"A lot of us find ourselves in the position of being the “Shabbos goy” when it comes to having Internet"

TMI? It’s All About Context [Ring Me / Issue 747]

I was intrigued by the premise of the recent installment of Ring Me. On the surface it looks like always getting a “yes” after dates one, two, and three is great, but this story showed how getting emotionally invested time and again with the wrong person is actually a liability.

Mrs. Leiman’s advice on not being too open too fast was right on target. And honestly it should be heeded not only by girls in shidduchim. There’s a paradox I’ve noticed and wondered about. On one hand, we applaud people who are open and real, and we welcome frank discussion and genuine sharing. On the other hand, how often have you been at a simchah or schmoozing in the park when someone starts discussing personal issues in a frank manner, and you find yourself squirming with discomfort, thinking I shouldn’t know this about you.

What’s the difference? I believe it’s all about context.

If we’re close friends, then by all means, I want to hear about what’s really going on in your life (although even that has its limits: Some things should remain between you and your spouse, with the possible exceptions of your rav and/or therapist). But if I met you 15 minutes ago, then it makes me uncomfortable to hear very personal details of your life.

Just as there are first-date conversations and fifth-date topics, the same principles apply in other relationships. Let’s save the fifth-date conversations for our close friends.

Raizel Bernstein

They’ll Never Understand [Closure / Issue 746]

I want to thank Devora Kaufman for her piece on “Closure,” about how she learned to deal with the pain from TCs (tactless comments) that came from CIs (clueless individuals) when struggling through infertility.

The piece focused on her cousin Elisheva, whom she met at a family simchah. She’d thought Elisheva would be sympathetic to her situation, as they’d supported each other through shidduchim. But Elisheva seemed oblivious to her pain, constantly talking about pregnancy and birth. And although the author wanted nothing more than to put Elisheva in her place and tell her how she really felt, she decided to let it go. She realized that Elisheva would never understand her pain.

At IWSTHAB, we have many conversations about the TCs from CIs. These posts foster a camaraderie and bring a sense of community to the deep isolation and despair one can feel during infertility or loss. The point of these discussions is not to start a bash-fest or to see which comment is the worst, but to educate our audience. What seems to one person like an innocuous, throwaway comment is extremely painful to someone living through that experience.

But there’s also the “sh’eino yode’ia lishol” — the people who don’t know how to be sensitive no matter how many times they read one of our posts, who are too wrapped up in their own lives, who are too set in their ways. These people will never be as sensitive or kind as you’d like. They mean well, but you often walk away from an interaction with them feeling misunderstood, ashamed, and hurt.

Our advice is always in line with Mrs. Kaufman’s. Your job is not to hit these people over the head, with the same information they will never remember. Your job is to recognize that they will never understand your pain and will never respond in a way that will be supportive or compassionate.

When you know this going in, you know what to expect. Just as you’d never expect a toddler to know how to drive a car, so too you should never expect people like this to be there for you in a meaningful way. Some people will never understand.

Thank you for discussing these important topics. The more we talk about difficult topics, the more support those who are struggling will get from those who have the capacity to do so.

Aimee Baron, MD

Founder and Director, I Was Supposed To Have A Baby

www.iwassupposedtohaveababy.org

From the Other Side of the Table [Closure / Issue 746]

Dear Devora Kaufman,

Although I may not be your cousin, I sure feel like I am. Your article brought me to tears and my heart goes out to you. I can’t even imagine what it’s like to go to a simchah in your situation.

But can I please share with you what I feel like when we spend simchahs together? Of course I try my best not to complain about my pregnancies and babies. I would avoid the topic altogether, but it’s impossible to do so with all of the other cousins around. If they start talking about it, do you want me to abruptly change the topic? Or is that worse? Do you want me to leave my kids with a babysitter instead of bringing them to the Chanukah party? How would Bubby feel?

You wrote that you were hurt when I mentioned that I needed an expensive medical treatment between two of my kids’ births. My intention wasn’t to show that life is a pain contest. I just wanted you to know that not everyone’s life is as rosy as it seems. Dou you know that one of our cousin’s marriage is falling apart? Maybe the fact that you mentioned your husband taking out the garbage makes you a CI to her? And my sister barely has money to put food on the table. Talking about a steak supper is surely a TC to her.

Because your problem is more apparent, we hope everyone will be extra cautious around you, but you really never know what everyone else is going through.

I hope I didn’t hurt you in this letter. I just wanted you to know what it feels like from the other side of the table. I’m continuing to daven for you as I always did and hoping for only simchahs for our family.

Love

Your cousin

Shattered but Not Broken [Lifetakes / Issue 746]

Irony of ironies. I wrote about the china set my grandparents gave me for a wedding gift. It had been a perfect service for 12 until last week. My kids helped me set the table and I joked with them that this Shabbos the plates were the “stars of the show” — they knew my essay had been published that week.

I snapped a few pictures of the perfectly set table to send to some friends who wanted to see the plates. Five minutes after I took the perfect picture of the perfect table a dish fell from the hands of my three-year-old. Crestfallen, I worried that the plates had gotten too much attention that week…. I kissed my little culprit, swept up the sparkling shards, and forced myself to see new meaning. There is beauty in the imperfections — in the struggle, in the messy work it takes to spin dreams into reality.

Chana Goodman

Passaic NJ

Sick of Sharing My PC [Friendship Fix / Issue 746]

I really enjoyed the Friendship Fix about the woman whose friend used her computer to shop online despite her disapproving husband. It touched upon an issue that I’d love to discuss.

A lot of us find ourselves in the position of being the “Shabbos goy” when it comes to having Internet. This was exacerbated during COVID, when people were not near their offices where they’d usually access the Internet. During the first few months of COVID, I had to go out of my way to accommodate my coworker without Internet, at a period when no one had spare time.

When people use the Internet at our homes to do personal shopping, it seems a little hypocritical. But is it? I wonder how we should respond. Are us Internet users allowed to put our feet down and say, “I’m sorry you don’t have Internet, but it’s not my job to accommodate you”? Or do we go out of the way to accommodate non-Internet users, to help them keep it out of their homes ?

Confused About My Computer

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 748)