Today is one week. One week ago, I saw a flyer on facebook. It was an advertisement for the JCW event to take place in LA in a few weeks. I contacted a staff member simply to volunteer. The event, I thought at the time, was to address childhood sexual abuse in Jewish communal settings – schools, shuls, camps and youth groups, all of which I have attended and or worked for. It didn’t, I thought, necessarily pertain to me and my life. No one at any of these places ever hurt me. I was being righteous, I was being just and I was doing, in a small way, something to help those who could not help themselves; those whose voices could not be heard.

I was to speak with a staff member and excited to help save children, in whatever way I was able. Then I spoke to her. I shared a little about why I felt so strongly. She thanked me for sharing my story. Then she asked if it was okay with me to share it with a member of their support department. Support department? I was unaware that they had one. I was unaware that anyone had one. I said yes. I had no idea what was coming.

The next night the support coordinator called me. We spoke for a little. I started to cry. She told me things that I had dreamed of hearing. JCW helps survivors. “They probably give out names of trauma counselors,” I thought. No. I was wrong. They do not only distribute names of counselors or support groups.

Today marks one week since speaking with JCW for the first time. Since remembering my blocked out trauma three and a half years, eight therapists, and countless tears ago, this week was the first in which I feel like there is a plan. There are people who are committed to helping me, a stranger, feel like a person again. For the first time in my adult life, there is a team- yes, a team, of people who tell me to call them if I have a nightmare at 2am, if I am having a hard day or if I just need to talk. They care, they acknowledge and they understand in a way I have never felt from anyone.

A care plan has been established by JCW. A team has worked together to assemble a customized treatment plan. Who does this? Why am I so fortunate to merit this kind of kindness? I wake up, checking my email, looking for emails from JCW. I check for these emails to make sure that what is happening isn’t a dream. I am finally getting the help I need. I am terrified, but I can’t wait to embark on this path of healing. There are no words to describe, however, how comforted I am to have survivors and experts holding my hand while I do. This would not be possible without them.

This past Thursday was Purim, one of my favorite childhood holidays, which is infused with the theme of miracles; a number of “coincidences” which occurred and led to the salvation of Persian Jewery. I find it incredibly appropriate that this is the week that miracles happened in my life. This is the week I was introduced and dove into the world of JCW. This was the week where I started to feel like I would have a life. Baruch Hashem!


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