More and more members of the reserves are being released home after having served four or even five months, some in Gaza, some on the northern border or in Judea and Samaria, some having seen combat, some in intense intelligence positions. The processing is just beginning. It’s like holding your breath and now having to let go.
I have been a couples therapist for more than a decade, and in the past two weeks, I have seen more and more couples sitting on my couch, trying to make sense of what they have gone through this year.
The asymmetry between the experience of the partner who stayed home, predominantly the woman, and the one who has been away is incomprehensible. Just thinking of the women who have had to deal with a 3-year-old, a 6-year-old and a baby all being sick at the same time while worrying about how to get the presentation that she needs for work done and not forgetting to help the next-door neighbor who also has a spouse away – and also worrying sick for your spouse – is gut-wrenching.
I have heard many examples of this. A woman who is a teacher trying to juggle between small children and work after four months of her partner being away. The principal called her in for a meeting and told the teacher that she is very disappointed that she isn’t showing more flexibility toward the school and isn’t contributing more. Another woman lost her job as she couldn’t commit to more hours.
On the home front, this is a very difficult winter health-wise, and toddlers are more susceptible to the flu, so a woman describes having to tend to three sick kids while running a fever. Shabbat is also an issue: cooking and making up for the kids not being able to play with their father, all the while coping with her sadness.
JUGGLING PTA meetings on the same night in two different schools is hard enough when it is two of you, but when there is only one and the kids are constantly calling you because they are having a hard time being away from you, it’s even more complex. And lo and behold when a soldier comes home, his parents suddenly manifest out of thin air and fuss around him, but they magically vanish when he returns to the army.
Returning soldier feels a sense of purpose
The returning soldier feels a sense of purpose, having put his life at risk to protect his family. When coming home, he finds a child who is already walking, talking, eating solids, reading – he has missed all of these milestones.
Moreover, he has to learn what he can share and what he can’t even put into words yet, and how he can retrain his nervous system to down-regulate.
Another aspect that I feel is less dealt with is that we, the ones who stayed home, had our time to start coming to terms and starting our new reality. In contrast, if this soldier was in intense service in some shape or form, then the processing has only just begun.
The partner that was away mainly described their experience like being in a bubble, feeling like they were pulled out from their lives. The world kept going, but they were in an alternate reality; they felt like they had a lot of catching up to do, which would never happen. A lot of the ones coming back from Gaza find it hard to concentrate; they are easily irritated, fidgety, and have very short tempers; they talk about feeling like outsiders, and the only ones who can understand them are the ones who they fought with or someone else who was there.
There is a vast chasm between these two members of the most intimate of relationships; they need to find a way back to each other. I take that back: They need to pave a whole new road based on the old one, with the trust and confidence that was there in the past infused with a lot of patience and understanding regarding the magnitude of the experience that this country has gone through and is still going through.
AS I HAVE mentioned, both partners have changed. They have developed new habits, so they have to relearn how to live together – it can be a fun game to decide which new habits are keepers. With this in mind, newfound independence can be celebrated, and couples can choose to devise the chores differently.
As this has been a very long time of living apart, getting back together can take time, and old and new issues may arise that need attention, even though there are a lot of outside pressures – including kids as well as work and extended family. It is important to carve out some alone time for each one of you privately to process and then for the two of you as a couple. It is also an opportunity to complain, to cry, to be angry – and then to dream again.
The home that the soldier left is not the same home; the roles and rules have changed, and the older kids may function as surrogate parents, with some even sleeping on his side of the bed. The rules have also changed: bedtime may be more flexible or more strict.
The kids also need time to adjust, to get used to the new reality: a father coming home and wanting to hold his baby, but the baby clings to mum, who needs some much-deserved alone time.
There was also some disappointment from family and friends who were not available to give the necessary support, and there was also a sense of frustration from the lack of accommodation at the workplace.
I have not even mentioned people in keva, career soldiers, who have also been going through intense experiences but are somehow overlooked as “it’s their job.”
All this processing needs time, which nobody really has – and the war is still far from over. There is a beautiful song I reference, and I see that many other therapists do, too. It’s an Israeli song written in the ‘70s in which the couples ask each other for a moment to get used to each other again. This acknowledgment is the first step in understanding how big this event is and that there is much catching up to be done.
It is very encouraging to know that the reserves fund found it necessary enough to sponsor some couples therapy sessions. There is also funding for individual therapy and for a family vacation: if you are reading this and were in reserves, or your partner was, I strongly encourage you to take advantage of this – it is vital for your well-being.
The writer, an MSW, is a couples and family therapist, and a doctoral student at Wurzweiler School of Social Work at Yeshiva University.