I didn’t want Yom Kippur to end. I was 21, newly engaged, and come Ne’ilah I felt that my inner work was not quite done. I needed to continue pleading, I needed time before the shofar blew and the year ahead was sealed. Just a few weeks later, as I walked to the chuppah, I felt a certain thickness in the air, like I was wading through a sea of emotions. What did it mean?
I was just a regular girl. I never wanted the best the greatest spitz. Nor did I expect married life to be perfect. While we were datingDaniel told me that at one point he felt very down in yeshivah and I thought: Ah he had a sprinkle of depression. Well what of it? Most teens go through a difficult period at some time.
Right after the wedding though it was clear that Danielwas not okay. Was it the demands of marriage? The life changes? Fear? I didn’t know but I knew that I would take care of him. I’m a gentle person emotionally even-keeled and I’d support him through whatever it was. We moved to Lakewood a couple of weeks after the wedding — although far from our native South Africa Daniel had learned there at one particularly productive phase as a bochur and he’d always planned to return. I thoughtDaniel would be pleased — he had pushed hard that we make the move so quickly. But far away from home Daniel’s behavior quickly spiraled out of control. Medication therapy — these were tiny ineffectual Band-Aids against a huge problem. It was obviousDaniel was seriously ill.
I tried. I tried so hard to lead a semblance of a normal life. I had a job lined up and I was there on time every day. I cooked supper. Cleaned the house. I should have been on top of the world — newly married fresh life. But my neighbor commented that I looked as if the entire world rested on my shoulders.
I was in touch with our family rav all the time and he even took the trouble to visit us when he was in the States a month later. He saw that the situation was unworkable. “You’ll probably have to get divorced” he said.
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