One of my favorite memories was leaving home at 16. I wasn’t happy for a long time before that -- but the second my father threw a punch and told me to “get out” my mind was made up. The moment that I saw his fist go through our wall, I knew I was leaving. He was a good father in so many ways and I’m grateful to him for more things that I can list here—but what I am most grateful for, and what I review, now, almost every morning when I wake up, is how he taught me to not be like him and how he taught me that I could never get what I needed from him. I didn’t always know G-d’s light was hidden in pain. I didn’t always know that trauma wasn’t just happening to me but that it was happening for me—but, thank G-d, I know it now.
The whole course of my life changed with that decision because in its wake I’ve been forced to make a lot more good decisions that have built me into the man who I am proud to be today. I was forced to decide that I will never hit my kids—no matter what, and that I was not going to put my family through what I had to go through. It took time for me to conquer my own rage and wish to lash out, but the necessity to do that brought G-d into my life. I was forced to live a spiritual life and to forsake material comforts. I was forced to live in Israel. Only my pain was strong enough to move me to what I had to do with my life.
Blessings for a wonder Shushan Purim!