You are not who you think you are.
Someone I care very deeply about told me this recently during a heated argument. The words have been haunting me ever since. Before the last couple of months, I would have told you that I know exactly who I am.
I’m the only child of a single mom and I can be stubborn and reluctant to ask for help, but I’m working on that.
I’m a Jew by Choice and a Jew of Color who, despite any negative experiences, still loves her community who is her family now. I have set down roots and this is my home now.
I’m a perpetual student, curious and always trying to learn something new. I probably love school a little too much, considering I’m going to start studying for my third Masters soon, but I want to serve my community better.
I’m an educator. I love being a librarian and archivist. If you ask, I can give you a pretty good overview of Dallas Jewish history and a damn good summary of Temple’s history. I love teaching fourth grade Judaica and finding new ways to engage them. It’s a joy and a privilege to contribute to their budding Jewish identities. I’ve come full circle and now manage the conversion program, which has been incredibly fulfilling and I love being a small part of someone’s Jewish journey and introducing them to this remarkable congregation and community.
I try to be a good person. I try to make my small corner of the world a better place. I try to live my life according to Jewish values. Sometimes I don’t do that so well, but I’m trying.
I think I’m a good friend or I at least try to be. I’ve always had a hard time making and keeping friends, but I have a small and growing group of people who I am close to and know I can count on them always. I hope they know how much I love them and how grateful I am to be their friend.
And now? I’m not sure of anything anymore. As I told a friend last night, I’m “a confused thirty-something whose life is a goddamn mess.” I’m trying the best I can and seemingly falling short everywhere.