Why I Almost Titled This, “Why My Life Feels Impossible”
It’s been about a year since I moved back to Tel Aviv, and if I’m honest, it hasn’t been an easy transition. And even now, a full year after that move, I still haven’t completely settled in. My business suffered from the move, I’m not making a lot of money right now. I haven’t yet created my social circle where I feel belongness. I’m suffering from anxiety. I’m a single mom trying to get by in a new country, during a raging war, in a world that feels bleaker by the day. Financial stress is real. The uncertainty is overwhelming.
And yet, I still wanted to write this post about why my life is really, really, really good.
The Breaking Point
It wasn’t easy to reach this realization. A month ago, I was sitting in my doctor’s office, talking about my struggles with anxiety and depression. I had reached a point where it’s harder and harder to function. My thoughts were overwhelmingly negative.
I didn’t know if I wanted to take medication or not—I was just at a loss. My doctor told me it wasn’t severe anxiety or depression, but medication was an option. It was my choice.
I sat there, stuck. Because honestly? My thoughts weren’t just about me. It was the state of the world that weighed on me.
I kept spiraling:
The economy is crashing. The world is burning. Women’s rights are regressing. Global warming. Everything is getting more expensive. It’s an uphill battle just to get by. And then there’s my personal life. The war. The constant risk factors of living here. The financial strain of rebuilding my career from scratch. And above all? Being a single mom.
The Hardest Part: Single Motherhood
I never imagined doing this alone. I wanted to be a mom and have the “perfect family”. I even wanted more than one child. But I never knew how hard it would actually be—not just physically, but emotionally, mentally. And it’s not that I don’t get help. My parents take my daughter once a week overnight, and on Sundays after school. She’s not a baby anymore—she’s almost eight, which is easier than it used to be.
But still, it’s never-ending. It’s a constant cycle of someone else’s needs coming before my own: making school lunches, doing drop-offs, setting up playdates, going to class meetings, picking up, after school activities, setting up appointments, more meals, snacks, fighting over candy, handling a messy house, laundry, cups everywhere. The list goes on and on. It’s exhausting. It’s draining. And it’s always there, lingering in the back of my mind, preventing me from being fully myself. As I’m writing this I’m thinking about what groceries are missing to grab later today. I’m not saying that it’s not worth it, or that there aren’t any magical moments together, or that I would trade anything in the world for this. It’s not just about motherhood—it’s about the weight of doing it alone.
And Then… I Got a Break
A few weeks ago, my daughter’s father came to visit. He does this every few months, staying for a few weeks. And just like that, my time with my daughter dropped from 100% to 20%.
And my life changed overnight.
At first, I struggled. Another trait of being a Highly Sensitive Person (HSP) is that transitions hit me harder than most people. I felt sadness in the shift.
But within a couple of days? Everything felt easier. I felt rested. I could br