An Ignoble Comeback
Hashem works in mysterious ways. Suddenly the flusher on the toilet is stiff and it takes a lot of effort to push it down and flush. We wanted to blame the new cleaning lady but she came on Friday and it only malfunctioned yesterday.
I’ve been meaning to write for ages. There are half-formed sentences floating around in my brain and half-formed paragraphs written and random papers, littering my desk. I always mean to finish up, type up and post. Somehow, it hasn’t happened until now. All it took is on pretentious commentator to get me up and writing.
On Friday I received an email from WordPress asking me to moderate a comment on a previous blog post titled Tomorrow. The comment read: That a Jewish person can even think about suicide is mind-boggling. The first emotion that came up after read this was indignation. I felt the comment was belittling the suffering that this individual was going through. I then took a step back and realized that the commentator had a point. The truth is, in Judaism, committing suicide is one of the worst sins a person can commit. Hashem gave a person life as a gift and Hashem is the only one who can take it back. If someone were to learn about it from within the good books, suicide would become unfathomable.
Although the tone of the comment threw me off, I conceded that he (I don’t know by whom the comment was written; for some reason I’m assuming he is a male.) was right. However I decided not to let the post through because of the critical tone. I also felt that this blog is not the proper forum for a discussion about suicide.
The next comment, by the same person, hurt more, probably because the judgement was placed on me and not someone else. The commentator dismissed my whole struggle of being stuck in a Rut by saying that speaking negatively breeds negativity and therefore I shouldn’t speak about being in a rut because that is precisely what places me in the rut.
Dear Sir, the blog post was about leaving the rut, about letting go, of redeeming myself from negativity and moving towards creativity, towards positivity. That was the message behind the post. By looking at looking at how much my life had changed for the better, that is what enabled me to leave the rut that held me back. Is that positive enough for you? Or did you not read the post thoroughly before you passed judgment?
Deep breaths. It’s okay. What other people say doesn’t have to matter. I thought I was able to let this all go. But then on Motzei Shabbos he left a third comment on my A little bit about me and my writing. Here is the exact quote: I this and I that. That is not a Chassidish mindset. IN fact, it not even represents a Jewish approach. That you call the community you grew up in “insular” and “sheltered” is quite inaccurate. The community did not insulate you. You merely seek to blame the community for your feelings of guilt for having left the fold. No one stopped you from leaving, did they, young lady? Write on, but write truthfully, even if it hurts.”
I don’t even know where to begin. I think I should make a disclaimer that I am indeed Frum and I have not left the fold. When describing the community I grew up in as insular I wasn’t speaking of the Frum community at large, rather within the one I grew up in. Regardless of me and where I stand in life, I still maintain that that the specific community in which I was raised is insular and sheltered. As for writing truthfully, I pride myself with my honesty. Some may say that I am honest to a fault. I believe that all of my writings (and in other aspects of my life as well) are honest and truthful.
Like I said before, Hashem works in mysterious ways. It took a judgmental individual to rile me up enough to actually sit down and write. So what is the point of this post (Other than giving power to this person who I want to take hold of by the shoulders and shake him until some sense is knocked into him.)? Definitely, to vent. It doesn’t feel good to be judged by anyone, especially someone who only has snippets of information about you. Other than that, I suppose, this is my ignoble comeback. Hopefully, I’m here to stay.