Someone asked me if I'm going to spend Sukkos in Eretz Yisroel. As if I don't have a job here I have a responsibility to and must put in some hours erev yuntif and chh"m. (Plus seems like working those times makes this easier.) But either way, the last time I was in Israel was actually a little painful for me. Don't get me wrong, I'm in love with the Land, and I have some pretty cute kiddies over there I wish I saw more often, but everyone there is...married. If they're Israeli, they're married by 17, and all the Americans, aside from the young'uns, are there with their spouse. I just don't fit in.
As much as they're special and joyous times, at this stage, Yamim Tovim hurt. They're hard. A time that's focused on family (which I obviously do not yet have), a time that everyone packs into a house that wasn't meant for a growing number of couples and their cute, but rambunctious, kids, a time that everything that I do gets disdainfully judged by sheltered and self-righteous relatives, but mostly the fact that I'm still not married gets rubbed in my face, and I try to find my place within all the gaiety.
Just because I'm here without a spouse doesn't negate that I'm an adult, just like every other adult here. That does not mean that I would like to share a room, babysit your children, or do all your errands. Please don't tell me what to do, the young marrieds (who I will add, some of which, are younger than me) don't get that treatment.
It's Shabbos, and the silverware, having just been washed, is in a jumble. Female family member in question looks at me and says, "I can't set the table with this, it's boreir. Learn the halachos." Uh, m'yad, b'yad, oichel m'toch p'soles. I have the same Bais Yaakov education as you do. I didn't forget Hilchos Shabbos just because high school was a long time ago and I went to college after seminary. You learn the halachos. "Okay, well, happy to be your Shabbos goy. I'll do it myself."
You would think that everyone's learned their lesson by now and would have ceased making comments like "Next yuntif you'll be here with your husband." I feel left out and lonely and incomplete, all without your help. Don't be an unwitting Penina; I'm in enough pain as it is.
All I want is to share in the simcha. I want a husband and children to nurture, love and support (emotionally) –– a family of my own –– instead of just watching everyone else's from the sidelines. I want to unpause my life, create a bayis with someone I cherish and respect, bring the Shechinah into our home and to our own Shabbos table. I want a chelek in Torah and to teach my kids love of Hashem and Yiddishkeit. They are all spiritually worthy goals...
Just because I'm here without a spouse doesn't negate that I'm an adult, just like every other adult here. That does not mean that I would like to share a room, babysit your children, or do all your errands. Please don't tell me what to do, the young marrieds (who I will add, some of which, are younger than me) don't get that treatment.
It's Shabbos, and the silverware, having just been washed, is in a jumble. Female family member in question looks at me and says, "I can't set the table with this, it's boreir. Learn the halachos." Uh, m'yad, b'yad, oichel m'toch p'soles. I have the same Bais Yaakov education as you do. I didn't forget Hilchos Shabbos just because high school was a long time ago and I went to college after seminary. You learn the halachos. "Okay, well, happy to be your Shabbos goy. I'll do it myself."
You would think that everyone's learned their lesson by now and would have ceased making comments like "Next yuntif you'll be here with your husband." I feel left out and lonely and incomplete, all without your help. Don't be an unwitting Penina; I'm in enough pain as it is.
All I want is to share in the simcha. I want a husband and children to nurture, love and support (emotionally) –– a family of my own –– instead of just watching everyone else's from the sidelines. I want to unpause my life, create a bayis with someone I cherish and respect, bring the Shechinah into our home and to our own Shabbos table. I want a chelek in Torah and to teach my kids love of Hashem and Yiddishkeit. They are all spiritually worthy goals...
On Simchas Torah as I will stand around with my (long since) married friends watching their husbands and kids whirl around celebrating something that comes from a sense of accomplishment and resulting joy, I wonder will I ever have a chance at celebrating/supporting Torah like that?
Same here; if "he" shuts up from pity, I'll take it!
ReplyDeletePerfectly expressed that which I feel—the spiritual longing to connect with a life partner and raise children in the ways that I was raised, and my grandparents were raised. I thought that was my purpose. But I realized that if spouses and children come from the Eibishter, that means that (a) He has His reasons for holding off and (b) I can fulfill my purpose beyond that.
Because I have time (the way many singles do) I can delve more into yumim tovim and appreciate them with meaning, as opposed to by rote. I hum as I decorate the sukkah, savoring the experience all the more with the help of shiurim like this one:
https://www.torahanytime.com/#/lectures?v=13522
Definitely. It is important to recognize that we have much more purpose than just to get married and bear children. It's just hard at times for me, because no matter what sort of fulfilling activity I'm doing, as a Jewish female (multiplied by the fact that I'm an ENFJ) I have this drive to give, connect, and nurture. (Other giving/connecting/nurturing outlets aren't the same as having a spouse, children, family.)
DeleteYes, Hashem runs the world and has a plan for every single person. We're meant to do the best we can with the circumstances we have. However, that doesn't negate the fact that it hurts because it feels like there isn't a place in frum society for singles, when it feels like my life is on pause and there is nothing I can do to become unstuck, and that I'm feeling lonely and feeling left out.
Yomtif is always a hard time for single people or those whose families aren't as functional as they seem. Being a single on yomtif is like looking out a window to a beautiful scenery that you can't actually go out and experience. You could see all the beauty and maybe even hear the sounds of the outdoors, but there is a barrier between yourself and the pleasurable experience. The barrier of course is caused by the pain. The pain of feeling like somehow Hashem lost your address when delivering the "male"-(pun intended), the pain of watching everyone else' life script proceed to the next chapter while your stuck on the same endless one. The only "simcha" we could try to gain during this "zeman" is the total belief that this single road we are walking on was paved and designed just for each single person. At any point the designer of our path can send our husbands to walk along side with but for today I can accept that this is the direction for me. The simach I feel today is knowing that this is my path for today and the hope that it could change at any point.
DeleteI'm in the same boat; I feel the same pain. And, I, the INFJ, also yearn to give, connect, and nurture.
DeleteWarrior—great pun.
Don't get me wrong: I also feel stuck. I also feel on pause. Yet the Eibishter wouldn't ask us to be b'simcha if we weren't capable of being so. My grandparents, survivors, relished every Shabbos and yuntiff, even though they probably associated it with past memories of their demolished homes, parents, siblings, children. I feel the pain, but I can still achieve parallel simcha.
SingledOut - Nice analogies!
DeleteSingledOut & PL - To both your points, I don't think that being single completely hinders experiencing joy on yuntif. I think we absolutely can tap into the simcha of Sukkos if we try to. Yuntif is just particularly painful because it rubs what we're missing in our faces (and of course happiness comes from feeling fulfilled - in a large part family...giving/connecting/nurturing).
I like the window analogy, but is this pain really that intense that I can't feel ANY happiness? And, is there really a rigid dichotomy between joy and pain? I think they can both exist.
Perhaps feeling happy just takes a lot of extra work when there is something that hurts so much. That's the difference of feeling the pain, accepting it, and trying to move forward, versus ignoring or numbing it and then missing out on the happiness too. (Brene Brown's you cannot selectively numb emotions.)
As hard as it is, I guess it's about finding that simcha that comes from this closeness to Hashem that we've procured following the Yaamim Noraim. We can't let pain be a steira to that.
Joy and Pain coexist. It's Zman Simchaseinu even if it hurts.