As told to Elisheva Appel
O
n the outside, my childhood seemed idyllic. My parents are distinguished members of our chassidic community, and as the oldest girl in a large family, I was capable, geshikt, and helpful.
Beneath the surface, though, I hid a chronic health problem. While we never discussed it openly, I understood that in the prevalent culture, my illness needed to be kept under wraps, lest others think less of our family.
If my condition wasn’t shameful enough, I endured years of abuse at the hands of a frequent visitor to our home, cementing my belief that there was something wrong with me. I knew I wasn’t good enough, and that if people got to know the real me, they’d never accept me.
Though an outgoing person by nature, my grim life circumstances stifled my personality, and I was very reserved as a teen. Only during the later years of high school did I begin to come out of my shell, slowly exercising my natural leadership abilities, and becoming a sounding board for people to spill out their worries to. Ironically, despite my secret brokenness, I became the person who took care of everyone else.
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