I write this on Sunday night, the evening after Yom Kippur, and I find myself completely drained, emotionally and physically. The challenging period that began on Rosh Hashana has left me feeling overwhelmed.
I grew up enduring intense abuse and trauma—enough to push me away from religion, from everything I once held dear. But, somehow, with strength I never knew I had, I fought. I pushed, I cried, I worked hard, and over many years of therapy, spending more than $200,000, I’ve healed in many ways.
There were times, however, when I felt I had reached the end—moments when the darkness was so suffocating, I could barely breathe. Times when I didn’t think I could make it through the day. And yet, in my most desperate moments, I always felt as though Hashem dropped me a lifeline. That lifeline came in many forms, and I knew it was Hashem holding the other end of the rope.
But even with this support, there are still areas in my life that remain unhealed. One of the most painful challenges is going to shul. Outwardly, I seem like a successful father with a stable job, a husband with seven beautiful children living in a regular frum community. But beneath that facade lies an enormous amount of deep, unhealed pain.
When I go to shul, I experience severe flashbacks and triggers. I’ve tried therapy, medications, and creative methods to cope. I’ve tried different shuls. But after nearly losing my life over it, I realized that for now, this isn’t what Hashem wants from me. Hashem wants me to stay safe, work through the trauma, and be the best father and husband I can be.
What hurts me most is the judgment from others. Though I know Hashem isn’t judging me, I see the looks from my neighbors, the gossip about “the man who never goes to shul.” My children and wife face questions that cut deep. In shidduchim or social circles, the first question is often, “Where does he daven?”
Do they know I sit by the window on Friday nights, crying as I watch the other men walk to shul? Do they understand how many tears I’ve shed over this apparent weakness, how I’d give anything to be part of the community? Do they know how many sleepless Friday nights I’ve spent feeling so different and alone?
This month, full of Yomim Tovim, intensifies the pain. Watching others walk to shul, feeling left out and disconnected, is agonizing.
So I’m calling out to two groups:
To those who go to shul: Please know that many of us are desperately longing to join you. We would do anything to be there, but sometimes, despite all our efforts, we simply can’t. Please don’t judge us. Please don’t look down on us or measure us by where we daven. Some of us are hidden angels who are still working through challenges, and we just aren’t ready to conquer this one yet.
To those reading this and nodding in understanding: I feel your pain more than words can express. I know the loneliness, the darkness, the despair. It’s rarely spoken about, which makes it even harder, but I see you, and I’m with you. Hang in there. Hold on tight. Let me be a light in your dark journey.
If anyone would like to reach out with comments, ideas, or anything else, please email me at [email protected].
Sincerely,
A Fellow Yid Trying to Heal
The views expressed in this letter do not necessarily represent those of YWN. Have an opinion you would like to share? Send it to us for review.
Join the official YWN WhatsApp status
16 Responses
Sincere thank you to YWN for posting and letting it be posted. A Gut Gebentchta Year To All!
Yasher Koach on the letter! It can be so embarrassing feeling like you can’t do something as simple as going to shul, but THATS where the yetzer hara comes in. It tells you to look around and see how low, bad, weak, etc. you are and to throw everything away. I ENVY YOUR ZCHUSIM FOR HANGING ON. This is such an important letter and I hope it gets the exposure it deserves. Keep going!!!
Very powerful. I can’t even imagine the terrible pain you are enduring for so long. Hashem should give you, and those similar to your situation, the strength and courage to integrate and join us once again. Thanks for sharing your message
@Naki, it sounds like you’ve been through much and have a hard time with compassion and feelings but not judging you because everyones Yetzer Hora and “phobias” are different in specificity and compassion and feeling for another Yid may be your struggle; who knows. Regardless, Hashem should help you and yours as well with whatever your needs and struggles are. Stay safe buddy
This is so sad and hard to read. I am holding your hand silently. Can I perhaps suggest an alternative choice? Is there perhaps a certain kind of shul that doesn’t trigger in the same way? Large vs small? How about Shul’s that’s aren’t the classic kind of shul? For example KMH or aish Kodesh in 5 towns or Mordy’s shtibel in Lakewood/jackson. The davening isn’t your regular style and it’s more of a happy singing jumping situation that’s less rigid. Another extreme is something like stolin where you get into the davening and it’s not just cut dry. Both don’t feel like a shul. Then there are minyan not in shuls. Quick minyan at a nursing home etc. This isn’t easy and I don’t seek to judge any way. I myself ain’t the best in shul and end up talking more than I should . Lots of luck
a lesson in th mishneh of “Al todin es chaveiro ad shetagia limkomo”…
Try going to a shul which no one knows you or about you etc.
דוד המלך אומר בתהלים: “אחת שאלתי מאת ה’ אותה אבקש , שבתי בבית ה’ כל ימי חיי לחזות “בנועם ה ולבקר בהיכלו
Mental illness is suffered all alone every waking moment by the sufferer. I want the letter writer to know that most people aren’t so judgemental of you. There are so many Shuls to daven in that no one can track your missing attendance.
Part of the pain of mental illness is the wrongly assumed mind reading of others being rejecting of you. Try to be proud of your accomplishments despite the challenges you were given, you have nothing to be ashamed of. There are thousands of Frum Yidden living with different forms of mental illness feeling lonely & ashamed of the condition.
May Hashem send you lasting healing soon.
My friend just had an almost identical experience after going through a rough divorce: He wouldn’t come to shul etc… BH he’s better now and we are praying for the anonymous writer to merit the same very soon אמן. Stay strong כלל ישראל has your back.
Wherever a Yid stands and davens is the Kodesh HaKadoshim. I’ve had to daven in warehouses, construction sites, and the like. It makes not one whit of difference where you daven.
@Chaim87
Stolin doesn’t feel like a shul?
There’s nothing like being in shul, I hope you find your way out of this. Hatzlacha Raba.
@pekak
In Stolin its just everyone yelling with a bren by davening. Its a very different kind of davening than when its quiet and everyhting is based on the bal tefila vs the crowd. Its not the same as my local shtibel. In terms of triggers its a very different vibe.
Thank you very much for posting. This post was very needed for some to be able to understand others. We all have different test in our lives and we can never really know someone else’s as the Mishna says.
That said for those suggesting maybe try another Shul, even though the comment is trying to be helpful, it can actually be insensitive. For example growing up a yosom makes going to Shul very difficult to say the least, and it doesn’t matter what Shul it is. So we should all understand it’s different for everyone.
We should all be able to tap into the strength Hashem gave us.
@Chaim87
It’s not just yelling. It’s a nusach.