My rich powerful Chabad family raises millions for the Rebbe, but their schizophrenic sister can’t cover a root canal.
Oatmeal all day at the half way house.
They send matzos on Pesach, but on the internet I see them feeding thousands at the Seder.
My brother just raised 20 million for a new building but said no when I asked him for $100, since I smoke weed.
When my psychiatrists send letters and reports to my family about my mental condition, they yell at me that I need rehab for marijuana because that’s what Rabbi Dr. told them and Rabbi A. confirmed that my family is not to talk me or help me in any way until I go against my Psychiatrist’s orders to smoke weed for my PTSD.
(It’s infuriating to see Rabbi A. at community addiction meetings meetings since his 1950’s era backwards philosophy had me homeless and hungry for a number of years.)
My family works for God and the Rebbe.
They are great workers for God and the Rebbe.
I read about them in the Chabad websites.
I try to love and bless them still, but it doesn’t always work.
Because I was raised by Chabad to believe that God and the Rebbe love me as well.
My story is not an isolated Chabad story.
For every shliach has a brother/sister in a basement, on pills, forgotten, thinking of killing themselves.