Do you have to smash into rocks to wake up?

About goals, injuries, and lessons that come wrapped in pain

I told you a little about how I feel like I'm going through

I will try to explain it here – both because writing and sharing help me process the experience and put it into words, and also because perhaps some of you will identify (and I would be very happy to hear if you do).

I originally planned a couple of extra busy weeks (you know I tend to overdo it). I was supposed to be an assistant at Jade's camp with the girls, like last year, and then go on to Sierra Hot Springs to finish the reversibility training I started a year ago. But then... I got injured. And all the plans went awry.

No camp, no training. It also means that Uri and my dad had to split the days with the girls, because it was important to me that they didn't miss camp. But it also means – and this is no small detail – that this is the first time since they were born that they are in a setting, without me.

Some important background:

One of the changes we decided to make to try to regain balance was to bring the girls into the framework. It was not an easy decision – especially for me.

In two weeks they will start kindergarten, three days a week. For me, this is a huge turning point. I don't know what the future will hold, but it is clear to me that the previous chapter is over. And we are entering a new chapter.

I already said that I feel like I've crossed a threshold - and really, in the last two months, we've been through so much: We left the country after six months, we moved to a new house in the Santa Cruz forest, Uri finished his job, I joined a new and exciting project, and I basically became the main breadwinner. Which also means - I can no longer continue with homeschooling like before.

Then came the injury.

That morning I left the house in a bad mood. On the way, a dark thought occurred to me, one that's hard to write out loud:

(It's important for me to say – I'm not a suicidal person, I never have been. It was a fleeting thought, what's called

Less than two minutes later – boom. The wheel came off from under me, I flew across the asphalt at a speed of more than 40 km/h. I felt my face smeared on the road, a sharp pain in my knee, abrasions all over my body. There was no way to stop.

Within a moment, a girl got out of the car and ran to me. She asked if I should call someone – I asked her to call Uri. In less than 10 minutes, an ambulance and fire department arrived. After them – Uri and the girls. It’s clear to me that it wasn’t easy for them to see me like this, but I tried to stay calm. In the evening, I told Uri about the thought I had, and the tears didn’t stop flowing.

At first – I just thought about how the injury had screwed up all my plans. But something inside me knew that this was no coincidence. From the moment I returned from the hospital, I said to myself (and to good friends who supported me): There must be a lesson here that I need to learn. And I'm ready to learn. I reminded myself that

So I changed my approach. I took care of my body. I rested. I treated myself with plants. I was grateful for the opportunity. I surrounded myself with love. And in the end – I was left alone in the new house, which was suddenly so stable. It became my kingdom. One evening, while I was preparing food for the next day, I realized that this was the first time in four years that I had a routine. And that I was comfortable. And I was good. I remembered the phrase:

It was one of my most productive weeks in years. I didn't leave the house – and I didn't feel the need to. For the first time, my body felt safe to rest. I really needed to break down – so the tenderness could come out.

When I was still in Israel, a friend asked me:

By the way, this week also served as preparation for the girls. A kind of interim period, a transition from homeschooling to entering a setting. It wasn't easy for them, especially for Naya - who always wanted me to be with her at camp. But it was also important. Something inside started to build. A little confidence. A little ability to meet people without me.

And the bottom line?

More than a decade ago, I visited Neot Smadar. At a morning circle, someone read a poem she had written, and ended with words that have resonated with me ever since:

So apparently… in my case – it was asphalt 😅