I want to give you a hug. The hug you never really got.

I want to tell you that it’s going to get better.

I want to tell you that it’s true. But it’s also not true.

I want to tell you that religion sometimes came first because it’s what your parents — and I — hold to be the most important thing. And that watching a child go against Yiddishkeit is like watching your child hurt themselves. Who wouldn’t want to save their child from that?

I want to tell you that just like you value freedom and equal rights for all, your parents value Yiddishkeit. And just as you would stand up against anyone who challenged your beliefs, your parents stand up for theirs.

I want to tell you that it was your parents’ mental illness that sometimes stopped them from seeing you and your needs. That they didn’t have the tools to be there for you in the way you so desperately desired.

I want to give you the skills to deal with the pain.

I want to help you understand your emotions and how they are there to help you make sense of the world around you. They are a warning of sorts, to signal when something isn’t right.

I want to hold space for your inner child, the little you that needs to be nurtured and held.

I want to rewind your life and fix where things went amiss.

I want to help you make sense of the pain you’ve been through, and encourage and reassure you that you can rise above this. That one day you’ll blossom and build a family.

I pray that one day I can help you toward that goal. But, at this moment, my job as a therapist is to be here, present, and to help you hold and explore the pain you are feeling now. This is my opportunity to see you and your needs and to alleviate your current pain.

So I take a deep breath, take a step back, whisper a prayer in my mind, and focus on this moment.

“That sounds so painful. So incredibly painful. Would you explore it with me?”

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 831)