"Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil: for thou are with me; thy rod and thy staff comfort me" (Psalms, 23)
Everyone who knows me describes me as a happy, funny person, who is always taking care to insure that those who surround her are happy, and who tends to focus on what is good and beautiful. However, those who really know me, realize that this joy had developed from my challenges and hardships, and it is a conscious choice!
When I was three months old, my father was killed while fighting at the War of Attrition and my thirty-four-year-old mother was left with three children – my older brothers and I. I was born into the reality of bereavement: National memorial days, group Bat-Mitzva to the IDF orphans, and more and more memories of bereavement and orphanhood. Throughout my whole life, a feeling exists within me, that although I was merely three month old when my father was killed, I had experienced, even at that young age, a very strong feeling of abandonment and loss. My mother has always told me how for whole days after my father had been killed, I would cry for a great deal of long hours. When I was two years old, my mother had remarried, to a man who was a Holocaust survivor, who had widowed. He had brought into our new family his daughter. The two families were connected into one family, and in all of the hardships and opposition to this connection, the bereavement had remained isolated and unspoken. Furthermore, being the youngest daughter, I had taken upon myself the role of the funny and amusing member of the family, who is always happy. I had taken care to insure that everyone will always be happy and that the family shall remain complete. Of course, due to this role that I had taken upon myself, I was spoiled and all of my family members were fond of me. I recall my childhood as a pleasant and enjoyable period of time.
When I had finished my army services and my undergraduate studies, I married Tzahi, my beloved husband. Equipped with a mutual dream to create a complete and happy family, we set out to conquer the world. At age 26, it had seemed that our dream was coming true. After a normal pregnancy and birth, our sweet boy Guy was born. Several hours after the birth, Guy had suffered from breathing distress and was transferred to the Newborn Intensive Care Department. Several nerve-racking weeks had gone by, during which we had wandered between hope and falling apart, until it had turned out that Guy is suffering from a rare lung deficiency and that he will not be able to live. At age five weeks, Guy had passed away in the hospital. The reality had crushed just like a sweet dream which was erased in a cruel manner, in a moment of sudden awakening. As a young mother to a first child, I had re-experienced the loss, and this time, at an intensity that I could have never imagined.
During the initial period after Guy's death, I had completely detached myself from my surrounding environment. Most of the people who were a part of that environment had pressured me to immediately get pregnant and to stop the grieving as quickly as possible. Externally, I had played the game and it had appeared that my life had returned to their normal course. I was working, travelling, and fully functioning. However, the gap which had poured open in my womb and soul was great and I had had a hard time finding comfort. I turned to therapy, which had assisted me in processing the loss and finding the happiness and liveliness which are so characteristic of me. When I had finished the treatment, Shir, my firstborn child, was born – she was a true gift, which had provided me with the right to experience a whole and empowering motherhood. Three years later, my son I do was born, and three years after him, Romi, my third daughter was born. An hour after her birth, the doctor had notified us that Romi had entered breathing distress and was exhibiting symptoms which are surprisingly similar to those which had been exhibited by Guy. This time, the shock was unbearable, after years of therapy, processing of the loss, and regaining the trust and strength to live, I had felt that the ground falling apart beneath my legs. I had found myself experiencing a strong feeling of dejavu, except that this time, I was the mother of two children, who were also experiencing the crisis, alongside my husband and myself. We were very happy and relieved when, after five horrible days, during which feelings of hope and grief were intertwined, Romi had begun to breathe on her own. Two weeks later, we were discharged from the hospital, healthy and overjoyed.
Romi had provided me a second chance to stare at the loss in the face, to touch it, and to recreate a renewed discourse. Life had continued as usual, I had experimented in various processes which were designed to assist the processing of wounds and hardships, and had learned various techniques for self-healing. Amongst these techniques, I had gotten acquainted with the theta-healing, which to this day assists my family and me in carrying out meaningful and significant processes of healing and fulfillment. At the same time, I had discovered the power which is implanted within the group. During the last couple of years, I had gone several important experiences during which I was a part of a group which had served as a meaningful and important place in my life. Every group in which I had participated had provided me with new insights about myself, my relationships, my strengths and hardships. Each one of these groups had served as a further step in my journey towards a full and joyful life.
In the course of my life journey, I had walked through the valley of the shadow of death, experienced chasms and black holes; had made an effort to understand the lessons which had accompanied every hardship, and had chosen, each and every new day, to be happy, strengthened and actively present. Today I thank for all that I had had and that I have and for all that life has brought around my way. Undoubtedly, I also bear with me the vacuum, but I also carry with me so much of the being within me!
This is the story of my life, which is presented to you with love.I invite you to join me to a journey, one-on-one or in a group. I will be able to allow you to observe, learn, change, and choose to live out of presence and happiness.