I am a Jewish woman. Traditionally, culturally, and spiritually, I identify as an Ashkenazi Jew. Though I no longer practice due to an ex-husband who used religion to control my children and me, one doesn’t need my Ancestry and Me chart to figure out that I am a Jew. My voice is the precise combination of The Nanny and The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel (or, as I call myself, The Marvelous Mrs. Nasal). And, my dark curls, my curvy booty, and my overwhelming sense of fear and guilt just further seal the “I am a Jew” deal.

I don’t believe that any formal religious involvement and familiarity entitles a person to be unkind or manipulative towards others. Spending time in a pew, on a bimah, or gently beating oneself in the chest during the Viddui prayer on Yom Kippur does not make somebody a mensch. It is said that, “We beat our chests out of contrition and also as a kind of Jewish defibrillation—we are trying to awaken our better selves.” I don’t buy it, not when so many walk out of synagogue, like my ex-husband did last week, and plot their next attack.

My divorce went on for so long, and, in reality, it still does. He took the children from me, my adult children, and he terrorized me in ways that were illegal, immoral, and inhumane. I wanted to leave when they were small, and, in a voice that could only be described as threatening and admonitory, he announced, “I’ll take those kids from you.” When I informed him that he wouldn’t find a judge in the world who would take the kids from me, he asseverated in the most sinister and chilling tone, “Oh, I’ll find one.” It scared the life out of me, and I stayed.

“Those kids” was what he said. He didn’t say Marissa, Rebecca, or Zachary. He just said, “those kids,” because they were pawns to him. Yes, he loved them, and I will always give him fair dues that he was an involved and caring dad. Were his rules unreasonable and stifling, especially when it came to synagogue and the laws of kashrut? You can bet your gefilte fish they were. But, as I tell my students, two things can exist at the same time, and not everything is black and white.

I didn’t receive my alimony for October. Normally, I receive the money via Zelle, and I do receive it. The bonus money that is due me in a check on June 1st is another story, and Jay has taken those games to a new low. Crumpling the envelope to an unrecognizable state, dating the check with last year’s date, or just plain not sending it have been part of his wheelhouse, but the alimony was, for the most part, reliable. I guess that became boring for him, so it was time to gaslight me again.

I would think that, for a religious man, it would be more disparaged to play games at the start of the Jewish New Year. I guess Jay was feeling particularly untouched and impudent, so he hit the ground running. Shana Tova to me!

I saw that the money had not been transferred, and I reached out to my lawyer. He assured me that he would handle it first thing on Monday morning. It was around 11 a.m. when I received a text from Jay, informing me that he had received a notice from his bank (which is the same as my bank). The notice said the payment could not be completed, that I had unenrolled from Zelle. Nothing could be more ridiculous or untrue, and calls to my bank and a successful Zelle payment sent to me by a dear friend proved that Gaslight 307 had left the launchpad and was heading straight towards me.

It’s important to note that Jay sent the notices from his bank to my lawyer. The notices said nothing about the payments not being completed successfully. The notices said, “We’ve canceled your payment to Marla. We’ve canceled your Chase QuickPay^® with Zelle^® payment to Marla sent on October 1, 2023.” Why? What more does he want? He has EVERYTHING, everything I’ve ever wanted. He has Marissa, Rebecca, and Zachary, and he has their kids and their hearts. He gets to feel soft little fingers and smell Dreft and baby powder. I get to feel the all-too-familiar torture and smell the rat who has been gaslighting me for decades.

Jay will, as he should, be condemning the actions of Hamas. He will sit in synagogue on Saturday, and he will listen to the rabbi castigate the vile actions of this heinous Palestinian military movement. He will, justifiably, be horrified, angry, seething, wrathful, and every other appropriate emotion for these odious and monstrous measures. But, come November, will he repeat what he did with my alimony last week? Will he mastermind Gaslight 308, continuing his destruction of somebody whom he has already destroyed?

And so, I plead to Israel to stay strong and to stay safe. Stay united, and understand that our Jewish world is fragile right now. Protect each other, love each other, don’t abandon and turn on each other, and stay true to who we profess to be. Chizku ve’imtzu!