Puzzle with missing pieces, with the words, “I was wrong,” in the middle.
Remember back to COVID days? I would never have anticipated that the world would endure such a difficult pandemic. Yet in many ways, it now feels as if it were long ago. At the time, my beloved husband/editor said as I was about to work on a column, “You’re going to write about COVID again? How much can you write about it?”
After that we had an 843-day war, and with all that we went through, we are still very much on edge, not knowing what tomorrow will bring. During the war, my beloved husband/editor said, “You’re going to write about the war again? How much can you write about the war?”
I responded, “Well, it’s still going on, so that’s what my readers are thinking about. Each week brings about different issues for them, and each needs to be addressed.”
So, he looked me in the eye and said, “Maybe it’s time to write about something else.” I said, “Okay, what should I write about?” He not so helpfully said, “I don’t know, maybe pick something benign like enuresis.” “Enuresis – bed wetting! Are you serious? Someone could simply Google that,” I responded.
Then along came AI. I am the most technically challenged person on Earth, but a friend installed ChatGPT on my cellphone. Once or twice, when I’ve asked certain questions, I found myself politely thanking AI for “her” thoughtful response.
It is all a bit – if not a lot- scary, but I’ll save that for another time. AI, along with Google and Siri, have kindly enabled me to not write about enuresis because my readers could easily access this information.
I want my columns to address a different aspect of psychology. After 26 years of writing for The Jerusalem Post, I believe the articles should reflect something deeper than simply presenting facts.
As such, my most recent columns, which openly explored aspects of my husband’s sudden death and my grandson’s brain tumor – and even the two columns I wrote back in 2014 about my own cancer – are not topics most people are comfortable chatting about.
What has been my impetus for continuing this column, as we move forward, is the hope that I can help provide some strategies for coping with whatever life throws at us. Readers, your recent feedback has been incredible and makes me feel that I am on the right track. I always welcome your thoughts.
You’re right, I’m wrong
Recently, on a busy Friday afternoon, I dropped off an important envelope with a friend who was flying abroad. Using a walker, she met me at the front door of her apartment building and invited me to sit in the lobby with her for a few minutes.
With no place to park in the immediate area, she suggested that I park directly in front of her building. When I stated that it looked like someone’s parking spot, she said she had never seen anyone park there and we’d literally sit for a few minutes.
Wrong on both accounts. We started chatting, and time flew by. When I left, I discovered that my car was blocked by the owner of the spot I was parked in. As I was debating what to do with Shabbat quickly approaching, an angry man suddenly appeared, rebuking me and shouting that he had considered keeping his car blocking mine until Shabbat ended.
Yelling at me that I had no right to take his spot, he seemed surprised when I looked him in the eye and said, “Yes, you are absolutely right. What I did was wrong.” He continued his rant for several minutes, and I calmly said again that he was indeed correct and that I should not have taken his spot, and that what I did was wrong.
Coming physically closer to me, he realized that I was religious and said that what I did was a hillul Hashem, “a desecration of God’s name.” In other words, he was suggesting that what I did was even worse because I was religious. Again, I said to him that of course he was right and that I should not have parked in his spot.
My friend, who had been listening in silence and in shock until then, began to explain that she was taking an important envelope back to Canada because my husband had recently died. At that point, the man looked to me for confirmation and, upon receiving it, said he was sorry.
I wasn’t sure just what he was sorry for – my loss or that he had yelled at me – but the conversation ended, and with the clock ticking away, I wished him Shabbat shalom and drove home. While my friend was upset at this man’s behavior, again I said to her that I should not have taken a spot that was not mine to take.
What if everybody did that?
When I first began to cover my head, my daughter said to me, “Ima [Mom], if you wear a hat, you cannot just ‘be’ religious, but you must also ‘act’ religious. People will have higher expectations for your behavior, and you will now be representing all who are religious. You must always think before you speak or act because you will be judged.”
My daughter was right with respect to my parking, and this was a perfect example. It shouldn’t matter if we are religious or not: We all must be held accountable for our actions. I have referred in the past to a book our children loved when they were younger, What If Everybody Did That? (Ellen Javernick, 1990), which talks about throwing garbage out the window, splashing in the pool, feeding animals at the zoo, and more.
We each have to work on ourselves every day. Our actions have an impact on those around us. I was reminded once again that I have no right to park in someone else’s spot, even for just five minutes. I apologized so quickly because I had been in this man’s situation, which, of course, made it all much worse.
We used to live next door to a famous young Israeli movie star/singer, and her father constantly blocked my driveway. When I got angry with his behavior and confronted him, he looked me in the eye and said, “Just come knock on my door, and I’ll move my car.” I was in shock.
I told him I would not ring his doorbell to ask permission when I want to leave my house. Furthermore, I reminded him that I was on call with the Hatzalah emergency service, so if I had to leave, time was of the essence. When he continued to ignore me, I threatened to call the police. He finally heard me and stopped parking there.
Just let it flow
As a psychologist, I try to look at most situations with curiosity and ask what I can learn from these incidents. We may not want feedback from others – be it a driver, our family, or our friends – but when it is given appropriately, it is important for our personal growth.
We have an enormous capacity to enrich our lives when we can step back and appreciate the world around us. Sometimes we fail to hear or to listen, or we simply don’t see what is right in front of our eyes. We sadly remain untouched by the caring of others and all that we are blessed with, and we get caught up with and preoccupied by things that are truly unimportant.
The past several months have reminded me that once again, my life is not totally within my control (as much as I would like it to be) and that some days I need to take life one hour at a time because one day at a time may feel too long. And that, too, is a gift – if we can appreciate the small things and allow ourselves to just zorem, “to flow.”
I am very grateful as always to you, my readers, for your feedback – and I ask everyone to please include Yishai ben Shayna Miriam in your prayers. Together, we all can and will make a difference.■
The writer is a licensed clinical psychologist in private practice in Ra’anana, specializing in trauma, loss, grief, and bereavement. The co-author of the recently released book The Jewish Journey through Loss: From Death to Healing (Koren Publishers) and author of Life’s Journey: Exploring Relationships – Resolving Conflicts, she has written about psychology in The Jerusalem Post since 2000. [email protected], drbatyaludman.com
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