"Care, and daven, for those you know who are still waiting. They yearn for these blessings more than you can ever know"

Those Who Are Waiting [Windows / Issue 787]

I read the article about the single young woman who simultaneously bears the challenge of singlehood and childlessness with deep pain and understanding. I know that feeling all too well. In my mid-twenties, all I wanted was a husband. But as I reach the end of this decade, the yearning for children has grown painfully, and I keenly feel the absence of both.

As singles, we feel intense pressure to smile, appear happy and sociable, and act naturally when surrounded by younger siblings and friends with their husbands and families. Most of the time, it’s an act, as inside ourselves we feel our incompleteness like a deep, constant wound.

With Pesach approaching, our fragility is all but intensified; at a time focused on families, we’re so vulnerable, our differences and our lack thrown into sharp relief. I wonder if you’ll see the brittleness in our smiles, our eyes that are a bit too bright, our absences from the table that last a minute too long, and the pain and tears simmering so close to the surface.

Care, and daven, for those you know who are still waiting. They yearn for these blessings more than you can ever know.

Name Withheld

Sow Chizuk, Not Despair [Windows / Issue 787]

I’d like to express my sincere appreciation for the quality, Torahdig material you put out each week. I believe that it is the achrayus of a frum publication with such a wide reach to ask itself of each article it publishes: What are we trying to accomplish with this article?

In recent weeks, there have been several articles along the same lines: A single girl, expressing her pain, sadness, and frustration with the long years she’s waited for her zivug and all the parts of that journey that hurt so deeply. And I ask, what is the purpose of these articles? To scare young singles that they may be in this stage for the long haul? To focus in on the suffering that, unfortunately, many of our girls are going through? To tell our not-yet-marrieds that their identity is defined by their singlehood, that they may not have a full measure of joy when their time finally comes, that they may have years of waiting and hurting ahead of them? Do our girls need to be reminded that their journey is painful?

I’m a (relatively young) single girl. Baruch Hashem, I have wonderful mentors who give me guidance that I should see my zivug as “just around the bend.” They advise me to use this time to keep working and growing, to prepare myself for marriage and motherhood, to invest tefillos into my future, to pour as much energy as possible into my ruchniyus while I’m still at this stage of life.

In a frum, thoughtful publication, I hope to see more content providing chizuk and spreading hope among our not-yet-marrieds, not ones that sow fear and despair.

Thank you.

Anonymous

Square Peg in a Round Hole [What You Don’t See / Issue 787]

Thank you for your article about children with hidden disabilities. It was so validating to myself and others who deal with these issues on a daily basis.

When my 16-year-old son was little, I had to arrange places for him to play before Shabbos. I found it so painful since there were many people who didn’t understand him. I remember trying on shoes for him because taking him to a store was too over-stimulating for him.

In the yeshivah system, we spent years trying to fit the square peg into the round hole.

He was in self-contained classes within the regular school for two years. At the end of each year, he was kicked out. Then he was in a regular school that kindly agreed to have him.

High school has not been smooth. My son’s already gone through a couple of schools even though he’s only in tenth grade.

After all the pain that he and I’m sure many others have gone through for being so misunderstood, he has gone “off the derech.”

This past week we had an interview at a non-Jewish special-needs school, which I’d been pushing off for some time. We had spoken to a gadol who told us that for mental health, we should do what’s best for our son.

I literally felt like crying when I walked through the door. I felt like my son had come home. All of the students in the school appeared to be a version of my son. It was such a relief —and yet it was so sad that it wasn’t a Jewish school. But despite my community growing so quickly, there’s no Jewish school for kids like these.

There’s so much pain involved with these misinterpreted children. Having to put a child through the regular yeshivah system is destroying their self-esteem and Yiddishkeit. Until Jewish schools for high functioning special-needs students are opened, these problems will continue.

Thank you again for opening the doors of opportunity with your article.

We need to build neshamos, not destroy them.

A Mother of an Anxious, ADHD, ASD, yet Loveable Son

He’s Holding Me [What You Don’t See / Issue 787]

My son has been a handful since he turned one. He’s now almost five and has been struggling in school recently, which prompted us to seek more help than we’d had. We finally took him to a developmental pediatrician on Thursday, who very confidently diagnosed our son with ADHD. On Thursday night, I was a wreck: crying, worried about the future, and stressed about the now.

And then I noticed the cover of Family First. I had chills. The timing was unreal. I literally felt like Hashem was holding me, telling me that I could do this and I’d do it together with His help.

Thank you for including this article on this specific week. You lifted me up on Erev Shabbos and provided me with a really valuable read at the most crucial time.

A Mommy of a Delicious Boy with ADHD

Can We See Some Representation? [What You Don’t See / Issue 787]

Your watchwords ought to be “no publication without representation.”

There’s a wealth of resources and educational materials available online. I’m sick to death of reading pieces that center neurodiversity on parents and family members instead of the people with those diagnoses. I’m sick to death of the tragedy narrative. I’m sick to death of seeing outdated terms like Asperger’s in current publications, when it hasn’t been used in the DSM since 2013.

Whether they’re autistic, dyslexic, anxious, or have ADHD, these children grow up to become adults who — surprise! — also like to read magazines on Shabbos.

You can do better.

Ayala

Still Not Okay [Musings / Issue 785]

Yocheved Zerfman, much of what you wrote in your article, “It’s Okay Not to Be Okay” could have been dictated by me.

I’m at day 11 since I tested positive for coronavirus, and I’m still not feeling okay.

The first few days had me in bed with a high fever, unable to move my head without agony. I alternated between sleeping, coughing, and counting down the hours to my next pain reliever.

Since the majority of my community doesn’t believe the virus is still something to contend with, I didn’t feel comfortable sharing with anyone outside of my immediate family that after two whole years of being cautious, it finally got me.

Now that I’m sick, my husband has started wearing a mask for a period of time in case he also comes down with the virus. The flak he got when he appeared masked at davening that first Shabbos… What is it about our frum brethren that makes them feel it’s okay to publicly make fun of someone who chooses to do something different? Hearing how people degraded him and told him he’s sick in the head made me feel even worse than I already did.

When I felt well enough to read, I picked up Family First, read your article, reread it, and then cried tears borne from validation.

I went grocery shopping yesterday. The whole affair took maybe 30 minutes. Yet I pulled up in my driveway and couldn’t muster up the energy to get out of the car. Never mind bringing in the things I’d just purchased…

I’m not okay. And that’s okay.

Thank you for helping me through this journey that I didn’t ask to go on.

Roiza

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 789)