Sometimes I wonder how bad to things have to get before they get better? How much pain does one have to feel before he begins to think? I was so blind, so hidden in such a deep pit from my deepest most natural self that I was able to delude myself for so long despite the pain I was feeling. I was always into self improvement and introspection so the pain did call my attention to something that was happening within me but most of the time my inquiries gave me nothing that would come close to exploring the real problem. I once spoke to an old friend of my fathers living in Har Nof. He had a sense of peoples struggles. He was a calm man. He was a good man. I was suffering so much. I was in so much pain but I could barely put words to it. I don't remember much of our interaction but he told me something that was, at the time, pretty disheartening. I must have expressed the hopelessness of my situation and he must have said "It may take ten years, but eventually, if you keep at it, you will have a good day". I needed a solution much faster than that, I didn't have ten years to wait. In reality, that's about how long it has taken to begin feeling a semblance of joy, heart and presence to life.

I remember taking my Rebbe's advice. He told me to go to a moshav and take a break. I didn't know anyone. I found a ride. I stayed at someones home for a day. Then I found myself in trailer. I got a huge spider bit. This was s weird situation. I remember the rooster crowing at dawn. That was nice. There were some nice feelings but I was quite far away from doing what I needed to do to get better. I was in too good of shape to turn around. I had my mind fixed on an idea and I want' going to let go. I knew that my success depended on the impression I could make. I knew that the impression had to do with the amount of learning I knew. I had to keep on learning, I couldn't let my friends get ahead. While I was up at the moshav, they were flying ahead. I couldn't let that happen so while I was at the Moshav, I studied mishnayos Yevamos.(A fairly difficult massechta) I remember thinking, "I just can't stop, this is no break, what am I doing to myself, why can't I stop?' I felt the chaos and the whirlwind. I felt out of control. I didn't know anything else so it felt as normal as anything had been but if there is any mechanism in the body that tells us when things are out of whack, that mechanism had sixty alarms ringing in my ears, but of course I wouldn't stop. I knew that these alarms and warnings were all the hidious acts of the yetzer hara (evil inclination) trying to stop me from learning. Better yet, sometimes I even felt that somehow what I was doing was wrong but I didn't know of anything else do do and I was surely too afraid to stop. I was making headway, all was going as planned and I was going to continue pressing on because the gold, I knew, was up ahead, whether it would be in this world or the next, Torah was the source of all life and if I just kept at it, everything would be alright.

I hate this life. I hate this life. That's all I could say to myself. No chas vshalom, i didn't even let those words enter my mind and i don't remember thinking them, I just felt it with all my heart and with all my soul. Even if and when I thought them, I surely wouldn't admit to myself or to anyone that that was truly the case. I smiled all the time. I was always besimcha. Only a man who has known deep pain and had admitted to himself his pain would have been able to recognize that I was barely part of the living. I had a beautiful smile and it was always painted on my face. My cheek muscles hurt, no, not from strain but from lying. How long will this lie last. Sometimes I wished someone would come over to me and hug me. I saw some kind people, I wished they would have walked over and seen my pain and said, 'tell me, what's going on?'. In a way, I hoped they'd never come. What would I say? How could I answer that question? I didn't really know what was going on but the ache was so great that there had to be something going on. I remember one day in the midst of a distressing time, I started crying to my Rebbe. I wanted Ahavas Hashem. I felt that my Rebbe was on a very high level of purity, clarity and love of God. I wanted that. I wanted him to tell me the secret. He probably realized that there was something wrong with me but perhaps not aware enough to know the kind of help I needed. I needed peace. I didn't need the love of God, I needed love. I needed safety. I needed to feel that things were going to be ok but since things were never ok, I didn't know that I was in pain. I didn't know that anything was wrong so I didn't look or ask for help. I remember once sitting next to a kind older yeshiva bachur. Oh, I was aching so much, I must have hinted to him that something was wrong. because I didn't know what, I didn't put words to it and because he heard no words, he didn't know. I remember feeling 'fuck (of course it wasn't that word because at that time, I didn't know that word well enough to think it) I just lost my chance). I felt like I had just gotten as close as I was ever going to get to telling anyone of my pain. Somehow, I knew I had to and that it would have to happen and that I would try my hardest to stop it from happening but that it was so important that it happen.

I found the perfect place to hide. Inside, in between the lines of the gemara, in the mind of the gemara, I could hide. This was the perfect place. No one could possible suspect that I was hurting inside. No one would think that I am getting away with murder. What could possibly be wrong with learning gemara. Not only that, every step of the way I would be getting closer to god and boy would that be good. I needed god. I felt so sad and so scared all the time that I needed a god to be close. More than that. I needed to feel like I was close to god. I had my doubts. No, of course I wouldn't tell anyone. I probably didn't admit it to myself either. No, god forbid, I shouldn't even think about it. Of course I had not doubt, I just had a problem. I couldn't get my mind to stay still. I couldn't get it to believe. I had all these questions. How could I know that this book was written by god? I would give myself fully to it, if only I could be convinced that it was authentic. Oh, it seemed like such a burdensome task that would never end. No of course I couldn't let anyone know how much this was tormenting me. I couldn't shake this already fragile boat. I Knew that I already has suspicious eyes on me. What would they do if they found out I had questions. I was going to keep everything neat and tidy. Cool, collected impression. they would know me as a standard, superb, and obedient yeshiva boy. No questions asked. So the questions simmered. It was so counter productive because the questions seemed to invite exploration and curiosity but I was not looking to open doors, I was not looking to wanter or question. All I wanted to do, was shut down my mind. I need to get these questions to stop. 'Can't you see?' I would shout silently to my mind,'you are destroying me!!" because of you, they will find out who I am and I will be ruined. I knew that if anyone found out that I had questions, i would be labeled as a heretic. Sure that's all I needed, people to see me as the one who asks questions about Emunah. No way! I wouldn't have it. I promised myself that I would be keeping all my questions and ideas to myself. I figured, as long as I keep my mouth shut, all will be all right. How would anyone find out, if I kept it all to myself? But there was one thing I forgot, or at least didn't admit it's importance to myself. How would I live? How could I live with all these unanswered questions burning inside. How could I face myself when I wasn't willing to admit to my most ardent desires. Yes, of course, I did feel the pain of this inauthenticity, but without having prior experience in self honesty, I figured, this must be the cost of success. This is just the way it is. No of course I couldn't have believed that fully. I like the truth, and the truth ate at my insides. Day and night it ate at my soul, it destroyed my heart and any morals I thought I had. How can anything in life have value, if I'm not willing to be honest about what I'm feeling. Although I refused to admit it, I had not feeling for what I was doing. I knew that my life must end. I had no idea how and I had no idea when, but I felt that as long as I wasn't being honest, nothing was going to be worthwhile and it went without saying that I wouldn't be honest. I simply couldn't afford to. How could I open my mouth when I had no idea what would come out? Somehow, I had a suspicion that there were many secrets inside that I was hiding that I had forgotten and that once I would open my mouth, they would have no choice but to pour forth. Oh, so much anger, so much hate, so much fear, oh, where would I put it all. Who would listen? What would happen if they did? I had to keep it inside. I felt evil. I knew there was a sad, unwanted boy inside me. I felt him. I knew him. He had been with me for so long. We had spent so much time together. I knew how sad he was but I didn't know what to do with him. I Knew he wanted to play but I knew I couldn't let him. I knew he wouldn't go away but I figured that as long as I didn't say anything, he'll be quiet. Maybe he'll even go to sleep. Oh, I hoped so much that he wouldn't wake. He was like a lion tearing through the insides of my chest. He was like a tiger gnawing away mercilessly at all the facods I had put up. He wasn't going to sleep. He would wander into my head during learning times. He made me miserable. I wondered how unfortunate I could possibly be to have this kind of voice follow me around. All my other friends could just learn and move on. Not me. I had a war going on in my head. Why did things have to be so difficult for me? Why couldn't things be simple like they had been for so many of my friends?

I couldn't imagine how this could happen to me. It had been my life's aspiration to be a Rosh Yeshiva, to be a tzadik. I had been doing everything right. I kept halacha, I davened well. I learned well. I always thought it was odd when I'd see boys who had gone off the derech. I felt good. I knew it would never happen to me. I had the right way and I was happy. How can all this happen without my being willing? This seems to be the worst curse imaginable. I must leave my people. I must leave all that has been dear to me. It hurts too much. I don't know how this happened but I must go. My shoulders were pinching and their pain was only symptomatic of the intense pressure I had been putting myself under. I just had to learn as much as I could. Yes of course I enjoyed it. Enjoyed what? It was exciting. It was a challenge. With each piece of gemara that I mastered I imagined that when asked about it, I shall not be confused, I shall immediately answer and will thereby be lifted up in the eyes of the asker. Yes I had a very bad self image. I needed to learn so badly. Yes of course I enjoyed it too but because I needed it, I couldn't enjoy it as much as I wanted to. I was in a rush. I had to get as much of this into my head as I could. What would my father in law say? I needed to make sure that when the time came for a shidduch, it would be smooth. I needed sex and I needed it yesterday. I couldn't afford the possibility that my future in laws would give any thought as to whether they wanted me in their family or not. "Look at his midos" they would say. " He's such a masmid". The deal is done. No I can't say that I gave much thought as to whether they were good people or not, what I would do for a living. Wait! But that's a lie. I gave it plenty of thought. I was quite worried about how I would make money. How would I support my family. It got me so nervous that I tried not to think about it. Instead I tried to build my faith in God that things would go well. Of course it felt odd. I was building my faith but I was so afraid to do anything. Something in me told me that I am just too afraid. I didn't know anything was wrong because I had always been afraid. I didn't remember knowing anything else but since as I got older, there were increasingly larger and more important opportunities that I beckoned my participation, I became sadder and angrier as I said no to each one. No, I just didn't know why I couldn't do it. I didn't know why I could play, I didn't know why I couldn't participate in sports, I didn't know why I was too embarrassed to lead the davening, but I did know that couldn't. I knew that i had made a solemn and irrevocable promise not to ever do anything in the public eye. Unfortunately, this promise would not stay still. It just didn't let me sleep, it didn't let me live, it wanted to kill me. My heart begged itself to revoke this promise. I want to play. I so badly want to play. I don't know why I can't but I still want to. I wish could learn. Everyone seems to be having so much fun. I also want to have fun. Why can't I?
I watched my friends lead the davening. I felt my heart surge. I want to lead too. I knew that I had a good voice. I knew that I loved music. I love to sing. Why can't I lead? I'll never forget that one of my best friends Shlomo, who could barely carry a tune, let the davening on Rosh Chodesh. I was so jealous. How can he do that and feel so comfortable with himself and I am better but can't bring myself to do it. I realized with his davening that was in serious trouble. Something was the matter with me. How will I ever be me if I can't bring myself to do the things I love to do. What will it take? How will it happen? I couldnt' forsee anything happening that would bring change to the current situation. It was almost as if I knew that I was the one who would have to repeal the promise. I would have to risk. I would have to act and since there was no way in hell that I would, I was stuck. I knew I was doomed. For years, I hoped that someone would see my pain and force me to lead davening or play so that I would not have to feel that it was me. If it was me that I had a lot at stake. Any mistake would point to me. There was nowhere else to look. I couldn't afford to have people look at me. Those days were over. I had been looked at way too many times. Those days were gone. I would need to find a life where I wan't looked at, so I kept looking for a place where I could hide and all would be ok.