her children in a pleasant way? Does her husband ever respond in a non-nasty way? She should thank him! She shouldn’t compliment him, he’s not a baby. And she definitely shouldn’t tell him how to talk and what to say. That’s completely disrespectful and only backfires (like it did in her case).

Her husband is right; he doesn’t tell her how to talk, and she shouldn’t harass him about how he should talk.

Now, before you think that I’m saying he’s right, I absolutely don’t think he is. His harsh interactions with his kids does need to be addressed. However, that will only happen through your belief in his good intentions, trusting him, and thanking him when he does the right thing.

Please, please, don’t boss your husband around; it damages your husband, your children, and future grandchildren.

Name Withheld

Sarah Chana Radcliffe responds:

Reinforcing desirable behavior is always the preferred initial and primary intervention for normal issues involving both children and spouses. The exception is in the case of truly harmful behavior where limit setting is the required intervention. Imagine a reckless driver who has run over a few people — the police stay on the lookout for when this driver correctly stops at stop signs or stays within the speed limit. Spotting the correct behavior, the police officers run up to him to commend him. Meanwhile, the driver is continuing to run over more people!

There is no need to be afraid of limit setting when it occurs only when absolutely necessary (e.g., for truly harmful behavior such as belting a child or in this case, seriously diminishing a youngster). Convey the love, appreciation, positive attention, caring, interesting conversation, acts of kindness, humor, and all the other wonderful marital communication options 95% of the time (and leave 4% for a few instructions and requests such as, “Can you please pick up milk on the way home”? and then 1% for this absolute boundary). The 95-5 Rule for marriage builds an excellent bond based on trust, love, and respect. There’s no reason to fear setting a boundary when that boundary is necessary for the safety, health, and well-being of the family.

A School Bus in the Snow [When Kindness Blossoms / Issue 979]

I read your feature When Kindness Blossoms a few weeks after it was printed and felt a need to add my own recent experience. After years of waiting, my daughter was finally getting married. The very day of the wedding was the biggest snowstorm New York has had in years. I spent most of the morning fielding phone calls and text messages from friends and relatives who had planned to be there and couldn’t due to the storm. I disappointedly resigned myself to a small, intimate wedding. Even my neighbors in Flatbush would likely not make it to the hall in Boro Park in the storm.

Then one friend from my community reached out and asked, “Nechama, how do you feel about me arranging a van of people to come to your wedding?” With surprise and delight, I said, “If you arrange it, I’ll happily cover the cost!” I gave her the names and phone numbers of people who’d responded they were coming.

Imagine my surprise and delight when an entire school bus pulled up to the hall, filled with my friends and neighbors. I was so touched and emotional that instead of giving up on account of the storm, one person acted and found a way for many others to join my simchah. I felt hugged and loved by all who joined and will forever be grateful to the one woman who thought of and arranged a school bus to come to our simchah!

Nechama Cohen

Flatbush

Improvement Is Possible [Smells Like Danger / Issue 978]

As someone with MCAS, I’ve been following the recent letters about MCAS and sensitivity to smells with great interest. I’d like to share a few points that may be helpful to others.

MCAS presents differently in each person. For example, I don’t react to smells or chemical cleaners, but I cannot eat day-old chicken. For many years, I was weak, in pain, and frequently incapacitated. What helped was learning how to stop my mast cells from degranulating so I could reduce the number of flares.

Here are some approaches that helped me.

1. Low histamine diets: When histamines levels are too high, mast cells react. For me, the sulfites and nitrates in gluten, citrus, and chocolate can tip the scales. I knew avoiding these foods was working when a doctor found that my muscle weakness disappeared three months after I started this diet, without having made any other changes to my lifestyle.
2. Reducing inflammation: I try to eat antiinflammatory foods daily, often in a smoothie.

3. Building tolerance slowly: Allergy shots helped my body adapt to unavoidable allergens that raised the amount of histamines in my body. Exercise can release histamines, so my routine is gentle and increases gradually, sometimes by just one minute a day.
4. Medications: Daily antihistamines such as Allegra and Pepcid have been helpful, along with targeted vitamins. I worked with my doctor to tailor medications to my needs. Some medications are being prescribed off-label and have been life-changing, including Rhapsido, Xolair, and Tirzepatide. Others medications such as NSAIDs and certain vitamins cause issues and should be avoided.
5. Migraine treatment: Some migraines occur without the classic headaches, something an out-of-the-box neurologist identified in me. Newer migraine medications have helped stop MCAS flares, which were causing non-headache migraines.

MCAS can be depressing and overwhelming, but improvement is possible. I still have flares, but now they occur once a month instead of daily. I hope sharing my experience encourages others to keep searching for approaches that work for them and improves their lives even a little.

Name Withheld

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 982)