Newly divorced and adrift, how could I find a safe harbor?

As told to Shoshana Gross

The only way ahead was down. I stood outside the beis din, an early-thirties mother of four daughters, the finality of a get in my hand. Daas Torah encouraged me to take this step, end the long years of desperate struggle to save my marriage.

Not what I imagined as a fresh-faced kallah floating on dreams of the future.

That was the beginning. This was the end.

Unmoored from everything familiar, I drifted into waters unknown. Ready or not — and I wasn’t — the choppy waters of divorce closed over my life.

Riptide

Breathe. Keep going. Repeat.

So much of a divorced mother’s life is spent in survival mode. The deluge of demands pulled and tugged at every waking moment. My job was now a necessity, but so was spending time with my children, each one lost and hurting. Homework, supper, laundry, cleaning the house — the familiar aspects of the household routine. And new, not-so-familiar aspects: paying the gas bill, changing burned-out lightbulbs in the bathroom, facing down a centipede with my shrieking teenager perched a safe distance away, taking out the garbage, bringing the minivan to the mechanic for new brake pads.

And being a single mother was tiring. I sank under the exhaustion of being physically and emotionally “on” All. The. Time.

I was the only one around to hold my frantic five-year-old when the newest round of nightmares hit.  Constantly collapsing into bed so late that I couldn’t face the accusing numbers of the clock on my dresser, I covered the shadows under my eyes with layers of makeup that didn’t fool even my coffee cup. Survive the moment. And the next.

But I didn’t always fend for myself. My parents moved in or invited us every other Shabbos. My friends were on speed dial. My neighbors cared, without smothering me in layers of pity. Still, sometimes the loneliness was overwhelming. No one to share the struggles and triumphs of the day with come evening. I had no moments of togetherness, nowhere to unload the heaviest mental burdens.

Run-down and depleted, I struggled to be everything for my children, with nothing left for myself. I needed time to breathe, process the pain, and live again, but I wasn’t sure how.