The Evolution Of A Divorcee On Passover

As I’m packing for my annual upcoming Passover trip, I’m reflecting on the shifts this particular holiday has taken since I got divorced 6 1/2 years ago. As you may have gathered by now, especially if you’ve been here for awhile, you know I’m a big reflector. It can take chutzpah to take inventory of life’s changes; it’s not always easy and pleasant to look at. However, I believe fervently that seriously and honestly reflecting is a key factor in growth and evolution. That has certainly been the case for me. How can we move onward and upward if we don’t know what the heck happened previously? Rewriting new chapters requires reviewing the ones that have already been written.
I love the Jewish holidays with all my heart. I always have. Passover is the longest one and the first one that marks Spring. It’s such a joyous holiday that celebrates freedom and renewal. Because Passover requires a special diet, it’s a common tradition for many Jews to pack up their families for almost 2 weeks and check into special Passover programs in hotels, where the food and synagogue services are all taken care of. I have celebrated this holiday in this way my entire life. I have been everywhere from the Catskills (the famous Grossingers Resort!!!!) to Israel to California to Arizona, with decades spent in Miami, where I’m going again this year. Miami for New York/Jersey Jews is our backyard, and there’s a comforting familiarity in going there. Recognizing the familiar spots in Miami has been grounding over the past few years in which my new Passover family model has radically changed. Miami has given me comfort amidst the occasional discomfort of new growing pains.
This is the only holiday thus far where my kids are with their dad, and it was initially very disorienting and sad for me to be alone. I had obviously never celebrated a holiday without my kids until I got divorced. I went from spending weeks packing up everyone’s holiday clothes, school projects, and the special things needed for the Seder to packing just for myself. It took me a few years to even figure out where to stay, and I admit to feeling adrift and homeless for the first few years. It was very hard to not spend both Seders with my kids, and it still is. I have gotten used to it and now enjoy that time with close friends who always welcome me with open arms, but I still feel strange not being with my children. I felt unmoored for a long time and still have moments where that particular uncomfortable feeling pops up. My kids and their dad go to Miami to be with family and so I have too, so that I can still see them. I sometimes feel like a visitor and not like their mother, an outsider to whatever plans they have going on. I’m thrilled they enjoy the holiday with their father, family and friends, but I feel sad when I feel like I’m an afterthought. I have tried various rooming accommodations as I worked to find my footing on Passover, staying in lonely Air BNB’s and random hotels. I swear, I was once in an apartment where I’m convinced pornography was being shot in the unit above me. Trust me, there weren’t enough ear plugs in the world… I tried… Before I got divorced, I never went in a car on a Jewish holiday. In this new divorced model, I had to get in a vehicle (something I was raised not to do out of observance for the sabbath and holidays) in order to be with my kids at least for the first Seder, which is a really important night. This was/is super uncomfortable but I felt, and still feel, it’s more important to be with my family than to not get into a car. Last year there were unvaccinated guests at the family Seder, and my doctor forbade me from attending due to my being immuno compromised because of ulcerative colitis. I had not been made aware of this until right before the holiday, and I was furious that I could not spend at least the first Seder with my children. It was the first time this happened and it was very frustrating, difficult, and jarring; I literally plan my entire trip around this. I felt unfairly edged out, unconsidered, and alone. Not having my feelings being taken into account is a massive trigger for me, and I was seething that basic, transparent covid etiquette was not adhered to ( fairly disclosing the presence of the unvaccinated out of regard for everyone’s health). But that was last year.

So here’s where I’m at now with all of this. As of last year, despite the Seder debacle, I began to finally feel grounded again in this holiday. The rhythm became more familiar. This came in fits and starts, learning from errors in judgment and decision making, with accepting the generosity and warmth of supportive friendships, with letting go of my stories about how this holiday had to look, and embracing a new reality. A reality in which I have this wonderful opportunity to have an actual vacation while knowing my kids are having a great time with their dad, who does a terrific job taking care of them. It’s an invitation for me to take a step back, not resist the circumstances, and have a fresh relationship with myself in the context of Passover. This means having a fresh relationship to Passover itself. I have learned to re root myself and still love the holiday despite the new shape it has taken. I have much to be deeply grateful for: Jewish liberation, openly celebrating the holiday with my best friends and family, a vacation on the beach, staying in a nice hotel with an ocean view, the chance to read, relax, and sit on my ass staring at the water, and a co parent who affords me peace of mind as far as the kids being safe and happy.
Like life in general and a divorced family itself, shapes will continue to shift. Reconfiguring and readjusting is often challenging and uncomfortable. My Buddhist practice supports me greatly in navigation of all changes, and the core teaching of impermanence is a comfort because it’s true. I can resist changes and invite more suffering upon myself, or I can learn resilience, adaptability, and how to keep finding ground when things seem unstable. To flow with the current ingredients of life is a skill I’m always cultivating and practicing. It’s a muscle that gets stronger with repetition, and it’s life’s challenges that drive us to practice and repeat. This is the essence of liberation, feeling spacious and easeful amidst the changing tides of circumstance. Because change they will.

Wishing us all a new season of using our direct experience to encourage and unlock inner freedom.