I can’t be the only one feeling it this week. Right?

You know… it.

The endlessness of the longest days of the year. The heat. The lack of rhythm.
The "everything is on me" feeling that comes when school ends but camp hasn't quite begun.

That in between space where the noise dies down, the schedule disappears, and suddenly I'm left in the quiet of my life...and it's deafening.

These past few days, I touched a kind of aloneness I haven't felt in a long time.

Not lonely, exactly. Just alone.
Very aware that it's me. Just me.

Making decisions I never imagined I would have to make.
Counting down the hours in the longest stretch of light.
Holding everything, with no one to pass it to.

And I know I'm not the only one.

The other day, chasing after Deeds, (who is basically lightning on his little scooter,) I flashed back to the morning of his bris.

I was up in the women’s section, looking down and praying with everything I had.

In Chassidish circles, women aren't usually encouraged to attend their sons’ brissim. 

But I insisted.
Because I had something to say.
Because I needed a moment with Hashem.

One of my sons didn't have a school.
My daughter’s summer plans had fallen through.
I was postpartum and floundering.
And I looked down at my baby and I said to Hashem,

You're my partner here.
I'm doing my part to raise them in Your Torah.
I need to feel You showing up more.
I can't do this alone.

That feeling, that "on my ownness," has been with me again this week.
The ache of carrying something too big, too overwhelming, too endless… by myself.

And maybe that's why that bris moment popped into my consciousness.
To help me remember I was never meant to do this alone.
To remind me to invite Hashem back to the table.

Some of us feel that aloneness because we didn't get the support we needed from our parents.
Some of us feel like we're doing this parenting thing solo, even when we're not technically alone.
Some of us never had that embodied relationship with G-d.
We weren't taught to feel Him in our bones. We were taught rules. Expectations. Fear.
Not Presence.

But He is here.
And He wants in.
Not as a concept. Not as a book on a shelf.
As a partner. As the third in creation. As the One who has always been holding you.

Today I spent an hour in the pool with Deeds. Just the two of us.
And in that peace, I remembered all those who have come through the water at Emerge.

The way they breathed underwater, like they were being reborn.
The way their bodies softened when they realized they were not alone. Not ever.

In the stillness. In the surrender. In the still beneath the surface.
That's where they felt Him. All One. Never alone. 
That's where they remembered.
And they finally knew what it meant to feel Him.

At one point in the pool, Deeds sighed and said,
"Mommy… it 's so beautiful here."

And it is.
And I want you to feel it too.

Because Emerge isn't just breathwork.
It's return. It's repair. It's a remembering.

It’s five years of training, research, and trust distilled into one day.*
Five hours of field work. Three hours of breath.
And something eternal that can't be described, only encountered.

It’s not therapy.
It’s not a workshop.
It’s an invitation into Divine partnership.

Because we were never meant to do this alone.

Emerge. July 15. Toms River, NJ.

With all my love,
Fally

Emerge isn’t just sticking people in a pool and telling them to breathe.

Emerge is the result of years of applied and also quiet study, lived experience, and deep listening. It draws from the secrets of mikvah, the science of hydrotherapy, rebirthing breathwork, and also includes pieces of systemic constellations, and attachment repair.

But more than anything, Emerge is a container held with deep intention. There are hours of preparation before anyone even touches the water, because the depth of what can surface isn’t something to play with. This isn’t a hack or a trend or a pop-up healing thing. It’s a carefully tended space for real transformation. And it works because of the way it’s held. The container, the prayer, the training, the timing. You can’t just copy and paste that. You’ve got to live it. And I do.

That’s why two breath sessions with a facilitator trained by me is non-negotiable prep. A full directory of certified facilitators can be found on my site