It took me three or four years from the first time I printed out a passport application until finally, a few months ago, I went to the post office with my pre-filled-out application, had my official picture taken, and paid all of the fees. The impetus that finally pushed me on my way was the possibility of going on my synagogue’s trip to Israel, and even though I realized that this particular trip was not for me, I realized it was time to apply for my passport anyway, just in case.
And then, a couple of days after I posted about the-trip-I-couldn’t-take on the blog, my best friend from high school renewed her offer to host me at her home in Israel, and take time off from work to travel around the country with me, wherever I wanted to go. I’d actually forgotten that she’d suggested such a trip a few years ago. At the time, I don’t think I believed her offer was real, or I thought it shouldn’t be, because she has her own business, and family, and a full life of her own, and I just couldn’t imagine interrupting all of that. But looking back, I think the real reason I didn’t accept the offer was because I just wasn’t ready. I couldn’t have told you why I wasn’t ready, or what would have to change to make me more ready, but this time, when she offered, I believed her, and I said yes. And, when my passport arrived in the mail a few weeks ago, I realized that I am really, finally, going to Israel.
Of course, being me, now I’m thinking about all of the things that could go wrong on the trip. I printed out a pile of articles on what to pack, and where to go, and what to wear, and I filled my YouTube watchlist with videos on how to pack medications and what to put in your carry on and what to wear on the plane, and yet, I still haven’t scared myself out of going on the trip. It helps that I have some time to prepare. We chose November for my visit because that’s when she has a lighter workload, and the weather is more manageable for me, and flights are cheaper, and there are no big Jewish holidays to complicate things. I feel guilty for planning to go during the school year, and missing one or two classes with my students as a result, but even that guilt hasn’t been enough to derail me, so far.
There’s still so much research to do, and so many decisions to make, and so many opportunities for the panic to overwhelm me. I worry that airport security will want to see all of the prescriptions for my meds, in case I’m hiding opiates in the midst of all of my other pills; and what if I can’t make sense of the Gett app (their version of uber), or the currency exchange rate, or public transportation, and I end up having a panic attack in the middle of the light rail in Jerusalem? And then I wonder if I should make the trip shorter, to reduce the potential causes of anxiety, or if it should be longer, so I can take more time to settle in before trying to do anything too exciting. And then I wonder what I should bring back for my students, and a little voice inside keeps asking, why can’t mommy come with me? And then I think, wouldn’t it be better to win the lottery first, or to wait for a group trip so that someone else can make all of the decisions for me?
With all of my research, I now know that I will need flight insurance, and travel insurance, but I want to know where I can get mental health insurance, or better yet, an app that will figure out when I’m spiraling and send help when I fall apart in the middle of the Carmel market.
I’m trying to keep my expectations for the trip low, so I won’t fall into a deep depression when I inevitably fail to make it the best experience of my entire life. I’d like to think of this more as the first in a series of trips, and a chance to acclimate to the country and plan future adventures. That way, as long as I get the chance to walk through one of the outdoor markets, and shop for new-to-me foods in the supermarket, and sit by the beach or in a café, listening to the different accents swirling all around me, everything beyond that will just feel like a bonus.
The reality is, going on this trip with my good friend is the best part of the plan, because she won’t expect me to suddenly have the energy to climb Masada or swim in the Dead Sea. And if what I really want to do one day is go to the supermarket to search for new snacks and then watch Israeli TV all day, she’ll be right there with me. And, really, if I have a panic attack in the middle of Tel Aviv, I won’t need a mental health app to scoop me up, because she’ll be there to look me in the eye and remind me that the earth not going to swallow me up and with a few deep breaths, and maybe a nap, I really will be okay, and probably better than okay, even on my own power.
Now, back to worrying about what to pack.
If you haven’t had a chance yet, please check out my novel, Yeshiva Girl, on Amazon. And if you feel called to write a review of the book, on Amazon, or anywhere else, I’d be honored.
Yeshiva Girl is about a Jewish teenager on Long Island, named Isabel, though her father calls her Jezebel. Her father has been accused of inappropriate sexual behavior with one of his students, which he denies, but Izzy implicitly believes it’s true. As a result of his problems, her father sends her to a co-ed Orthodox yeshiva for tenth grade, out of the blue, and Izzy and her mother can’t figure out how to prevent it. At Yeshiva, though, Izzy finds that religious people are much more complicated than she had expected. Some, like her father, may use religion as a place to hide, but others search for and find comfort, and community, and even enlightenment. The question is, what will Izzy find?
rachelmankowitz 