Breathe...Breathe...

As a fairly transparent person, I 'trust' the readers of this blog with most of the details of our lives and with my feelings, and yet there are events and feelings that I do not share;  mostly because it is something that I myself cannot process.

If I were to summarize the last three weeks of my life, I would say that I have pushed beyond my own comfort zone, opened myself up to possibilities and felt extremely vulnerable...and have gotten bitten on the ass more times that I can count.  My personality and commitment preclude me performing a task or behaving only half-way, and so I put myself at greater emotional and physical risk.

Oh, I play a good game of acting like all is fine and dandy, that beyond the little things that characterize day-to-day with a toddler I function, most of the times happily.  But being a parent is hard, don't let anyone tell you otherwise, and a single mother with no family support system in the country is even harder. Some days are better, and some periods of time try the very core of my being. 

If I were being honest with myself, I would venture a guess that having immediate family in the country would not be as helpful as I might imagine, and about which I fantasize on a regular basis. 

A highly intelligent and independent business woman, an experienced and trained doctor falling victim to the failing global economic crisis, even harder, especially since I am the sole provider and wage earner in this house.

(Our new Finance Minister, the handsome and yet vacant-headed Yair Lapid, ran on a platform of easing the existence of the poor and the middle class in Israel. Meanwhile, one of his first acts include raising VAT, a move which will directly and most negatively impact the poor and middle class in Israel.  I will either have to raise my prices and lose clients, or keep the status quo office fees and pay more for everything else, leaving even less income in my pocket.)

My body image has also suffered a blow, with the recent break-up from my boyfriend and because quite simply, my abdominal area is hardly swimsuit ready.  So I could join a gym and start running and swimming again, but my concerns about our finances makes me feel like this membership represents a luxury, a privilege I cannot afford.  With a lack of reliable baby sitters, I would only be able to work out during the day when Raphaela attends Gan, and thus I would not enjoy myself and relax into the workout, because I would be thinking about the patients I am not seeing and the money I am not earning at that time in the gym.  To quote my sixth grade teacher from New York, "It's a vicious cycle." (Actually, if memory serves me correctly, my teacher was talking about head lice, but no matter.)

Then, last night, at the Bar Mitzvah of the son of a old and dear friend, Raphaela spent the first hour of the event making it difficult for me to carry on any uninterrupted adult conversation.  When she saw that we would not be leaving for home when she requested, during the beginning of the dancing, she spent five minutes throwing up on the floor, a stream of tomatoes and other appetizers she had eaten.  I think it even surprised her, the strength of will she employed to bring on the vomiting;  she said to me in wonder and amazement, "Mommy, a waterfall of tomatoes just came out of my mouth, how does that happen?"

Mission accomplished, Raphaela won, we left the Bar Mitzvah quickly, slipping out the side door because of my embarrassment and shame, with me feeling like I cannot hold it together as a mother or as a woman.

I am tired of the struggle.  I wish I had the luxury to choose something different, I wish I didn't feel so stuck and so frustrated, like such a failure.