The last few weeks, I’ve been finding it really hard to talk to God.
I’m still doing it, for an hour a day, but I can’t remember a time when doing hitbodedut was coming so hard.
Not even in the middle of a lot of tremendous suffering, on the personal level, have I found it this hard, for this long, to talk to God.
Usually when this happens, I know why:
I’m angry at Him.
And when you’re angry at someone, it’s hard to speak to them.
This morning, I was trying to drill down a bit more, to figure out what, exactly, I’m angry about.
My own life is about the best it’s ever been right now, on so many levels.
And yet I am struggling to get out of bed in the morning, and I’m struggling to cook, and I’m struggling to do anything except really just stay in my pyjamas and hibernate. I’m acting as though I’m depressed – although I don’t feel depressed, and believe me, I spent enough time in my life feeling depressed to be able to make that distinction.
So, what’s going on?
That’s what I was trying to figure out this morning.
And here’s kind of where I got to.
I think I have a very big case of serious yeoush about what’s going on. Yeoush means despair, for those who don’t speak Hebrew.
I think everyone has their own personal package of yeoush going on right now, but for me, it’s based around the feeling I have that no-one really wants to hear what I have to say.
That kind of got underlined with this whole Covid plandemic.
I’ve spent hours and hours and hours carefully researching things, carefully piecing information together, carefully writing posts here, to try to warn people that things really may not be as they seem, and to encourage them to think for themselves.
But most people really just don’t want to hear.
And then, once I realised that, I also realised that this is kind of the story of my life.
Last week, I unexpectedly ended up in Caesarea with my husband. Long story short, he really needed the toilet, and we knew where there were public bathrooms in Caesarea, so that’s where we headed.
Our best friends used to live in Caesarea, so we know the place really well. But we haven’t been back for a couple of years, because our former best friends went through a truly awful divorce, and the place is now synonymous (for me…) with a lot of sadness and heartache.
For years, I was begging my friend to start really praying about her husband’s bad middot. For years, I was having discussions with the husband himself, about things that needed some attention – not least, his very unhealthy relationship with his parents.
I wrote about that HERE.
Long story short, his parents basically ruined his marriage, and then her parents basically ruined the divorce.
How different things could have been, if they’d both been talking to God and working on their bad middot, and going to Uman, and trying to learn more of Rebbe Nachman’s advice.
Instead, where that family used to be there is now a jagged crater.
And if I’m still feeling it so hard, a couple of years after it imploded, I can’t imagine how my friends and their children must be feeling about it all.
Two days ago, I gave a lift to someone who has cancer.
She was moving out of Jerusalem for 3 months, to go somewhere for treatment, and needed a ride. In the car, she was telling me a bit of her life story.
She’s a baal teshuva, married to another baal teshuva, but now in the process of trying to disentangle herself. She’s been married for two decades to a man addicted to alcohol and drugs, who has a massive anger issues.
For 20 years, she was trying to make that marriage work, but now her body is breaking down from the stress, and she can’t do it anymore.
She was telling me about her amazing ‘Rav’, who her husband is close to – and I secretly found myself getting annoyed.
What, this guy couldn’t tell her husband that his bad middot was destroying his marriage and his kids? This guy couldn’t tell the husband he needs to be doing an hour a day of talking to God? That he needs to take responsibility for his anger, instead of pretending like it’s no big deal?!
Most of all, I was upset about all these ‘rabbis’ out there who are keeping people away from the light of the Rav, Rabbi Berland.
Because I know from myself, that so many of my issues only started to resolve themselves when I finally got to the Rav, and could tap into his spiritual koach to really start overcoming my own anger issues, and self-righteousness, and black-and-white thinking.
Until that happened, I was also destroying my children with my own two hands.
All with the best of intentions, of course.
But who wants to listen to this?
Last week, I tried to do a mind-map, to set out goals and aspirations for the next few months.
In the past, I used to do a lot of mind-maps, and I used to get a lot of things done, as a result.
This time around, I wrote down a few headings, and waited for some ideas and inspiration to show up.
Man, it was painful.
I sat looking at the heading called ‘Books I want to write’ for around 5 minutes, until I found myself scrawling this underneath it:
There is no point writing any more books. No-one will read them.
And much as I wish that wasn’t true, I know it is.
So here I sit, with all this yeoush, feeling like the world of lies has kind of won, at least, in my dalet amot.
I know that ‘the troof’ isn’t always what God wants to be told.
I also know that God’s seal is truth, and that for as long as we’re telling ourselves and others lies, we are stuck in a sick world, with apparently ‘unsolvable’ problems.
I’m kind of stuck on the horns of a furious dilemma, as so much of what I’m researching, and so much of what interests me, and so much of what I want to share is a ‘truth’ that no-one wants to hear.
And it’s been that way for years.
Man, I’m feeling sad writing this.
I know, you probably don’t want to be reading it.
What can I do?
My blog is kind of my last sanctuary, the place where I promised myself to tell the truth, even when it’s painful, even when it reveals me in less than glowing colours – and even when people don’t want to hear it.
This world of lies is killing me.
But it seems that ‘the world of truth’ is a very lonely place to hang out in.
First, thanks to everyone who took the time to write or call me after reading this (and also those that didn’t, but had the thought that at least in theory, they would have wanted to reach out.)
I really appreciated your chizzuk, and it reminded me that I’m not alone in all this.
There are so many people like ‘us’ out there, but it seems we’re mostly distanced apart, spread evenly around the globe, as part of Rabbenu’s ‘grid system’, to make sure he’s got the whole world covered with someone who is connected to Rebbe Nachman and the Rav, and trying to get to the truth.
That by itself brought so much comfort – to have all these insightful people sharing their own wisdom, and their own chizzuk and their own emuna.
BH, I am getting back on the horse now.
One of my friends told me that expecting instant results from all this is ridiculous (I’m paraphrasing) and the point is to write for God, and not to write for egotistical reasons and self-gratification.
But sometimes (often…), that’s hard.
But since when was anything truly meaningful in life easy?
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