wary of ones
who think they’re right
those who are proud
yet filled with spite
wary of him,
the one who ghosts
the one that leaves,
infectious host
wary of them
the ones who lie
evil and wicked
woeful, unwise
wary of the high
still in the lows
always aware
enemies, foes
When I think back to when my interest in Judaism began, I first remember an elementary school project where we had to create pie charts about our ethnic backgrounds. If I remember correctly, I was tasked to call my grandparents to ask them as they were the most reliable source of lineage. My pie chart consisted of one-half German, one-quarter Irish, and one-quarter Dutch/French. Turns out, I was close but half of that German was actually Ashkenazi Jewish according to 23andMe.
Looking at the customs and traditions my family still has today, there are sprinkles of Judaism throughout. We served pickled herring as an appetizer before holiday meals. We always had fried matzoh with salami and onions on Christmas morning. And, we often join the many Jewish people in the North Shore who opted into the American custom of Chinese food and a movie at the theaters instead of staying home on Christmas as well.
But if I really think hard enough, there was a moment when I learned my grandfather was half-Jewish and I immediately felt like it was something that helped explain a feeling I had. I felt like I had something special inside of me that was small but unique. Most Jewish kids I knew had one or both parents who were Jewish and I had neither. But I did have my grandfather, even if he converted to Catholicism to appease my grandmother.
As we all well know, the North Shore of Milwaukee has a high Jewish population. I went through the Fox Point/Bayside school district and was able to learn more about the Jewish religion and customs through my friends. The 1990s and early 2000s were when school holidays started to be more progressive and by the time I got to Nicolet, Jewish holidays were pretty well represented on the school calendar.
Not only was this a great way to get more days off of school between the Christian holidays, but I was always inquisitive about what each holiday meant. So, I would ask my friends. Soon enough I was being invited to seders and eventually going to a lot of bar and bat mitzvahs and the interest continued to grow.
By the time I turned 13, I had been to bar/bat mitzvahs at most synagogues in town and had traveled for some to celebrate close family friends. These family friends were in Minneapolis/St. Paul and have always been so close to us I thought we were cousins when I was a kid. Moreover, they have a Jewish mom and a Catholic father, which helped me understand that a Jewish family is what you make it.
Throughout the first 16 years of my life, I was forced to go to Catholic Formation Class (CFC) at St. Eugene’s in Fox Point. Many of the kids in my CFC classes would become high school friends of mine, despite the cliques that existed between who went to which middle school. Many of those people are still in my life today, mainly over our mutual disdain for CFC and the process our parents were making us go through.
I can confidently say that most if not all of those CFC classmates are not practicing Catholics today, but went through the rites of ceremonies that I did. Some are a step beyond me with marriage, but most are not married in a Catholic church. Not to say that my parish didn’t do a good job, but we were certainly a group of obstinate teenagers. In fact, they had to change the entire format of the program because my class was so challenging. It went from weekly on Sundays to monthly on Wednesday nights because we were just too much to handle.
The last Catholic rite of ceremony I participated in was Confirmation. Different from other sects of Christianity and even some other Catholic churches, our Confirmation was at age 16 which happily coincided with the end of my junior year of high school. So, once I was a senior, I was rid of the responsibility of pretending to be the Catholic so many family members of mine were trying to make me be.
When I was in high school, I had a lot of different friend groups, never fully subscribing to one. There were the soccer girls, the student council kids, the swim team, the basketball boys, and the BBYO crew. Still friends with many individuals from those groups today, the Jewish girls were always the best influence on me and still are today. I consider myself lucky to have gone to a public high school like Nicolet with its diversity and academic excellence (at least back in 2000-2004). Plus it was 50% Jewish kids at the time in which I was enrolled which gave me more insight than most public school kids.
When it came to senior year and choosing colleges, I was totally clueless about where I wanted to go to school. Naturally, my parents wanted me to go to Madison and that was the last thing I wanted. I didn’t want to stay in Wisconsin and I wanted to create my own path in life. I always did well in my English and Creative Writing courses, so my college essay should have been a breeze. There was my favorite English teacher, Mr. Young, was notorious for using a yellow highlighter and using it as “yellow snow” whenever you wrote a cliche in your paper. I think I subconsciously bombed my college essay to Madison and Mr. Young’s red pen and yellow snow was all over the paper to prove it. But I submitted it anyway – I did not want to go to Madison and continue running in my high school circles so much so that I self-sabotaged. Not many people know that, but it was one of the biggest decisions that I ever made without consulting my friends or family first.
Everyone was shocked when I didn’t get into Madison, and honestly, I was too. I am a third-generation legacy who was Student Council President with good grades and sports on her resume – why wouldn’t she get in? Everyone blamed the class rank and the demographics of who gets in from our town versus smaller towns around the state. But I knew the real reason why.
A number of my Jewish friends were interested in Indiana University - Bloomington (IU) as it was a place known for a prominent Jewish population, a good business school, and much easier to get into than our own state school. I’m not sure if that’s the case anymore, but about 20 kids from Nicolet class of 2004 went to IU that year. And about half of those kids are Jewish.
We all stuck together as a little safety net from home while we were six hours away from everything we knew. Two of my closest girlfriends (who also grew up going to Congregation Sinai under Rabbi David Cohen which was a major part in my decision to go through this with him) joined the Jewish sorority AEPhi and we all quickly met a ton of other Jewish people on campus. I didn’t rush because Greek life just wasn’t for me, but I was at that sorority house enough that the kitchen staff didn’t think I was an outsider.
There were girls from Wisconsin, Illinois, Texas, New York, New Jersey, Ohio, California, and Alabama in the house and they all had this one major thing in common – all Jews. The older Jewish kids from Milwaukee would have us all over for holidays and sometimes Shabot and it became like a little chosen family of chosen people. It was wonderful.
After the dorms, I always had at least one Jewish girl roommate – I feel more comfortable around Jews for whatever reason. Junior year second semester I studied abroad in Athens, Greece. Oddly enough, the only two Jewish kids were the first friends I made on the airplane without even mentioning it. One of those friends became a very big part of my life. It’s this cosmic pull that Jewish people seem to have – wherever you go you can find the other Jewish person in the room.
I was lucky that my semester ended a week before my good friend was ending her semester at Hebrew University in Israel. It was a quick plane ride from Athens to Tel Aviv where I was met at 4 a.m. by my friend and her new boyfriend. I couldn’t see much on the way to Jerusalem but could slowly start to see the city upon arrival. Once I finally made my way out of jet lag and out into the streets, the feeling was electric. It was all around me!
I spent the week with my friend, her parents, and all of her friends from the program. We celebrated Shabbat, drove to Haifa, stopped by the Dead Sea, spent a day in Tel Aviv, toured the Jewish sector of the old city, went to the Wailing Wall, and ate endlessly wonderful Kosher meals. I even had a quick romance with a boy who was studying to be a rabbi! It was more than I had ever experienced in one week of my life and I had just gotten off the plane after six months in Greece.
That’s when I really started to feel the connection to Judaism beyond my bloodline. I had been to so many places and lived in one of the most ancient cities in the world, but Israel felt different. I think anyone who's been would agree with what I’m describing. At that time I was one of very few non-Jews in my circle who had been to Israel and I considered it a bragging right.
Since then, I’ve been lucky to go back to Israel for a fabulous gay wedding in Tel Aviv, and also returning to Jerusalem. I stood up at this wedding reading a Torah portion in English next to the female rabbi. Shaking with nerves, this was one of the biggest honors of my life. I’m planning on going back sometime soon after my mikveh this summer. It’s truly a magical place on Earth, and not just for the Jews.
After college, I taught English in Thailand and always noticed the synagogues wherever there was one. After that program ended, I returned to Milwaukee in the middle of a recession and had no job experience which was a major comedown from my travels. My mother had moved to Stamford, Connecticut already and I decided to join her out East to start a new life in New York City.
I was lucky to have a network of friends and family in New York that could help me assimilate into the big city. I had friends from home, college, studying abroad, and teaching abroad – I was set. I got into The New School for a Media Studies program and worked every odd job one could until I found my first full-time job with benefits. I worked there for three years and was laid off in 2015. From there, I worked endless freelance gigs to make money and build my resume but never found something stable to keep me in New York. After ten years of some of the best and worst times of my life, I decided to come home to Milwaukee.
My identity at the time was being the girl who knew everything about New York and everyone in it. I could write a book or two about the exciting tales that were my 20s. So, when I had to move back in with my mother who also went back to Milwaukee, I was completely lost. I referred to a close family friend psychologist about who to talk to in Milwaukee that could help me sort out my thoughts and feelings. I became a patient of a wonderful Jewish woman who is still my psychologist to this day.
I had spent years partying in New York where it was much more acceptable than a city like Milwaukee. But this time I was continuing to use the substances without going to the parties. I had fallen into a dark depression and was abusing alcohol and failing at interpersonal relationships. After years of therapy and slow progress, Laurie and I thought it would be best to take a bigger next step. I decided to do something drastic during COVID and sent myself to an in-patient facility in Tucson, Arizona. Thankfully, my family gave me the money to spend 30 days focusing on myself, my triggers, my vices, and my path forward.
Every patient is assigned a small group with whom they meet every day at treatment. Sure enough, my small group was led by a Jewish woman and there were at least three Jewish people in the group at any time. That was not the case for any other group. I don’t know if the facility did that on purpose or if it was Kismet, but it’s those three other people who had the most impact on me. In that group is when I really decided I wanted to officially make the leap of faith and find a way to own my Judaism.
After my time in Arizona, I was still lost but was definitely looking in the right direction. I still struggle with my inner demons as we all do. This is when I made the decision to start the conversion process. I was looking to find something beyond me to hold on to when times get tough. When I began my mission to convert to Judaism, I interviewed three different rabbis in the area – one very liberal, one moderate, and one conservative as I thought of it. And, as you know, I ended up with the moderate or the reform rabbi.
I’ve known Rabbi Cohen since I was a kid because those Jewish kids I grew up with all went through their rites of ceremony with him. I went to bat mitzvahs of friends I still have today. I went to the funerals of their grandparents at Congregation Sinai. And, I even popped over to his house once or twice when one of my friends was babysitting his kids. I knew him, but I didn’t know him.
The first call I had with Rabbi Cohen went over the hour because he was so easy to talk to. We have a lot in common with our interests and time spent out East and in the Midwest. It just felt right. After a couple of months of talking, I took the URJ online course over several months to complete Intro to Judaism. After taking his “test” and coming to Sinai events, I am making my way towards my mikveh.
To me, being Jewish means I’m solidifying what I already feel is part of my identity. I’ve always been someone who likes to make choices and not have them forced upon me, so this is one hundred percent my choice. And, I could argue, it chose me. I want to be a part of a community of faith but also one of culture. While I might not know where this journey will take me and how seriously I will take the religious steps, I want to be on the ride. This is something I am doing for myself that I think will help me whenever dark times come again. Furthermore, I have some health concerns that coincide with fertility issues and I want to have my base secure before going into any major surgeries coming up. I want my version of g-d with me in the operating room. So, the decision has been made – I’m converting.
So, what does my life look like after I convert? Under good advice, I was reminded that this is not the end of the process but rather the beginning. Looking forward, I want to celebrate Jewish holidays with my friends and their families, perhaps someday celebrating with a family of my own. My core group of friends (who are Jewish) from high school who are Jewish will be home this year for Rosh Hashanah and I’m considering throwing myself some kind of bat mitzvah to celebrate with them. Over time, I plan to make Shabbat dinners a staple in my household and really take the time to rest and reflect on my new sabbath. I need to get back into reading and want to learn more about Jewish life and history as I have been throughout the duration of this process. And finally, I would love to return to Israel as a Jewish person and see it through a new lens.
I am overwhelmed by the confidence I have in this decision and I want to be Sandy Reitman, the Jew.
I have some memory of learning about the seven-year cycles of our lives, but I cannot remember the context. Honestly, I think it was from a hairdresser when discussing the changes in hair texture every seven years, but I have no facts to back that up.
Regardless, I am noticing huge changes in me and my life every seven years. Now that I’m 35, I’ve been through five cycles of seven years, and looking back on those five, they are distinctly different. This past week I had three major life events happen, one bad and two great following it. Some would say the stars are aligning, which is what reminded me of this seven-year cycle. After a quick Google search, I found a Well + Good article explaining further into the astrological shift that explains this concept.
https://www.wellandgood.com/7-year-cycle/
To summarize, Uranus and Saturn are mainly associated with this seven-year cycle of change.
Uranus: "It's about really getting to the bottom of changing things around when things are too stagnant. Whenever Uranus shifts signs, it really takes things to a huge octave of change."
Saturn: “It wants us to grow and evolve into our most authentic selves and nudges us to step into that with a big dose of tough love.”
Honestly, my last seven years have been filled with a lot of pain and disappointment, and with huge growth along the way. I’ve been asking for a break and working towards being better. Today, it feels like it might all be leading to the next seven-year cycle with Uranus and Saturn aligning in a way that might push my life trajectory into more love and light.
My title and alliteration for this post comes from watching far too many teen dramadies on streaming services where all they talk about is sex. Thinking back to what television 90s kids had growing up, we didn’t learn much about sex unless you had cable or the coveted HBO. Anyway, this post is not about sex.
So many of my peers live alone and almost have no accountability or motivation during these bleak times of COVID. We’ve all moved to more remote places and aren’t too keen about going to the gym during COVID-19, plus we lives in cold weather places. How do we find a way to mutually motivate each other without landing on any internally sensitive landmines?
I had a call with an old friend who has very poor bedside manner, but he is very smart and thoughtful. He’s one of those men who has been through a lot of self-reflection and mental health issues, so he legitimately knows what he’s talking about, but telling your friend she looks “big” is something that could be finessed. He’s not wrong — I’ve gained about 25 pounds. Due to mental health issues, medication changes, two surgeries for a broken clavicle, and minimal work from home, I am a victim of quarantine weight gain. To be fair, I had a good 35-year run of treating my body like shit so I can’t be mad at it for reacting to a year of sitting on the couch.
Now my question is, where can I find motivation to get up, go to the gym, be active, make better choices, and break some habits that got me here in the first place? I’ve been on my own forever and am finding the “pick yourself up by your bootstraps” mentality exhausting — I need outside voices to push me. But, I’m not sure that’s my friends, family, or peers. Fad diets and expensive exercise classes don’t actually work, so it’s time to make a plan.
Plan to come — more head.
I made it a goal of mine to write something today, and the writing sample for a freelance gig about pets isn’t hitting my creative button.
Unemployment and job searching seems to never end in my life. I have the resumes to get the interviews, but now I seem to be at a stage that I’m either too experienced or haven’t stayed at one place long enough to get people to pull the trigger.
After years of rejection and boatloads of therapy, I’ve learned how to see interviews that didn’t end in an offer as lenses into where I really want my career to go. While a brand might be one I like, the role might not be one I love. The best thing about this pandemic is the move to more online remote work, which is what my line of work should have been for a long time now.
Today’s daily meditation was about waiting…
So we wait.
It's been a while since I've taken the time to sit down and write something that wasn't bringing in a paycheck. Writing can be funny that way -- while you might want to do it, it's hard to do after a day of doing it.
As I enter my second year of freelancing and permalancing in this uneasy political environment, I feel confident and unsure about my career all at the same time. As health insurance is battled and rights are questioned, I can't help but wonder what the world will look like for me as a contracted employee.
My response to it -- tap into everyone you know to keep the work coming in. It's true what they say, "You are who you know." And, after nearly ten years in New York City, I know a lot of people across many different industries. And, as I've been told so many times over, writing is a skill that people value, but often isn't paid well.
So, I'm taking every opportunity I can to write, to build my portfolio, and to prove myself across industries to hopefully one day work for myself and unchain myself from the desks of corporate life.
I never understood the mentality of people who wanted to rest on Friday nights "after a long week of work." Isn't that the point of a Friday night - to go out after a long week of work?
I turned 30 this year and was probably just as excited as I was to turn 16, 18, 21 and 25. To me, it was a milestone I was looking forward to hitting. I celebrated in true fire sign fashion with a week-long party in the sun with my friends. Now that the party is over, I think I understand more of what "being 30" really feels like. And, it feels old.
I don't feel old in a more mature way, or that I understand the world and its complexities any better than I did when I was in my twenties. But, I actually feel older. Gone are the days of a nonstop party weekend followed by a swift recovery and an accomplished work week. I never valued sleep in my first 30 years as I do now (but maybe that's attributed to a quiet room and a good mattress these days).
I really never got the "Mondays are the worst" sentiment in the office place, but now I do. You realize you likely wasted a good amount of time over the weekend doing what you wanted to do, instead of what you should be doing. To me, Tuesdays are no better.
I suppose "working for the weekend" literally means making the money I need to enjoy myself on weekends, and to rest up for the long weekend ahead.
I've always been of the school of thought to leave politics off the table of conversation. Perhaps it was because I was raised by seemingly liberal parents who vote Republican and I identify as a moderate who ultimately is a raging liberal. Either way, I have always kept my political beliefs known but quiet.
This year, I moved in with my dear friend Matt who is very politically charged. Over the years, I've seen him get riled up about politics with friends, parents, strangers, really anyone who will take his ear. I never envied this quality about Matt until he introduced me to Bernie Sanders and what is now looking like a true political revolution.
Last night, we went to Bernie Sanders' rally in Manhattan's Washington Square Park. We waiting in line for hours to get into the actual park, making friends and having conversations along the way. It was perhaps one of the nicest groups of people I've ever seen gather in New York City. See, I've marched the streets, walked for causes, and listened to speeches but I've never actually been to a political rally. This one was for the books.
Nearly 30,000 people came together sporting Bernie hats, stickers, t-shirts, costume heads, signs and nearly anything else to show their support. We shared tight quarters with Latino 30-somethings, Asian men who didn't speak English in their 50s, young black lesbian couples, a seemingly wealthy white family from Manhattan, and Indian children too young to vote with their parents, all who believe in the possibility of change and who totally #FeelTheBern.
While everyone was excited about every statement Bernie shouted through the microphone, there was one moment that truly stuck out to me. He was speaking about equal pay for women in America and how men need to support it as well saying we want "the whole damn dollar!" instantly coining a new catchphrase that I'm sure will follow him to the end. Whenever that might be.
As the election comes closer, I feel myself more inclined to share my political thoughts on social media and to be more active in an election that will surely make history one way or another - Trump, Cruz, Clinton or Bernie as it stands now. While I do #FeelTheBern, I must also say I've been a Hillary supporter for many years, even voting for her over Obama in the 2004 primaries. I continue to love and support Obama and believe either candidate will help carry on his legacy, but for now I'm sticking with my man Bernie. Regardless of the outcome, I'm certain that everything Bernie has ignited in American dialogue will continue even beyond the confines of the rally gates.
I've always been someone who gets silently stressed out. I guess I was taught that stress is something you handle yourself and don't inflict on others. Like every self-help book and blog will tell you, everyone manifests stress differently. This is especially apparent in the workplace.
While I could go into the details of how my coworkers have handled stress over the years, it's irrelevant. The one common theme is that people seem to think the more stressed you are, the more important the work that you're doing. Since when does it mean you do your work better if it seems more impossible to do? I was always under the assumption that if you're really good at your job, it's probably pretty easy for you to do. Sure, it can be time consuming and things get chaotic at times, but why does that have to lead to extreme stress?
Personally, I deal with my stress by going out and doing non-stressful things. I don't know many other people who handle it this way, but I wouldn't necessarily recommend it. I end up exhausted, regretful and usually with a lot less money in the bank. But, it does usually make for a good time.
I hate to sound like the ultimate millennial, but I recently found myself in a yoga class that really has taught me how to deal with stress -- by breathing through it. Thanks to ClassPass, I discovered kundalini yoga where you work on relieving stress through breath and relaxing the mind through stretching the body. I've always been one to sigh to let out whatever emotions I might be having in that moment (people used to ask me if I was OK a lot in school), but this harnesses it in a way I haven't found before.
I often find myself telling stressed out people to "relax" which is always met with anger, but perhaps I should start telling them to "breathe" because you can't argue with that!
Everywhere I look, I'm reading about the increase in freelancers in America. People are calling it the "gig culture" and it's causing a stir amongst those who have only ever known the full-time 9-5 workforce of our parents' generation.
I've found myself in this "gig culture" on-and-off over the years in New York City. I worked a lot of gigs throughout my grad school years to make some extra cash while in classes full-time. I worked anything from hostessing at a restaurant to online styling for an app, handing out theatre flyers in Times Square to cater-waitering. It's true what they say -- you can do anything in this city to make money.
After graduating grad school (and six months of unemployment), I landed my first big girl, full-time job at a dot com. It wasn't exactly what I wanted to be doing, but it was health insurance, experience, and a paycheck. Three years later, I was miserable and ready to move on but unsure where to go.
I always wanted to be a writer. Whether I was writing short stories in elementary school or news features in college, I knew I wanted to spend my time writing. But, I could never really figure out how to make that happen.
It took me three years of a job I didn't enjoy, a couple classes, and a stint of being unemployed to realize I was the only person who was going to make my writing career happen. I wasn't going to be discovered and no one was really just reading my tweets thinking I'm hilarious (besides a few loyal friends). So, I started emailing and networking and "putting my feet to the pavement" to make this dream come true.
Networking, as they say, is the strongest tool to getting you to where you want to be. Every freelance job I've gotten since leaving the full-time workforce has been through someone I know. And, I've gotten many of my friends freelance work as well. My advice is not to only reach out to your contacts when you want a favor, but to keep an on-going friendly relationship that serves you both personally and professionally.
In a city like this, filled with qualified freelancers, someone is bound to chose a friend over a distant contact when the next "gig" pops up.