I find myself becoming an "expert" on divorce. Just like my friends who got divorced before me. People call me to ask for advice... the latest was - how do I help my friend? What do I say? What do I not say? Do I invite her? Do I just let her be? So, while I don't pretend to know what every woman wants to hear, I can share what worked for me. Again, this is not for me, my life is as perfect as can be, I'm writing this to help others, both divorced women and their well-meaning friends.
Before I begin - one very important point. I cannot emphasize this enough. You do not - do you hear me? - do not!- argue with the social workers. Tell your friend you saw this. Say it a hundred times. If she's dealing with social workers (revacha), she has to be polite, honest, respectful and mature to the best of her earthly ability. If you can, come with to all those wonderful plow-through-your-soul bureaucracy places with her. If not, ask how it was. Be there. No woman should ever have to receive the get without a close friend by her side.
1. In the beginning the feelings are overwhelming. Grief (for it is a loss, after all. Research shows that the only life event more traumatic than divorce is death of a family member), anger, denial. The feeling is that of an earthquake - the ground under your feet turning into liquid. "It's not really happening to me, it cannot be, this is a film, and I'm about to wake up." You're sinking, and the light at the end of the tunnel is very dim, if it's there at all. At times such as this, most people prefer to be left alone. I'd say, if you're not a best friend, or close to it, stay away. Send her a few kind words, and offer of help, so that she'll know that you are thinking of her. Believe you me, she'll remember every person who did so, and also every person who remained silent. "So sorry to hear" is enough and works wonders. If you are a best friend, you'll know exactly what to do. Hold her hand, hug her, make her a cup of tea - and most importantly, let her talk. Let her cry, rant and curse him and her life. Because if she doesn't do it now, the bottled up resentment will poison her life for years to come. You don't have to join in with the hatred or argue, it's enough to listen. Don't tell her that everything will be fine and that God loves her. Because she doesn't know that now. Tell her she's strong enough to handle it. That's what my friends did for me, and it helped so much. He left on a Friday, while I was baking challa. I went to see my friend, and I said to her, I don't know how will I make Kiddush. It's just so weird. (Such a little thing, I know. But when you're in that state, everything is just huge). She said, what's the problem? You know how to make Kiddush, no? You can do it. I am still repeating those words to myself, in every difficult situation. You can do it. Every divorced woman is the little engine that could.
2. Curiosity is hurtful. Pity is worse. Some people the whole world to know what happened, and some prefer to hide the story. If she wants to keep it private, respect that. If you want juicy stories, put your TV on.
3. Don't judge. Everybody tries to be a good enough wife. If she wasn't, and exactly where she "failed" is her lesson in life to learn, not yours. Don't preach from the safety of your own marriage. Don't look for faults. There is a special black angel designated for that role. You don't want to try on the cloak of the Prosecutor.
4. Don't bring God into it. You don't know what God intended for her, and you shouldn't pretend to. If you're not close enough to be comfortable to ask her when she last had her period, stay out of her conscience just as you stay out of her underwear. If she wants to talk God, she will, with you or with her local Halacha authority.
5. If she is experiencing financial difficulties, don't offer loans. Because how on Earth will she pay them back? It only adds to the burden. The best thing would be to help her find organizations that could help, that way she won't feel indebted to you personally. If you give money, do it anonymously.
6. Some people like to be invited, and some don't. It's not personal. It's just that I can't see a "normal" home when I know my children will never have one. I don't want to see a loving and caring daddy when my kids don't have one. I don't want to see the husband and wife exchanging those private glances, so full of meaning that only they can decipher. It's just too awkward. I don't want to be the poor relative, invited out of pity. Eventually, I managed to overcome that, but still, I prefer to stay at home. No, it's not lonely. When the kids are little, it's another matter. But we are a family in our own right. We have our own family dynamics, inside jokes, memories, habits and things we do together. In my case Shabbat is a time for dictionary and geography quizzes, reading history books at the table, discussing politics, religion, and tossing a ball from one to another, while laughing our heads off. My kids are my most important guests (a quote from R. Twersky), and that hasn't changed just because he's gone. All the important people are still here.
7. For me, the hardest thing about being divorced is living in a frozen vacuum. Walking the emotional desert. It's you and yourself and some more you. Imagined? If you are a huggy person, give your friend a hug. It also works wonders.
8. Another hardest thing is bearing the responsibility for everyone and everything entirely on my own. If I forget to do something, it won't get done. I have to remember school books, bills, appointments, picking up times, shopping, etc, etc, and chances are, my list is twice as long as yours. If I bitch out at you, it's because a little voice in my head is singing "Dr. Cohen today and buy potatoes" - times 100. Don't take it personally. Some people like to have help with kids, some can't manage without it, and some refuse it altogether. Ask her what she prefers. In general - just ask.
9. The times when it's hardest are the evenings, motzaei shabbat and when the kids are by him. In the evening I can stand on my porch and watch all the husbands walking or driving home. I can imagine the "how was your day" and "have some soup", and "I saw this and bought it for you". If I do that, I'll get very depressed indeed. And after the kids are in bed, there is the silence. The time that was meant to be spent with your significant other. If you really want to help your friend, send her an SMS with "good night". Call her in the evening. It's the small things that are really so huge.
10. And lastly, to all the people who pretend they didn't see you, because they don't know what to say. This is the worst thing anyone can do. I didn't suddenly sprout hooves and a tail just because I'm bringing up my kids alone. I don't expect you to jump up and be a superman and solve all my problems. When I need a shoulder to cry on, it will be my closest friends, and not just random people. But do say hello, for goodness sake. I'm not contagious. Yes, there are good times and bad times, and one day, the tables might turn. So, say hello.
In a nutshell - if not for my friends, I wouldn't be here today. So, I just hope and pray that every divorced woman will be lucky enough to have friends like that, and it's very encouraging that people care. Shana tova.
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