I love sitting at the Miami Beach coastal line. The harsher the weather the more likely you’ll find me there. The waves rise high and come crashing down to the shore. Over and over, higher and higher, just like the pounding of my own heart. My life is a storm. The more I feel the waves on the outside the less I feel them on the inside.

That crush and bang of overpowering magnitude is just what I need to still the explosive tremors of my soul. The past five years have been sheer torture. What began as a life full of hopes and dreams and a better future has become a volcano size nightmare.

……

Like my nineteen-year-old counterparts, once I completed Seminary I looked forward to finding my bashert. One thing I knew for sure was that I wanted a quiet young man. My older sister had married a loud person and I knew I did not want the tension that the high drama created.

When the Shadchan called to recommend Moish Nadler from the Upper West Side and learning in the Mir, the specifics sounded really good. My parents asked around a bit and other than hearing that Moish was on the quiet side it all seemed wonderful. Especially to me.

Marriage was fun early on as we both had our busy schedules. We were both still in school and trying to earn some income on the side. Our parents were generous and helped us with our expenses so we could do so. During this time I had four beautiful children that I loved beyond anything in the world. Nothing could keep me from spending time with them. Miri my oldest daughter had gorgeous golden curls and a soft gentle nature. Cipi was our dark one, full of life and fearless. She always astounded us with her courage. My two sons, Yossi and Pini, were young yet, but true bundles of joy.

After we both finished our schooling, I secured an excellent position with a local firm. The salary and benefits were way beyond anything I ever dreamt for a first job. Moish on the other hand, struggled to settle into any field. He took odd jobs here and there and

sometimes he didn’t work at all. His main interests were reading the paper and watching sports on TV. It was okay if he wasn’t the breadwinner. I just wanted him to find something to do where he felt productive. No coaching or encouraging could move him though. The years went by and with Moish having little to share we gradually grew apart.

We tried therapists and mediators. I was willing to go to any length to save my marriage. My husband though tired of the efforts of therapy and to stay safe he spoke to me less and less.

The big draw came when I asked him to stay home with the kids as I wanted to visit my parents in Europe. They had been very considerate and I felt they deserved a little attention from me. I was asking him to stay with four children ages 4 to 10 for six days. We did have a housekeeper and he would only have to fill in during the evenings and early morning. I was not prepared for the wrath I would feel asking this favor. I never did go and things only got worse after that. It wasn’t long before we sat by our local rabbi and I cried as I received my get.

One thing I knew beyond a doubt was that Moish had no interest in the children. As I was mostly the sole breadwinner and had not spoken to him that much I did not expect to feel much of a difference. Thus, the first few years after the divorce I actually didn’t. He did not call or come by to see the kids. I would not hear from his family either.

Suddenly when the girls were older and my sons were teenagers, not only did my ex show up in the life of my children, but so did his family. They wanted to see the kids for weekends and to take them on vacations.

It did not occur to me to be wary as the children had grown up lovingly at my side and we were extremely close. Yet, as time moved on they kept insisting they wanted to go to Daddy and that Daddy gave them many goodies and took them on overnights. They said they had loads of fun by the other grandmother with all their cousins.

It wasn’t long before I started hearing that I was a terrible person and that I was the one that hurt them. Although they had everything a child could dream, bikes, scooters, summer camp and trips to Eretz Yisroel. They had beautiful furniture in their rooms and always had friends over. I am also by nature rather gentle and never harmed them.

I’m sure my divorce hurt them. It wasn’t something I wanted. I tried my hardest to build a home but I couldn’t do it all alone. It takes two. Maybe I should have tried harder. I am willing to concede that fear of overwhelming responsibility gripped me as I could foresee a life of dealing with a dysfunctional spouse. My children however are unforgiving and continue to hound me like I would be the enemy.

It has now been five years since I last saw them. I sit alone day and night, Shabbos and yom tov. My pain knows no bounds and I cannot find a grip to calm myself down. The love of my life is gone.

My family and friends have moved on too. What kind of mother they say would have her children walk away from her?

Where can I turn?

I have tried speaking to the Rebbes of my children’s communities. They are hard to reach and even more difficult to get their attention to my daily anguish. Sometimes they nod and show compassion. I need more.

In desperation I stood outside the Rebbe’s door for hours in the hope he will allow me to speak my thoughts. Yet all the Rebbe could do was offer to speak to the therapist my children were seeing to see if he could offer some input.

I started to have hope.

Then came the bang. The huge tsunami.

The Rebbe said he spoke to the therapist and now knows that I was truly an incompetent parent. He said he had proof but could not share and that I should speak to my children if I wanted additional information. He said he was sorry he could not help.

My children though refused to speak to me. I feel trapped.

My mind was in a whirlwind. How could this happen. What kind of tales were being spun about my true personality? I was a warm, loving and hardworking person. I loved my children and missed them terribly. They too would gain so much from all the love I would give them.

I now understood that their minds were kidnapped and all that I had sacrificed over a lifetime was lost.

How would I survive? Where could I place my pain? Who would understand?