"It’s rarely spoken about, but here we go. Not. Every. Frum. Woman. Is. A. Cook"

It Isn’t Always Normal [Musings: Peaches and Cream / Issue 735]

I read the essay “Minus the Peaches and Cream” about the writer’s difficult adjustment to motherhood, about how she often felt helpless, overwhelmed with emotion and her thoughts, and was constantly second-guessing herself. I really disagreed with her conclusion that her experiences weren’t a symptom of postpartum depression and that they were simply part of being a new mother.

Yes, motherhood, and life itself, isn’t all smooth sailing, and we’re often given difficult challenges. But as someone who’s had six children, baruch Hashem, and who’s experienced depression and anxiety that went undiagnosed for many years, I can tell you that life can be quite enjoyable if you’re in the right frame of mind, and the challenges can be challenging but bearable.

Women who feel high levels of stress, or who experience anxious thoughts and self-doubt shouldn’t accept these as a normal part of the adjustment to motherhood. Isn’t it worth an appointment with a mental-health professional? Then you won’t have to experience them ever again — and you’ll be able to enjoy mothering so much more.

Name Withheld

Let’s Be Real [Inbox / Issue 735]

The article about the woman who was married to an alcoholic was a tough read. It’s clear from the responses that this is a bigger issue than people would like to think.

That said, can we get real for a minute? I’m so happy that the protagonist and the letter writers are trading notes about the 12 Steps and the recovery process, but can we talk about all those alchohol addict-kiddush-club-machers who are way too macho to do any of this psychobabble fuddy-duddy stuff? Who are sure their twice-yearly (“Purim and Shabbos”) drinking is “no big deal” and in any case have no recollection of the havoc they wreaked while in their drunken stupor, after sleeping off their hangover, so why is anyone blowing it out of proportion and talking about the 12 Steps and recovery?

These guys probably hold down jobs, support their families, and do daf yomi and Avos U’banim and parlor meetings and five-figure donations on Charidy pages, so let’s just not talk about what happens on Shabbos between 11 a.m. and 11 p.m, and everything will be fine, right?

Can we acknowledge the impossible reality the wives of these men face? Get her husband into recovery? Yeah, right. Talk to her husband’s therapist? What therapist? Give an ultimatum? Yeah, then what, she’ll be on the street with only the shirt on her back, and lose her kids to boot.

I’m not sure what the answer is here, but it doesn’t lie in pat suggestions.

S. G.

Why Skip the Sorries? [Step It Up / Issue 734]

After reading Mindel Kassorla’s article about skipping the sorry, I felt compelled to write in. While I get her point about not feeling guilty when a situation is not in your control, saying you’re sorry if you’re late, or telling your children you’re sorry their plans didn’t work out will not mar your own menuchas hanefesh! The article’s suggestion — to say “Now is not the time” — is a callous response.

My mother a”h, who recently passed away from COVID-19, was perhaps the humblest woman I knew. She always used to say, “Your crown won’t fall off from saying I’m sorry.” I was horrified to see an entire paragraph just giving advice on how to “skip saying sorry.”

The world would be a better place if there were articles about how you should say you’re sorry. A good way of “mastering” menuchas hanefesh shouldn’t involve borrowing pages out of Sigmund Freud’s playbook. Doing even small acts of kindness to your immediate family and friends will make you feel good about yourself and contribute immensely to your own simchah.

Yocheved S., Suffern, New York

Mindel Kassorla responds:

Dear Yocheved,

Thank you for sharing your honest reply.

Your mother a”h sounds like a very special individual who taught you well the value of humility. I wholeheartedly agree that an apology can do amazing things for a relationship — when it is warranted. Misplaced apologies are a different story. They can be problematic for two different reasons:

1. They unnecessarily turn the focus on me. (I feel bad that you had to wait for me, and now you need to make me feel better about it by politely saying it’s fine.)
2. They lessen the value of real apologies, which should be used for instances where I was actually at fault. (The more times I say I’m sorry I’m not giving you a treat, the more callous my apologies sound — because the kids know I’m not really sorry I’m not giving them the treat.)

A sincere apology can go a very long way. As a senior mechanech once told me when I was unsure if I should apologize to a student for being too hard on her for chutzpahdig behavior, and I feared the apology might detract from her understanding of the seriousness of her offense, “They will always respect you more when you apologize.”

But an apology for something over which you have no control, or over which you had full control and did with full intention, is potentially damaging — not necessarily to your menuchas hanefesh but to the entire relationship.

The first time I realized that insincere apologies were damaging was when it occurred to me that when I say “Selach lanu” in Shemoneh Esreh, I do it easily, and usually absentmindedly. Yet when I’m in a human interaction where I feel I’ve wronged the other person, it’s so hard to get out the words, “Please forgive me.” Why is this? I must be mumbling the words in Shemoneh Esreh without real thought and feeling for what I’ve done wrong. How does that sound to my Creator?!

By extension, any time I can dole out the “I’m sorry”s with ease, it’s a result of the same issue — I’m not giving it much thought. The best way to make sure my apologies mean something is to become more aware of my use of speech and more sensitive to when I say “I’m sorry.”

That being said, I want to qualify that it’s not always appropriate to “skip the sorry” when you did nothing wrong. Sometimes it’s perfectly reasonable to express “I’m sorry” as a display of sympathy (I’m so sorry you fell outside!), and I don’t really think there’s any danger to a relationship with that one. But in a month where my avodah is to ingrain in myself what it really means to give a sincere apology (as so many times my apology is shallow), it’s good to find a way to replace those words with something more appropriate.

I do not wish to give anyone the impression that apologies should be minimized. As you said, the world would be a better place if there were more discussion of how to apologize — meaningfully.

All the best,

Mindel

Step Away from Guilt [Step It Up / Issue 734]

I picked up the Family First this week, read Step It Up, and promptly began crying. I’m an emotional person by nature, but magazine articles don’t usually get my waterworks going — that was a first for me.

Guilt, as Mrs. Kassorla aptly put it, is very Jewish. For some reason, our nation (specifically the females, if I may add) finds it helpful to spend eons regretting, worrying, and beating ourselves up about things that are not in our control. I’ve recently noticed this trait in myself.

I’m in my late teens, and like most teenagers, my friendships are very important to me. I have a close friend who has been in my life for the past four years, and over the last year and a half, I’ve unfortunately had a front-seat view of her rapidly spiraling path. The choices she’s been making are putting her into a place that is highly consequential to her.

I know that I am not in control of her choices or her life. But a large part of me found ways to berate myself for her behavior. A voice in my mind keeps going back to where this all began and tells me how I could have prevented all of it. And as I continue to watch one of my closest friends become unrecognizable, the guilt inside of me is growing and growing.

This month’s Step It Up struck a chord. I finally managed to ask myself: Is the guilt helping me in any way? Is it helping my friend? Is this solving any problems?

The answer to all three questions was a strong no.

I am not to blame for my friend’s poor choices. I did not cause her current lot in life, and I cannot fix it.

I realized that the level of guilt I’ve been experiencing may even be considered a lack of emunah. Of course I know that Hashem is in control of everything, but I’ve been thinking that I too have some semblance of control. And I don’t. It’s all up to Him.

Racheli Herzka

Pick Up the Phone [Musings: The Nachas Call / Issue 734]

This week’s Musings about how meaningful those nachas calls can be was a great read! I’d like to share a cute story of my own.

When I was a student in Bais Yaakov of Montreal, my parents got lots of calls from my teachers and principal. Alas, I wouldn’t exactly call them “nachas calls.”

Fast-forward a few years: I graduated, went to seminary, married, moved away for a bit, and then returned to my hometown. As fate would have it, I found myself back in my old school on the other side of the desk, teaching Grade One.

Rachelli, my sweet six-year-old student, fell ill with the flu and missed a few days of school. On Wednesday, burning with fever, she pleaded with her parents to allow her to come to school for just a short while since it was Parshah day.

Rachelli’s father was surprised that a child would beg to go to school, especially when she could barely sit up in bed. He made a phone call to my principal (Rabbi Shneur Aisenstark) and told him what had happened. In turn, Rabbi Aisenstark called my parents and repeated the story. Ahhh… my parents finally got their nachas call! (And no, they didn’t hang up on him — my thrilled parents said, “Tell us more!”)

Thank you, Rebecca (Feldbaum) Steier, for pointing out how meaningful these nachas calls can be! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some calls to make.

Miriam (Finkelstein) Fishberg, Montreal/Passaic

They’ll Sleep Eventually [Editor’s Letter / Issue 734]

I was disappointed to read how sleep training was portrayed as just another necessary thing that needs to be done, just like potty training, in Bassi Gruen’s letter about raising children.

Sleep training can have many harmful effects, as it leads to an increased stress response in babies. Additionally, many rabbinic sources caution against sleep training, such as Rabbi Kelemen in his book To Kindle a Soul.

I really do love your magazine, but I find it disconcerting that you praise this habit — it’s not the first time you’ve done so. Many first-time moms may read it and think that it is the only option, which it really isn’t. I do not sleep train my kids, and eventually, they do sleep.

A Mom with Securely Attached Kids

A Nuanced Picture [Tastes Like Shabbos / Issue 732]

I really enjoyed reading about Rabbanit Bitton-Blau and her colorful and inspiring life. Her recipe also looked delicious, a great fusion of Sephardic flavors with an Ashkenazi base.

But the line that left me floored and so, so grateful was the one that mentioned how it took her a year after her husband’s untimely passing to recoup her spiritual bearings before continuing to give chizuk to others.

I am so grateful to both the magazine and to her children for their wisdom and graciousness in sharing that fact. I’m sure I am not the only woman who marveled at this mature and realistic depiction of a very great woman who dealt with a truly devastating loss, and who was honest about the time she needed to come to terms with it and develop new sources of strength. Some of us find those “always-perfect” women to be inspiring, but I suspect that the portrait presented here is inspiring for many more of us.

Thank you for sharing this realistic and nuanced picture.

B.R.

Put in Some Takeout [Family Table]

Your therapists, experts, and rebbetzins often write about dysfunctional homes and provide solutions, or at least insight so that others might be spared. But with all due respect, you, Family First, are responsible for creating some of that dysfunction.

It’s rarely spoken about, but here we go.

Not. Every. Frum. Woman. Is. A. Cook.

Got it? We don’t all looooove perusing cookbooks or wait breathlessly for recipe supplements because they’re “so much fun” to look at. Nope.

But it was all good until you guys decided to create and push the notion that every frum woman is really Betty Crocker who happens to do OT by day.

For years, my family was fine with whatever I whipped together, using ingenuity, mazel, and takeout. But now my teenage girls bought into the story you guys are selling and they want to write menus! Discuss meals and what we’re serving! Prepare the proper settings and look!

And when I complained to my husband, he said, “What do you mean, every frum woman loves to cook, it’s normal, thank Hashem they’re excited!”

I blame you.

My tone is flippant, but seriously, I would like you to recognize that a family table doesn’t have to feature showstopping dishes. Food isn’t the sole fundamental of the Jewish home.

Some families do fine with takeout. Consider sometimes doing a column on takeout tips — what to avoid, what works, how to serve it — so that the quiet, steady message of inadequacy I’m getting is stilled for a week every now and then.

F. Landau, Monsey

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 736)