INBOX: The Pain of Separation

by A Young Lubavitcher 

Where am I in the picture? This is a question I’ve asked myself from a very young age.

Living in a physical world, we tend to assume everything is physical. Over time, however, I came to realize that not everything is. Not everything can be seen. Not everything can be felt by hand. The mind does not only perceive what is physical—it grasps ideas, meanings, and inner experiences.

Parents often tell their children, “I gave you everything—why would you be upset?” or “you have all you need—why wouldn’t you feel good?” but here’s what adults must understand: not everything is about the physical. there are emotional needs that a child has.

Take, for example, the fact that we see that a person needs to feel that they have a place in the picture. A secure place. Not only must that place exist—it must be clear in the child’s mind. Not having a secure place can cause a person to experience trauma. While a full definition of trauma is beyond the scope of this article, one way of explaining trauma is that it is when a person experiences something that is too overloaded for the person’s mind and capacity. A one-time small trauma usually won’t affect the person too much, but a very intense trauma—or more importantly, a trauma that is repeated over and over again—can strongly affect a person’s ability until healed.

Trauma is not only about what happened; it is about the experience of the person, and in our case, a child. In most cases, a trauma experience in childhood takes a far greater toll than a trauma experienced as an adult.

Someone who has never experienced deep trauma may not know what trauma even is. One who has never experienced deep trauma cannot fully grasp the experience, but they could study it and understand the idea. A co-worker once asked me, “is trauma a real thing?” I appreciated the question. I told him, “I promise you it is. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. I’ve felt it in my own bones.” Trauma does not only affect emotions—it affects the body as well. Often (though not always), the deeper the trauma, the more the body carries tension.

On a personal note, when I was younger, I went to doctors for a physical issue that no one could explain. It wasn’t severe, but it bothered me. Eventually, I began therapy. I did the difficult yet relieving work of revisiting that younger version of myself—the child who had silently carried so much pain.

As I progressed in my emotional healing, the physical issue gradually lessened.

In simple terms: trauma is real. It may not be physical, but it often expresses itself physically. People cry when they’re sad—that’s emotional pain affecting the body. stress shows up in the body as well: tightness, fatigue, even back pain.

There is a specific kind of pain I want to address—one that is often left unspoken.

Instead of using the “D word,” I will write “separation.”

Growing up, my parents were separated. I can’t fully explain it, but I felt like I didn’t have a place. It was as if I was on roller skates—never firmly grounded, never fully stable.

Well-meaning people tried to reassure me that everything was fine, but that didn’t help. If anything, it made things more confusing. I was being told how I should feel, while inside I felt something entirely different. There needs to be clarity between what is healthy reassurance, and when it is simply telling the child that he shouldn’t feel what he or she is feeling.

Both of my parents were alive—I wasn’t a yosom, baruch hashem. but this wasn’t about the physical reality. it was about the absence of a sense of home—a place where both parents are present together. For reasons I still can’t fully explain, it seems that a child deeply needs that. (And I’ve heard from certain lecturers that the more parents respect and connect with each other, the healthier it is for their children emotionally.)

I want to use my pain to address parents with some short lessons that can be overlooked. This is not to bash single parents, chas v’shalom. No one should ever have to have the challenges these people face. Rather, I just want to share three points that may be insightful for these parents, (and are also lessons for all parents).

Based on my own experience, together with what I’ve seen over time in children, I want to share three points.

Number one, separation does not solve everything. Many, if not most, cases of conflict between spouses and separation are rooted in unresolved childhood trauma. While together, a spouse can use these triggers as an opportunity to explore why he or she is feeling triggered. The parent can discuss it with a good therapist, think about it, and use the opportunity to heal.

Secondly, a separation of spouses is a tragedy. The gemara says this, and it is clear in so many ways. If, chas v’shalom, separation does occur (after proper guidance from a reputable therapist and a Rav, and only after genuine effort to preserve the marriage), care must be taken to avoid a second tragedy.

Children are not meant to carry their parents’ emotional burdens. Hashem created children as receivers. It is not their role to take care of the parent. Even the obligation of kibbud av va’em formally begins at bar mitzvah; beforehand, it is part of chinuch.

Parents may have real emotional needs—but those needs must not be placed on the child. Having children is a great mitzvah, and with it comes the responsibility to treat them fairly and protect their well-being.

After separation, parents often carry pain, but children are not therapists. Get a reputable therapist. Speak to someone appropriate.

One last point, whether noticeable or not, a child of separated parents is already suffering; the child’s parent should understand that. Don’t add injury to injury. A parent should make sure that their decisions do not cause harm or pain to the child. Put the child first. The child will thank the parent when they grow up, and the relationship with the child will be a positive one.

Now I turn to those who are now adults but are carrying the weight of pain since their childhood. I want to say that I myself have done a lot of healing. I won’t say it was easy, but there were very rewarding moments. It has helped me to do more and to live with a more open heart. I want to encourage you to take care of yourself. I advise you to see a good therapist, and to begin the healing you deserve. You deserve a rich life with an open heart. Much Hatzlacha in the small steps of healing.

May we merit the time when Hashem will wipe away pain from all faces. May it be speedily.