It’s 3am, Motzei shabbos, after Purim. I’m sitting and trying to process the last 48 hours. So much to say. So much to write. I feel compelled to write on behalf of myself but more so on behalf of the many people I’ve spoken to and supported before and on Purim. Purim is beautiful. It’s a day so full of joy and excitement. The unbelievably joyous atmosphere permeates through the walls of every Jewish home, every shul, ever passing car along with the most creative and fun costumes! Purim is a day when we let go and let loose of our pains, stresses and worries. To most that is. We can drink away our pain but not all can. We can block it all away, but not all can. We can pretend to be happy and full of life, but not all can. For myself and the many countless others who’ve been hurt, broken and abused in the most horrific of ways, our pain is not “drinkable”, or “bury-able”. The very thin mask we’d wear on Purim isn’t nearly strong enough to cover our deep inner wounds, bleeding souls and broken hearts. I’ve had a complex surgery several weeks ago. It stopped me from doing many household and work chores. It was all so  simple and easy. I physically wasn’t able to do it regardless of how much effort I put in. There were no expectations. No disappointments. No judgements of “just get over it”. I couldn’t help but think “if only”. If only mental health would be on the same caliber as physical health. If only fighting and winning an intense suicidal battle would be celebrated in the same ways as fighting a physical illness. If only, we can be open in regard to shul, a wedding, a family simcha or party and simply say, I have too much trauma to attend for now and that would be considered an acceptable response. If only, people would realize the non human amount of strength it takes to get up each and every morning. If only, people would realize how hard it is to show up at work after yet another sleepless night, another panic attack or a brutal trauma flashback. If only, people would know the amount of energy, bravery and courage it takes to face your worst inner demons every week at therapy. The world would look so different. My world and the worlds’ of so many others of who’m I’ve spoken to would look different. Purim would’ve looked so different. I can’t begin to describe the enormous feelings of absolute panic and anxiety Purim brings on to so so many. It’s a day of intense joy to some but a day of the most horrific and awful pain to others. The direct contrast, staring us in the face at every turn is so incredibly painful. It’s as though we’re living in a different world while desperately trying to remain on this planet for our families. That painful contrast makes us feel so incredibly lonely. Like I always say, I’m not angry nor am I bitter. It’s not a place I naturally go to. I’m just hurting. Hurting for myself and hurting for the many hundreds and thousands of people out there who by no fault of their own, […]