Monday morning, Fresh out of the Shelter
Existential Thoughts in an Existential Battle for Survival
(All-country alert, Monday morning 23/6/25)
It occurred to me this morning, having nothing else on the agenda for today, to re-read the diary I kept during Coronavirus, you know, to make myself feel better. Who would’ve thought that it would make me feel like we are in fact living in the Matrix, and they keep tweaking our virtual reality program every five years or so.
Corona vs Israel-Iran War
Restrictions of gathering in large groups: Yes and Yes
Cancellation of Educational Activities: Yes and Yes
Closure of Ben Gurion Airport: Yes and Yes
Religious Fervor and Expectations of the “End of Days”: Yes and Yes
President Trump in the Oval Office: Yes (#45) and Yes (#47)
Patients afraid to leave the house: Yes and Yes
Political machinations in the Knesset: Yes and Yes
OCD regarding masks and Alcogel: Yes and…No
28/3/20 (Week Three, Corona)
This Shabbat I realized that this new routine is starting to break me: we don’t leave the house, I have no work scheduled, so I have lost my sense of purpose. The existential crisis centers around the fact that I no longer remember what it feels like to have a schedule and a sense of accomplishment or fulfillment at the end of the day. Other than the fact that I am an essential caretaker for my child, I don’t have another sane adult in our space to deflect this tension, or with whom to have an intelligent high-level conversation.
I seem to spend my whole day washing dishes, doing laundry that Raphaela creates by the minute, then either buying food or cooking food. It’s a Feminist nightmare. I do understand the importance of self-quarantine, and yet realistically, this virus and the shadow it has cast will be around for a long time.
>> Indeed, every morning I wake up and shower, look at my beautiful full work schedule, and within the hour, my schedule has been cleared, due to people not wanting to risk being in their car or outside when a siren sounds. I don’t blame them, and do not take it personally, but frankly I relate to the feeling of being aimless, not contributing to society, and here’s the key, not making a living.
5/4/20 (Corona)
Late last night I received a most wondrous and thrilling email, unfortunately I have not been sleeping well because of nightmares. The police, in conjunction with the Ministry of Health, put out a whole report and guide as to the Coronavirus, and how to handle violations of the new restrictions. Under the clause of “essential” medical services, Chiropractic was officially included in the list, along with dentists, nurses, surgeons, podiatrists, therapists and nutritionists. Interestingly, Acupuncture was deemed “complimentary” or “alternative” medicine and therefore forbidden; I do not agree with that categorization.
My heart jumped with joy, because I felt like it returned some of my life purpose and my usefulness to society. Because we are considered medicine and not “complementary treatments,” finally. Because now I have no need for guilt when I see patients, and in fact, I can tell patients that they are welcome back, no law-breaking required.
Whether patients will return is not something I can control, as so many are still afraid to leave their houses, and afraid to pay for anything that feels “extra” when the economy is in a shutdown.
This morning when I told Raphaela the news she was happy as well, saying, “Yay, now you can make money again!” Which is almost beside the point, but yes, now I am allowed to earn a living again, and not fear getting arrested or fined. It also makes me aware that Raphaela knows I struggle with the idea of not working, of not making money, though I don’t think she is aware of the deep angst it causes me.
>> My daughter has a high emotional quotient, in the sense that she is quite self-aware and sensitive to the energy of her surroundings. I don’t discuss the details of our finances with her, but she can see that I am concerned, and at least several times a day comes over, rubs my shoulder and gives me a hug, and says, “Don’t worry Mommy, God will always provide what we need.”
It breaks my heart that she carries this stress.
Today in the shelter, Raphaela suggested that I take my Chiropractic table down there – an idea the neighbors readily embraced and lined up for treatment – and offer care to the body in soul within the protected space. It’s not a terrible idea.
26/4/20 (RIP Harry “The Highlander”)
Harry was quiet for the most part on the way there, except for when I got kind of lost trying to get to the veterinary office, around blocked off streets and construction. He made this sound that was almost mocking laughter, like “Sooo, you forgot how to drive, did you?” But his presence was relaxed and comfortable, like an old friend.
When we got to the clinic, the veterinarian examined him and said that Harry had been suffering horribly for some time now, every time he ate, because he had an Oro-anal Fistula. Which, having looked it up, meant that he had a hole between his jaw, his nose and his brain; and that every time he ate, his food went up his nose instead of down his throat. The doctor said that it could in theory be corrected with surgery but (A) it would be complicated and expensive and (B) Harry could very well die under the anesthesia anyway, before the surgery even began.
I hate that Harry was suffering, and I am amazed that he was hurting all this time, and his essential personality never really changed. Except when you tried to wipe his nose.
Harry was 19 years old, he had led a good life surrounded by love, and I just didn’t see the point in surgery. I decided to go ahead with the euthanasia, as long as I had the chance to see Harry before the injection, to have a chance to say goodbye. With the Goddamn Coronavirus, everyone was masked up and assiduously keeping the two meters, but he let me, if only for a moment. 16:25. After Harry’s soul was gone, his body looked so small, and thin, and empty.
Sadly and ironically, it was one of the most beautiful Spring days so by far.
6/5/20 (Corona)
The most exciting news is the arrival/rescue of Fleur “Fluerken” Heart Danzig Leeder, a two month old kitten who is the size of a three week old. She is a calico cat, malnourished but extremely affection – she has given us licks- and purrs like a Harley Davidson motorcycle when we come close to her. Raphaela has taken to calling her “Flurry,” and plays hide-and-go-seek, “1-2-3 Flurry, where are you?” There is much joy in the house, more than there has been in a while, since this whole Corona madness began.
She is named Fluerken after the Marvel Comics icon, the vicious alien race that appears to be, on Earth to humans, as a sweet housecat. She’s in the house two hours and she has already walked on the keyboard and locked me out of the computer. This is going to be fun. I had Harry for so long that I forgot how energetic and curious kittens could be.
I love that we also went nostalgic, as Harry’s mother was a calico. But seeing a new kitten romping around the house made me feel exactly how much Harry is gone, and missed.
>> Our PTSD cat Fluerken has become our signal for the seriousness of a missile attack and a welcome companion, but sadly our goldfish have not fared as well. We have only one fish left, who does not play well with others, and we have had several ceremonies of sending our fish to the great fishbowl in the sky.
17/7/20 ( Corona, One Week before my birthday)
Remember when I mused that it would be just like my birthday to be in full-country quarantine? Well, apparently my manifesting skills are still quite potent, because the government is now debating quarantine (to some extent) starting this coming week. Which will involve shutting down all camp and school programs even for the younger children, closing beaches and restaurants, and limiting the act of congregation even further. Honestly, closing beaches makes much less sense than shutting down minyanim and events. Inside vs. Outside.
On the other hand, if they are closing down beaches over the weekends, good thing we are not going away to the beach for the weekend.
I cannot happily apply the Law of Relative Suffering, and say, “Yup, this birthday is going to suck, but at least I am alive!” I am always just trying to stay ahead of the demands put upon me, it would be so nice to feel pampered and relaxed, free of responsibility, and important, to someone. First World problems? Maybe. I don’t feel guilty about that.
>> I don’t even want to touch this one. There is a phrase in Hebrew, “Don’t tempt the Devil” [אל תפתח פה לשטן] and as of today, we do have a beach-birthday weekend scheduled for July. I keep hoping and praying that by then we are all at least in a slightly better place, that will allow Raphaela and me to have the brief and yet essential break that we need.
As far as the Law of Relative Suffering, it goes like this: When I was a child and told to clean my plate because “children were starving in Africa,” I quickly offered to pack up the Brussel sprouts and ship them to Africa. On a soul level, I believe that each of us gets the challenges in life tailored to our individual needs and experiences. If life on Earth is school, we each have our own itinerary and syllabus, which intersects with others in our soul-class to enhance the experience.
We come back as many times as we need, to refine our soul, and then we come back on a volunteer basis, to help others.
Yes, I know that soldiers are dying in Aza, the Iranian missiles have made thousands homeless and thousands more wounded, 50 hostages are rotting away in the Hamas terror tunnel, we have no idea if we can really trust our leadership to do what is best for the country. I pray on that every day. In that sense, my anxiety and worries are minimal to none, at least I can say that I am alive and I woke up this morning with my daughter in the next room.
However, my little Universe IS myself, my daughter and our cat. I made a choice to bring Raphaela into the world, and it is my responsibility to make sure that she has what she needs, emotionally and physically, now and in the future, may our futures be long and healthy. So you will excuse me if I don’t apologize for having trouble sleeping at night, plagued by the “What Ifs.”
And now, onto the missile alerts of the last 12 hours.
Monday 23/6/25, 3:02 AM, down to the shelter. Very little talking because it’s three in the morning and we’re walking zombies.
Monday 23/6/25 10:29 AM, down to the shelter with a harder than average barrage of missiles. I felt like we bonded more than usual as a group, turning the record 45 minutes into a group therapy of sorts, telling each other about our families and our past, sharing and connecting. I am grateful for the opportunity to be social and surrounded by others, no matter how perverse the reason.
Then – excuse the pun – the bombshell from the neighbor who lives right above me. She started out like this, “I don’t know if I should say anything to you, but…”
I looked at her confused and concerned. She continued, “On Friday, I noticed that my toilet was leaking, and I thought to myself, ‘Oh no! Not this again!’”
My heart dropped into my stomach and I almost fainted on the spot. When we moved into this apartment two years ago, there were significant issues with the water system, like waterfalls coming from the neighbor, randomly chosen plumbers digging up half the house to find a solution, and paint peeling dramatically on the Northern side of the apartment. For the first week that we lived in this apartment, we could not use the toilet, take a shower, or do anything in the kitchen. After the first week, we could take a shower but we didn’t have any hot water.
It took close to six months and many different plumbers giving their advice and opinions before it was resolved, and yet, there are still moments when something goes wrong in a faucet or the bathtub, and I think to myself, “OMG, this apartment is cursed.”
Then Raphaela and I sage the entire place until we believe we have exorcised the spirit of Poseidon.
Thus, when the neighbor started talking about water leaks, Raphaela jumped out of her plastic chair with a look of utter panic on her face. I froze in fear, and became calm only after she finished her story and explained that it was nothing, that just in case she had put towels everywhere in the room, and that it wasn’t leaking anymore, as far as she knows.
Because that’s all I need in the middle of two wars.
At this point in time, I would actually like to express my gratitude to the war/Iran, because it has brought about renewed contact and communication with so many friends both in Israel and abroad, and reminded me of the value of the people in my life who add to my existence and make it so much better. I love you all.
Stay safe.