Still Here

You get up the next morning and you head into your day, and you act like a normal person with normal problems
Seven years later, we’re still here.
I thought it was a crisis that was going to pass. I thought we would get over the worst of it. I thought it would “get better.” In fact, I thought that all the advice we got was intended to make it go away.
But seven years later, we’re still here.
The secret that nobody tells you is that it really might not get better. You just get used to the insanity, like a lobster in a pot, slowly and incrementally adjusting as the heat rises.
Every few months or every few days, or maybe every few hours, you freak out and your stomach bottoms out and you completely lose it. You tell yourself you can’t handle it anymore, that you weren’t made for this, that G-d has the wrong target.
And then somehow or other, you drag yourself back up off the street, bruised and limping, and stumble back home, where, impossibly, you move on.
You get up the next morning and you head into your day, and you act like a normal person with normal problems.
But the truth is that you’re not a normal person with normal problems. You’re a crazy person who has gotten used to chillul Shabbos and drugs and Arby’s. You go to Costco and drive Bais Yaakov car pool and buy chalav Yisrael milk, and also face ugly tattoos and piercings that are hard to even look at.
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