{"id":34281,"date":"2013-12-19T19:07:41","date_gmt":"2013-12-19T19:07:41","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.ou.org\/life\/?p=34281"},"modified":"2013-12-19T21:53:32","modified_gmt":"2013-12-19T21:53:32","slug":"seasonally-affected","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.ou.org\/life\/news-op-ed\/seasonally-affected\/","title":{"rendered":"I Lived the PEW Report"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"Dreidels\"<\/a>Some people are diagnosed with Seasonal Affective Disorder (S.A.D.), others experience \u201cwinter blues\u201d \u2014 both characteristically marked by feelings of melancholy and restlessness from the cold temperatures and lack of sun.\u00a0 Although I am not diagnosed with S.A.D, I do find myself \u201cseasonally affected\u201d in the days leading up to Thanksgiving through New Year\u2019s Day, also popularly known as the \u201choliday season.\u201d<\/p>\n

I am the daughter of two loving parents, a Roman Catholic mother and a Jewish father, raised within the Reform Jewish movement. I didn\u2019t have to read the Pew report, I grew up as the Pew report.<\/p>\n

I used to joke that I grew up as a \u201cJew raised in captivity.\u201d My parents would insist that my brothers and I are Jewish, yet beyond attending Sunday Hebrew school (where I felt I couldn\u2019t connect well with the other kids who went to school and summer camp together), lighting a Chanukah menorah and celebrating a Passover seder<\/i>, I had no clue what made me a Jew.\u00a0 Sometimes my father would take us to Friday night services, if it was a holiday or his turn to read announcements from the bimah<\/i>; I enjoyed singing along but didn\u2019t understand what was being said. I could barely read Hebrew; the few verses I chanted from the Torah as a bat mitzvah were prepared as if memorizing a song.<\/p>\n

We didn\u2019t live in a Jewish community (in fact, in our town I grew up as the fourth generation of my mother\u2019s family); we didn\u2019t discuss anything Jewish in our home (let alone Israel); I didn\u2019t have close friends who were Jewish or attend public school with any other students who identified as Jewish; I didn\u2019t understand what Shabbat meant (let alone do anything to observe it); we certainly didn\u2019t keep kosher.<\/p>\n

My paternal grandparents passed away before I was a year old, and my father\u2019s family didn\u2019t live nearby, so naturally I grew up significantly closer to members of my mother\u2019s family. My maternal grandmother moved in with our family when I was very young, and my grandmother became a beautiful influence and confidant. She taught me life skills such as crocheting, ironing, sewing and cooking. She taught me how to play the piano and various card games. She taught me her family recipes and shared stories of her life and her family\u2019s genealogy from Poland. A devout Catholic, she<\/i> imbued me with knowledge of God and a relationship with our Creator.<\/p>\n

Christmas was never of religious significance to me, but the weeks leading up to this day were filled with respect for the traditions of my mother and warmth of complacency.<\/p>\n

Thanksgiving was always a big deal for my parents, who loved to open our home to friends and family. And the Friday after Thanksgiving, my mother\u2019s older sister would join the three of us to prepare homemade pierogis \u2014 small pockets of boiled dough we would fill with mashed potatoes, farmer\u2019s cheese, or sauerkraut and mushrooms.\u00a0 We would make dozens of these, then freeze them to be fried and eaten on Christmas Eve, when my extended family would come to our home for a traditional Polish meatless supper.<\/p>\n

Over the next few weeks, our home would transform into a winter wonderland. Candles in the windows with garland and bows, snowmen and snowflakes, wooden caroling dolls decorated the fireplace mantel with our stockings, and the pi\u00e8ce de r\u00e9sistance \u2014 my mother\u2019s tree, lit-up in our front picture window, complete with angel on top. We\u2019d all participate in decorating the tree, hanging ornaments ranging from my mother\u2019s expensive glass-and-crystal keepsakes, to holiday Barbie and homemade decorations. And in our home, yes, dreidel lights lined the bottom of the tree.<\/p>\n

I was always well-liked by my peers and friendly with everyone in high school. Musically inclined, I often had leading roles in the musicals and solos in the choir concert. In the desire to create a Boston Pops holiday-style concert, the band director chose me as soloist one year for \u201cWhite Christmas.\u201d As the only Jewish student, the audience laughed heartily as I introduced the piece, noting how one of the most popular Christmas songs of all time was written by a Jew.\u00a0 Another performance found me skipping down the aisle followed by the spotlight, with my hair in pigtails and a Victorian-style nightgown, singing \u201cI Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus\u201d; it was all so much fun.<\/p>\n

It wasn\u2019t until a visit to Israel during winter break of my freshman year of college that I was informed \u2014 by a Jew who was not, herself, observant \u2014 that actual Jewish law only considers a child born to a Jewish mother to have the birthright status of a Jew.\u00a0 My newly-discovered non-Jewish status propelled me into weeks, months and years of introspection and desire for truth. The information was stated so calmly, as if it were common knowledge, yet the words penetrated my heart and I simply could not walk away accepting that I was not Jewish.<\/p>\n

I came to resent my parents. I felt they had denied me a real identity, subjecting me to be different \u2014 especially from the world of my mother\u2019s family and my school peers, around whom I felt most comfortable. And although I knew so little about what it meant to be authentically Jewish, I found my questioning met with disapproval by my parents and brothers. They still had complacency, and I was rocking the boat. I didn\u2019t know where I fit in or what I believed.<\/p>\n

I understand that my parents raised me the best way they could, and they gave me a happy childhood, but I couldn\u2019t stay protected by denying the truth forever; part of growing up is forming your own opinions and learning to think for yourself.<\/p>\n

From my searching, I ultimately chose to undergo an authentic Orthodox conversion, of which I am extremely proud. Yet proceeding with an authentic conversion wasn\u2019t an obvious choice to me at first, and I grappled with many of the newly-introduced Torah concepts.<\/p>\n

I found knowledgeable individuals willing to genuinely address my questions, though at times it took me longer to process the answers. I read a lot. I asked many questions. I challenged philosophies, and eventually broke down my own stereotypes. I took baby steps.<\/p>\n

And, I found a way of living that inspired me to maximize my potential by conscientiously striving to improve as a person. I became part of a larger purpose in the creation of the world. I found values I admired and intrinsically shared. I found truth, and I continue to be happy with my choice.<\/p>\n

I also realized that if I did not address honestly what it meant to be a Jew, my own children would also struggle with their identities. It was humbling to realize that my non-Jewish status effectively meant I had never done a single mitzvah in my life; yes, I was a nice person doing nice things, but only a Jew receives a reward specifically for the act of performing a mitzvah.<\/p>\n

I felt guilty that my grandmother\u2019s traditions would become lost, as I knew her recipes and genealogy far better than any of my siblings or cousins; she passed away before I officially decided to proceed with my conversion. My mother cried to me that she felt she was losing her daughter and could no longer relate to me. She was taken aback when so-called friends at their temple would make hurtful comments to her when she shared that I was considering an Orthodox conversion; individuals she knew to be academically educated, kind, and open-minded filled her thoughts with stereotypes to which she hadn\u2019t prior been exposed. My father barely acknowledged my struggle, except for \u201cyou have to live in the real world.\u201d<\/p>\n

It\u2019s been almost nine years since I was first informed of my non-Jewish status. It\u2019s been five-and-a-half years since I finished my conversion with a rabbinical court in Monsey, NY.<\/p>\n

To my parent\u2019s credit, they have accepted my decision to live as an Orthodox Jew; their actions speak louder than the emotional support that is lacking. I know they love me. To this day, my brothers tell me that they don\u2019t accept me and hate the word \u201cOrthodox.\u201d I feel they resent that I have security in my identity as they struggle, lacking any belief system amid the shallow values of secular society. They are jealous that I am happy.<\/p>\n

I have worked so hard over the years to make a kiddush Hashem<\/i>, to sanctify God\u2019s name, striving to be a mentsch<\/i>, and to remain proud and accepting of the life I have chosen. I continuously try to show my family that I am still authentically me (perhaps now an even more authentic version of myself) yet as this time of year reminds me the most that I chose to leave behind the customs and familiarity of my childhood, I feel lonely.<\/p>\n

I so miss the concept of family. And no matter how close I feel to mentors and friends, no matter how many families invite us for a Shabbat meal, there is a void. My husband and I purposely plan fun activities for December 24 and 25 to distract me.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m no longer a Jew living in captivity. I wake up every morning and fall asleep every night striving to live an authentic Jewish life, and to build an authentic Jewish home with my husband. And we are now expecting our first baby. And this child will<\/i> be passed the traditions of a grandmother \u2014 her name is Sara Imeinu<\/i>.<\/p>\n

As I\u2019ve found with time, my seasonal winter blues will pass. It\u2019s the return that haunts me. I\u2019ve been told a baby can bring the blessing of joy to dissolve family tensions.\u00a0 I can\u2019t expect this small person to fill the void in my life left by the lack of emotional support from my family, or deny that these few weeks of the year will someday never have any emotional effect on me whatsoever \u2014 but I can write this with peace in my heart, knowing that my baby is worth every step of my Jewish journey.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Some people are diagnosed with Seasonal Affective Disorder (S.A.D.), others experience \u201cwinter blues\u201d \u2014 both characteristically marked by feelings of melancholy and restlessness from the cold temperatures and lack of sun.\u00a0 Although I am not diagnosed with S.A.D, I do find myself \u201cseasonally affected\u201d in the days leading up to Thanksgiving through New Year\u2019s Day,<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1064,"featured_media":34284,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"_cloudinary_featured_overwrite":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[94],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-34281","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-news-op-ed"],"yoast_head":"\nI Lived the PEW Report - OU Life<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.ou.org\/life\/news-op-ed\/seasonally-affected\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"I Lived the PEW Report - 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