When someone hurts you in a way no words can undo, breaks your trust in a way that seems insurmountable, can you possibly get past it? Four women share how they forgave and let go

Making it Work

Chava

After having my third baby, I was ready to go back to work, but the last time I’d had a job was half a decade before, back when I was a newly married girl straight out of sem. I didn’t even know where to start.

I bumped into Leah when I was rumbling through the grocery store aisles. We went through the usual pleasantries. “How are you keeping busy?” she asked. I told her that actually, I was looking for a job.

“I have the perfect idea for you!” she said. “I work as the event coordinator for a nonprofit and I want to leave my job, but my contract is until after the big gala in June. But if you take over for me, it’s perfect. They won’t be left hanging and you’ll have work!”

I mulled it over for a minute. “Why are you leaving?”

“The hours don’t work for my family anymore.” She pushed her cart farther down the aisle. “Think about it!” she called over her shoulder.

The opportunity seemed G-d sent. That night, I called Leah and spoke to her at length — grilling her about the job requirements, work environment, and challenging responsibilities. Then Leah put me in touch with her bosses. On her strong recommendation, they hired me.

For the first week, it was the dream job Leah had described — good hours, decent pay, manageable work. Then I started interacting with the big boss more, and he was tough.

He’d approve an order only to shout at me for wasting money when the invoice arrived. He’d ignore my repeated requests for more information, then call me after hours to ask why the projects weren’t done.

I was coming home from work exhausted, too drained to read a book to my little ones or chat about their day. No one warns you that fighting a battle of wits is so tiring. Or that it’s possible for a grown woman to cry that much. No wonder Leah left mid-contract.

Leah. I was tempted to ignore her whenever we’d meet at our kids’ car pool drop-off. I was livid. How could she push me to take a job she knew was so impossible? “How’s it going?” she would ask.

You know exactly how, I wanted to shout. You knew what this job was and sent me straight in. “Good, baruch Hashem,” I would say out loud. Then, “I need to run.”

A month after I started the job, once I’d cried myself to sleep for three nights in a row, my husband put his foot down.

“I’m not letting you go back,” he told me. “This is not functional.”

I knew he was right, but I also couldn’t quit. How could I leave my coworkers right before the big day?