Yom Kippur 2021.
Yom Kippur has long been my favorite Jewish holiday. Long before “authenticity” was a buzzword, Yom Kippur invited us to come as we are, take stock of our wrongdoings, and ask for forgiveness. I appreciate that we have an opportunity to start anew each year, and especially resonate with the inherent growth mindset. We don’t just “forgive and forget” the past year of sins. We genuinely reach out to those we harmed; we humble ourselves and take steps toward self-improvement. Back in college, I started the practice of writing an annual Yom Kippur reflection. What follows is an excerpt from my Yom Kippur reflection of 2011. The through lines are almost eerily apparent (see below). I met M seven months later.
“On this holy day when you are asked to elevate yourself, symbolism feels especially paramount. Just as we’re preparing to ask that we be inscribed in the book of life (Friday morning), I wake up sick to my stomach. And appropriately, I ask why? I try to work, I try to fulfill my everyday obligations, but I can’t. Lesson learned. I’ve been saying for a while that I need to match my time and energy to my priorities, but I’ve been reluctant to actually sacrifice work related efforts for my physical, emotional, or spiritual health. Instead I try to maximize every hour and stuff too much into every day. Yesterday proved that this technique isn’t working. Yesterday I had to choose – cram in the work that I had planned for the day, or nap so I could recover and observe Yom Kippur. Apparently I can’t do it all, so here’s to a year of making more balanced choices.
And here’s to a year of welcomed change and transition. 2010 was such a rollercoaster that I think I needed a calm 2011 to recover. But now that I’ve had a year of hedonic stability, I’m ready for the intensity of life… for the intensity that is inherently me. My therapist and I often talk about my attempts to manage intensity over the years. Even as a child I recognized that my feelings could be overwhelming; whether it was bad anticipation or good excitement it could make me sick. So I learned to downplay my excitement and to expect little (so I could avoid disappointment). As an adolescent and young adult I learned that despite my best efforts, love inevitably brought out my full range of emotions. So this year, whether consciously or unconsciously, I processed everything (including romance) through a cognitive filter and avoided both intense pain and intense joy. I’ve had a very fulfilling year of accomplishment, adventure, and beautiful friendships, but I miss me. I cried maybe 2 times this year, and I was seldom overwhelmed with joy. And that’s not me. I’m someone who is moved to tears by beauty (especially Rachmaninoff), and most importantly I’m someone who loves with my entire being. After 2010 I think that part of me went into hiding. On some level I’m afraid that if I let myself feel I won’t be able to regulate those emotions. And even scarier, I’m afraid that if someone were to see my intensity they would run away.
Well, I’m done being afraid. I need to trust that my friends, family, and future partner will embrace me for who I am. And most importantly, I need to trust that I am who I was meant to be.”
My 26 year old self was definitely on to something. Here are those through lines:
What a privilege it is to decide how I spend my time and energy! I am so grateful to my 26 year old self for beginning the work of reallocating those resources to match my priorities. I weaned the workaholic wolf 10 years ago, so I could nourish my soul and eventually my children.
I still protect myself by dampening my emotions. J has taught me to embrace the beauty of BIG feelings, even if it makes me more vulnerable to hurt and disappointment. Making room for her whole self has forced me to live into the trust that I could only imagine ten years ago.
Israel 2011
