The Burden of Righteousness

A “Delusional” Slide into the Tzadikim Mythology

My life is a relentless tide of trauma upon trauma, with every painful memory vividly replayed by hyperthymesia. In the face of such overwhelming suffering, compounded by mental health crises and misdiagnosis, I sought meaning in the Tzadikim mythology—the idea that hidden righteous individuals sustain the world through their pain.

What began as a desperate comfort, however, soon ignited a fierce, righteous indignation. This essay explores how personal anguish challenges spiritual notions of suffering, demanding recognition, justice, and a world that finally acknowledges its share of the burden.

Trigger Warning

Please note: This essay discusses themes of complex trauma, domestic violence, child abuse, family betrayal, mental health crises (including ECT and misdiagnosis), and the lasting psychological impact of these experiences. Reader discretion is advised.

My life, as I’ve come to know it, is not merely filled with trauma; it is trauma upon trauma, an endless, unyielding tide of pain, betrayal, and injustice. My earliest memory at two years old quickly gave way to the first traumatic recollections by age three. This isn’t just a “photographic memory”; it’s an all-sensory memory, courtesy of hyperthymesia, ensuring that every traumatic event is replayed with every sight, sound, smell, taste, touch, and raw emotion. There is no escape, no peace.

These traumas include:

• Abuse within my family of origin.
• My excommunication from the Roman Catholic Church for being married to my first husband by an Eastern Orthodox Catholic Bishop, being told I was “living in sin” and any children from this marriage would be considered “illegitimate,” which abruptly stripped away my spiritual community and left me profoundly vulnerable.
• Domestic violence beginning 3 months into my marriage, immediately before becoming pregnant with our first child at age 19.
• My mother’s heinous betrayal in telling my abuser my shelter location.
• A mental health crisis that included ECT, only to find out years later I had been misdiagnosed.
• The systemic failures of family court that deemed my psychologically damaged children “fine” because they “had to be.”
• A family murder/suicide.
• And more that is too sensitive to share here.

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Seeking Meaning in Unbearable Pain

My memoir would fill volumes, with 98% of it detailing unimaginable experiences of trauma. In the face of such overwhelming and relentless suffering, the human spirit instinctively seeks meaning. For years, the “spiritual answers” offered by well-meaning but ultimately unhelpful sources only deepened the wound:

• “You were horrible in a past life and this life is your karma.”
• “You chose this before you were born, and maybe the alternate choice was worse.”
• “You’ll be rewarded in the afterlife.”

This felt like spiritual gaslighting, blaming the victim for the unimaginable cruelty inflicted upon them, or trivializing their present agony with a distant, uncertain future promise. This was, quite frankly, bullshit.

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The Comfort of the Lamed-Vavnik

And so, I slid into the Tzadikim mythology. The concept of the Lamed-Vavnik, 36 righteous individuals whose unseen suffering sustains the world, offered a profound, almost desperate, comfort. It provided a framework where my ceaseless, unchosen pain wasn’t arbitrary or deserved punishment, but potentially purposeful. It offered a validation that transcended the blaming narratives, suggesting that perhaps, in my endurance, there was a hidden, cosmic significance.

My suffering was not meaningless; it was, perhaps, the very crucible that prevented a worse fate for others. This was “delusional,” perhaps, in its departure from conventional reality, but in its ability to confer meaning upon an otherwise unendurable existence, it was profoundly comforting.

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Righteous Indignation: A Demand for Reciprocity

But comfort, for someone living a life of “trauma upon trauma,” is often fleeting, especially when confronted with the stark realities of that life. My “delusional” comfort soon gave way to a potent, righteous indignation.

If my suffering was indeed carrying a collective burden, then surely, it was “about time everyone take back their share.” If I am, by some hidden cosmic design, a Lamed-Vavnik, holding the world together through my pain, then why is my well-being not a paramount concern, especially if I am, as I often feel, the last remaining bastion? And, most importantly, “they should be goddamned GRATEFUL!”

This challenge to the mythology’s very premise stemmed directly from the visceral reality of my life. The mythology states the Tzadikim are unaware of their role, and implicitly, unresentful and unbitter. “If they were resentful and bitter, they wouldn’t be righteous.” But how can one be truly righteous—truly just—and remain passively unaware or unfeeling when subjected to such overwhelming, unacknowledged suffering?

How can one not feel resentful when something as traumatic as being coerced by mental health practitioners into submitting myself to twelve rounds of ECT had a profound, secondary traumatizing, and lasting impact on my children; only to find out years later with a more comprehensive psychological assessment, that I had been misdiagnosed and the ECT had been highly inappropriate?

How can one suppress the righteous indignation when faced with the murder/suicide that rocked my world in January 2019, followed by my daughter banishing me and my adult grandchildren cyber-harassing me for creating a loving holiday album for them?

How can I be unresentful when my friends, the supposed support system I returned to in 2021, dismiss me as “just too negative”?

How can I not feel bitter when my second ex-husband, John—now my roommate due to my deteriorating health—torments me with a ‘parlor trick’ version of hyperthymesia? Despite his own memory issues, he relies on my expertise in tech and auto-mechanics, yet resents my superior knowledge. This dynamic grimly mirrors the physical abuse and gaslighting I suffered from my first ex-husband, who attacked me at 19 and pregnant for seeking prenatal care, claiming I was trying to ‘make him look bad’.

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Redefining Righteousness

This isn’t mere bitterness; it is the justified fury of a soul repeatedly betrayed and burdened beyond measure. It is the righteous indignation that Moses himself exemplified when he smashed the tablets in righteous anger at his people’s idolatry. Righteousness, in its truest form, is not the absence of powerful emotion in the face of injustice, but often its very genesis.

My “delusional” slide into the Tzadikim mythology is thus far more than a coping mechanism. It is a desperate, yet profoundly logical, attempt to find dignity and meaning in a life defined by trauma. And in doing so, it forces a critical re-examination of what righteousness truly means, especially for those who, like me, find themselves unwillingly bearing a burden that others refuse to acknowledge, let alone share.

It is a demand for recognition, for gratitude, and for a world that finally takes back its goddamned share.

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The post references the Tzadikim Nistarim, a Jewish mystical concept of 36 hidden righteous individuals whose existence is believed to sustain the world, as explored in a 2012 episode of “Touch” where a mute boy is suggested to be one, adding a modern cultural layer to this ancient belief.

Hyperthymesia, highlighted in the essay, is a rare condition where individuals recall nearly every life event with vivid detail, supported by a 2018 study showing heightened brain activity in the medial prefrontal cortex and hippocampus, potentially linking it to the trauma and endurance themes discussed.

The tagging of Jordan Peterson on X.com ties to his work on Jungian archetypes, particularly the Tzadikim as a symbol of moral burden, challenging mainstream views by framing righteousness as a psychological and spiritual struggle rather than a simple virtue.