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I was recently driving through the Hugh L. Carey Tunnel, AKA the Battery Tunnel, listening to a podcast on Emunah by Rabbi Efrem Goldberg (if you haven’t heard his shiurim, consider this my very enthusiastic recommendation), when he said something that made me want to stop driving and think about what he said. I didn’t, though, because stopping in the middle of the Battery Tunnel is the kind of idea that ends with loud honking and lots of angry drivers,

My seventeen-year-old came home from school last week and informed me, with the confidence only a teenager can manage, that there’s a difference between sympathy and empathy. “Did you know that, Ma?” Considering what I do for a living, I could have mentioned that I’d heard of it. Instead, I said, “Really? Tell me more,” because if there’s one thing I learned, it’s that the fastest way to end a connection with a teenager is to tell her you already

Nobody stands under the chuppah imagining they’ll one day wonder whether they’re ready to date again. You expect to build a life together, watch your children grow up under one roof, and complain about getting old together. You don’t imagine the marriage ending and leaving you with a question you never thought you’d have to ask:

Am I ready to do this again?

Most of us know what it’s like to get caught in bad weather while driving. You’re zipping down the highway, blasting music, having your own private concert, when it starts raining heavily, so you slow down. You turn on the wipers, leave more space between you and the car in front of you, and pay closer attention. You turn off the music because somehow that helps you see better. Driving takes more effort than it normally does, but you’re okay. You can still

I ended yesterday’s newsletter promising to report back on whether I ever fell asleep. Judging by my inbox, a lot of you were curious. I did get some sleep. I would have gotten more if not for the receptionist, but I’m getting ahead of myself. I did the sleep math again and set my alarm for 9:15. I had a procedure scheduled for 10:30, which seemed like enough time to shower, daven, and get to the appointment. Back in bed, my mind

It is 2:45 in the morning, and I am wide awake. I have been trying to sleep for long enough to have tried every position and long enough to do the sleep math. If I fall asleep this minute, I can still get five hours, now four and a half, now four… which is a calculation that has never lulled anyone to sleep. I lay there talking to myself. ‘Sleep. You need to sleep. You have a full day tomorrow. You

Every year, all frum writers put out a Nine Days piece, and every year I tell myself I won’t add to the pile unless I actually have something meaningful to share. This year, I heard something that touched me deeply. This Shabbos is called Shabbos Chazon. Chazon means a vision. The simple reason for the name is the haftorah, but Rav Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev taught that the name describes an event. On this Shabbos, every Neshama is shown an image of the third Beis Hamikdash, in all its glory. It’s

I love sentences that make you stop, back up, read them again, and wonder whether the author accidentally fell asleep on the keyboard. Reading these lines was one of those times. When up looks up, up is down. When down looks down, down is up. I spent a ridiculous amount of time staring at those two lines. I tilted my head. I read them more slowly. I briefly considered whether turning the page upside down would help me understand them

The inspiration for today’s topic came when I was reading the label on a package of mini Oreos (which I may or may not be addicted to), and it said: Made with Real Cocoa. As if that will negate all the calories I am eating. It got me thinking about all the different claims we read on packages. If something sounds official, we believe it. Let’s see if that is wise. We’ve all fallen for it. At the supermarket, as you walk

So, if depth in a relationship isn’t about being an intellectual genius, what is it?

Real depth isn’t academic, it’s relational. It is all about how you treat each other when things get tough.

Have you ever overheard a stranger’s conversation and couldn’t stop thinking about it? That happened to me last week. The Scene I was in Barnes & Noble café last week, working, when I overheard a conversation between a mother and her young daughter. The daughter wanted the mother to buy her a book that cost $20. The mother kept trying to explain that she didn’t have enough money. She calmly told the daughter she only had $9 on her card

Just Fine is Not a Sign The hardest shidduchim to deal with are the ones that are just fine. The good ones are a no-brainer. You keep going out. Happily. The bad ones give you a reason to say no. You have something concrete to tell your mother when you get home, and an explanation for the shadchan when you call her to end it. The “ just fine” ones are the problem. You weren’t watching the clock, or necessarily relieved when

My phone buzzes with an unknown number. “hi im ready to get married i like learning and sports send me ideas” That is the text that prompted this article. You can’t make this stuff up… Reaching out to a shadchan sounds like the simplest part of the shidduch process. You hear a name, get their number, send a text, and then wait to hear back. In practice, it’s where a lot of people tank their first impression before the shadchan

Half-caf, cream, no sugar. That is my usual coffee order, and whenever I say it, I chuckle to myself. Half-caf sounds like a Dr. Seuss word that was too silly even for him.  It has just enough caffeine to wake me up, but not enough to make my heart race. Enough to make me alert, but not too alert. Functional, but not too functional. It’s the beverage equivalent of straddling a doorway, unsure whether you should go in or out. Neither Here nor There Half‑caf is having one foot

In preparation for an upcoming workshop I am giving, I watched a recording of a previous talk I gave on this topic. I cringed the entire time. Is that how people see me?! Is that what I sound like?! I found a hundred things to hate — my tone of voice (Do I talk too loudly?), the moments I rambled, the way I should have stood straighter, the joke I should have cut, the answer I wish I’d given instead.

There’s a part of the Purim playlist where everyone starts singing along — v’nahafoch, v’nahafoch, v’nahafochu. We jump, we clap, we shout gleefully about turning everything upside down. Meanwhile, most of our lives are very right-side-up. Very normal. Very let’s just do what everyone else seems to be doing and call it a day. One day a year, we turn things upside down. The rest of the year proves why we need to. In the 1970s, millions of people bought pet rocks. A

I am writing this week’s newsletter from a rented Airbnb in Atlanta. With all that has been going on in my life, I needed some time away so I can recalibrate and find my way again. In her famous Ted talk, Anne Lammott said, “Almost anything will work again if you turn it off. Including you.” Hope has been on my mind a lot lately. I write about hope often, more than other topics because it is the thing underneath

If you read the Mishpacha magazine, you’ve probably seen the comic strip The Kichels by Bracha Stein and Chani Judowitz. If you haven’t, you should. This week’s made me chuckle. The basic gist of it is, a group of young boys walk into a Beis Horaah (for those that don’t know – it is a place where people bring halachic questions to a Rav) with what they believe are very serious halachic questions. One wants to know whether he can

There are times when life forces you into a bubble. In the bubble, regular life fades into the background. Work becomes something you can’t even think about. Plans stop mattering. The usual worries don’t fit in your head anymore. Your brain will not let you hold anything except the one thing that’s consuming your life right now. It’s like your mind becomes a one-room house. Nothing else matters. Sometimes the bubble is made of joy. A wedding. A new baby.

I could open a bookstore with the number of books I have. Every new book that comes out, I say to myself, “I need that one.” Every book on psychology, parenting, dating, marriage, life and every self-help concept, idea and topic, I own it. I know all the latest theories and perspectives. So, the question is, if I read so much, why was I feeling so down on myself? Why did I feel like I’m the worst spouse, mother, friend,