He told me that he learned to recognize a slamming door. Learned to recognize silence. Learned to recognize the sentences that come just before an explosion. And the worst thing? He learned to disappear. Not physically. Emotionally. To be a child who doesn't ask for too much. Not to interrupt. Not to add fuel to the fire • Rabbi Avraham Menachem Eisenbach, founder of "Migdalor" for education and soul, in a special column
There's a phrase I sometimes hear in the treatment room, and it stays with me long after the patient leaves: "I'm the son of parents who should have divorced.""
Today he is able to say that.
But as a child? He didn't even know what to call what was happening to him.
He only knew one thing: "I'm scared in my own house.""
Not fear of beatings. Not fear of a thief breaking in. A much quieter fear.
That fear of coming home and not knowing what evening awaits you.
You look at Dad's face, Mom's face - and try to understand what the mood is.
You learn to read breaths.
He told me that he learned to recognize a door slamming. Learned to recognize silence. Learned to recognize the sentences that come just before an explosion.
And worst of all? He learned to disappear. Not physically. Emotionally. To be a child who doesn't ask for too much. Not to get in the way.
Don't add fuel to the fire. Don't tell what dad said. Don't tell what mom said. Don't ask questions. Don't cry. Don't get angry.
Because in a home where two adults are at war, the child quickly realizes that his emotions are a luxury.
And here's the thing that no one says enough: a child is not supposed to be the family's defense system.
He's not supposed to mediate. He's not supposed to soothe. He's not supposed to keep secrets. He's not supposed to hold Mom when she falls apart. He's not supposed to be Dad's psychologist.
And he certainly shouldn't choose who is right.
But kids do it. Because kids are loyal. Sometimes painfully loyal. They will protect dad from mom. mom from dad.
And at the end of the night they will go to their room and cry alone, because they feel like they betrayed someone.
Think about the absurdity: a child is emotionally punished just because he loves both of his parents.
And this is where we need to be blunt.
Some parents say: "I stay home for the kids.""
And I want to ask: what house?
If the child sees war every day, does the mere fact that both parents are registered at the same address make the home healthy? If a child learns to fear the evening, is it "for the children"?
If he learns not to speak so as not to start a fight, is it "for the children"? If he begins to feel responsible for his parents' moods, is it "for the children"?
Sometimes the phrase "we stay for the children" sounds sacred.
But sometimes it's simply a sentence that hides fear.
Fear of stigma.
Fear of family.
Fear of the community.
Fear of money.
Fear of what they will say.
Fear of starting over.
And the child?
He pays the bill.
Not always immediately.
Sometimes he pays it off ten years later.
In a relationship.
With self-confidence.
In the ability to set boundaries.
For fear of conflict.
The need to please everyone.
Feeling that if someone is angry with him, he probably did something wrong.
•
Professional research in the field indicates that ongoing parental conflict and involving children in the conflict can significantly impair their emotional and behavioral adjustment; on the other hand, stable parenting, a secure relationship, and significant support can help them cope.
And this is important:
Divorce is not magic. It is not an automatic solution.
Sometimes divorce can be traumatic. Sometimes it makes an already difficult situation worse.
Therefore, this article must not be turned into a "get divorced" slogan.
not.
The message is different: Stop sacrificing children on the altar of image.
If you can save the marriage, fight.
Go to therapy.
Ask for help.
Break the ego.
Admit that you need help.
Rabbi Avraham Menachem Eisenbach. Photo: Courtesy
But if you can't live together without turning the house into a battleground - don't tell yourself that the children don't see.
They see everything. Even when they are silent. Maybe precisely when they are silent.
Because a child can sit at the Shabbat table, eat kugel, answer "Amen", smile at guests -
And inside his head, shouting: "Someone should do something.""
And this cry sometimes doesn't come out of my mouth for years.
There is another thing we must understand.
If you're already breaking up, don't turn the child into a battlefield.
Don't say:
""Your father did...""
""Your mother always...""
""You'll understand when you grow up...""
""If I hadn't stayed with him...""
""If your mother were...""
not.
Just not.
The child doesn't need the indictment.
He needs his parents.
Don't ask him to choose between you.
It is not a court.
He is not a judge.
He is a child.
And his heart is big enough to love both of you.
Don't force him to reduce his love for one to prove loyalty to the other.
This is not education.
This is war.
And a child in the middle of a war doesn't ask who is right.
He asks: "Who will save me?""
And I want to say something to that child too.
If you're reading this today and you're an adult - maybe you still walk around with that house inside you. Maybe you still get nervous when two people start arguing. Maybe you apologize even when you didn't do anything. Maybe you try to solve every problem of every person around you.
Maybe you're afraid to say "no." Maybe you think love has to be hard. Maybe you've gotten used to thinking that peace means you have to give up on yourself.
But listen to me: you don't have to continue their story.
You don't have to build the house you had.
You can build another house.
A house where talking is allowed.
A home where it is allowed to be angry without being intimidating.
A home where children don't have to take mom and dad's emotional temperature before entering the living room.
A home where mom and dad can be tired - and still be safe.
A home where a child doesn't have to save anyone.
And perhaps the most important sentence is this: The child doesn't need a home that looks perfect from the outside. He needs a home where he doesn't fall apart from the inside.
Because in the end, when the pictures remain in the album,
When the guests leave,
When the neighbors stop talking,
And when the world forgets who divorced who -
One child will remain.
With the memories.
With the nights.
With the questions.
With the heart.
And the only question that should really interest us is not:
""What will they say?""
And not:
""What will it look like?""
but:
""What will make this child a healthier, safer, more loved person?""
Because marriage is an important thing.
But a child is not a tool for preserving a marriage.
A child is a person.
And his heart shouldn't be the price you pay to prove to the world that your family is still "whole.".
Sometimes you have to fight to save a home.
And sometimes you have to fight to save those who live inside you.
And the difference between the two - could be the difference between a child who spends his entire life trying to escape the house he had, and a man who one day manages to build his children the house he himself always dreamed of.
