On Succos, we gather our crops, reflect on our harvest. In life, we gather our experiences, appreciate what we’ve gained

"It’s not fair.” I pressed a hand to my eyes. I sounded like a five-year-old. The fact that I just had my third child didn’t seem to make my thought process any more mature. But the fact that I’d just suffered through my third bout of postpartum depression seemed to validate my childish outlook.

Rivky looked me in the eye, “What’s not fair?”

“Life. Life’s not fair. All my friends are easily having kids, one after another, and I’ve suffered Gehinnom with each birth. And there doesn’t seem to be any hope of it easing for my future family either. Why do I have to suffer so much when others have it so easy?”

I paused and groped for the ever-present tissue box. “I know, I know, everyone has different nisyonos in life. But I never signed up for this, and I don’t want it! I feel like saying, ‘Sorry, I can’t handle this. Please return to sender.’ ”

Rivky hadn’t become a top family therapist by getting intimidated by cynics like me. She was sharp, sifting through my thoughts and feelings, pinpointing strengths and weakness. She was persistent, demanding focus and participation. And, most important, she was genuinely caring.

In tandem, we pieced together the fragments of my anger, bitterness, and hopelessness. I felt like a victim, but Rivky wouldn’t allow me to wallow. Each session was structured with goals, strategies, and exercises. I left invigorated, only to return the following week, deflated.