Writing Post #5

My first semester of freshman year of college was a semester of a lot of firsts. My first time away from home. My first time out of the country. But one first I thought a little less about was my first time not celebrating many Jewish holidays I had celebrated my whole life. The semester I spent abroad in London was a busy one. I was adapting to a new environment with new people and frankly, I lost track of time. I’d look at my calendar on Yom Kippur and think about how I should be doing something for it as I was forced to do my whole life, but then I realized something freeing. I don’t have to celebrate these holidays.

That semester passed and I came home only to celebrate the winter holidays as I always do. When I returned to school for the second semester I kept up the trend of not celebrating these holidays. I never thought much of it until I realized I had sort of lost my religious identity. I chose to do what I did. No one was forcing my hand. Yet I just couldn’t help but feel weird about the whole situation. On the one hand, I felt fine. I didn’t believe in religion nor find comfort in the holidays or traditions, so why would I feel the need to celebrate? On the other hand, I had stopped doing something I had done for 18 years of my life and couldn’t help but feel guilty when I lied to my mother, telling her I fasted on Yom Kippur. I think that it all goes back to this idea of being afraid of change.

When I became an adult I realized I had this newfound sense of freedom, which was a little scary, but also very powerful at the same time. Instead of feeling empowered by the changes I was making and the sense of independence I had, I felt afraid. People are scared of change. It's human nature. But without change, one cant grow. I needed to find my own sense of religion away from the one I was raised with in order to feel like my own person and separate from my life back in my hometown. My shift in religion signaled the ending of one part of life and the start of one of the many aspects of adulthood, being authentically me.