What to wear when picking up your GET?


I still can’t wrap my head totally around it..
Yesterday after nearly 3 years of being chained I FINALLY received that precious GET! (Insert fist pumps & happy dance)

You would think the night before this all went down I would be cautiously excited desperate to jump with joy screaming at everyone I met, “it’s happening, it’s happening..”

But instead, I was drunk on food from post t’shabav feasting, and laying in bed with my Tunie B. curled up and fused to my spine like sweaty camel humps, the only thoughts running through my head were…

What exactly does one wear to pick up her GET?
I know…really…Sarah? You think those Bet Din Rabbis are going to take one look at you and say…she wore that short black skirt, sorry NO GET for her?

But the mind is a funny thing. It plays games trying to protect you from emotional overload, your psyche creeping up in the haze of your stormy thoughts using it magic fingers to disguise your feelings in mundane curiosities.

What did I wear to get my GET?

I wore the last 2 years 8 months 36 days and 15 hours of battle scars.
My pockets were filled with the pain that is seeing my marriage end in it’s entirety. Yet knowing absolutely it’s end will be my salvation.
I wore my bruised heart on my shirt sleeve.
My feet dragging in the laced up bittersweet mixed emotions that was the awesome happy relief and deep sadness I was muddling through.
My hands held by the support of my friends and family, totally naked of rings, clearly marking my much anticipated singleness to come.
I was dressed appropriatly.

As I sat across from the table of men at the bet din, staring at the proxy that was sent by my ex in his place, reading out loud the words written on that small piece of paper, I picked nervously at my sleeves hem.

I pulled at the stray threads like I would the petals of a daisy, counting to myself….
(One thread for) good memory,
(One thread for) bad memory,
Good memory,
Till the proxy finished & I was officially divorced.

My battle for freedom is over.

I stepped out of the Bet Din that day into the bright shining sun, thinking one thought…

I can now run the streets dressed in the patchwork of the experiences and lessons of the last decade that was my marriage and divorce.

And like Scarlet O’Hara in her green curtain dress, sing at the top of my lungs …

“Free at last! Great God Almighty, Free at Last!”

I am grateful.