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buterflies-and-ladybugs · 2 years

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Round the Seder Table

I have been planning to write a series of timari celebrating the Jewish holidays because I want to. I just want to mention that all of these head canons are based on my own experiences of these holidays and are not accurate to everyone. People celebrate things differently. I will do my best to explain the traditions and happenings, but if you have any questions feel free to ask. So, sit back, relax, and please enjoy the first part of this series.

Marinette and Tim get a special part of the kitchen dedicated to Passover by Alfred, so they can keep all of their kosher for Passover stuff separate.

Kosher - A dietary restriction (Prevents things like pork, shellfish, and mixing milk and meat)

During Passover there are extra restrictions

Ex. not eating breads and other leavened foods

Marinette does most of the cooking, but over the years they have adopted certain foods and learned how to make them together.

Alfred was there to supervise Tim of course.

No one realized that the two were even celebrating the holiday (except for Cass because Cass knows all) until a family dinner happened to fall on the first seder and the two were not in attendance.

Seders take place on the first two nights of Passover. A seder is a meal in which a family as well as friends gather to study, discuss, and celebrate the escape from slavery in Egypt by the jewish people.

The family of course went to Alfred the omnipresent being he is and asked about where they were after which he told them they were busy, but they could ask tomorrow at breakfast.

So it was decided that they would be having family breakfast and dinner.

The next morning they gathered for breakfast and Alfred handed out pancakes to everyone right before Tim and Marinette walked in with their own pancakes.

The scene went a little like this:

“Where were you two last night? It was a Family Dinner.” asked Bruce as the others went quiet, not so subtly listening in.

“I was with Marinette. We were very busy.”

“Eww Replacement I don’t need to hear about your sex life.” chimed in Jason prompting uproar around the table.

Turning to Alfred, Marinette decided to ignore the chaos as usual and to just thank him for the recipe, and in order to stop the chaos invited him and everyone else to the seder that night at six, before dragging Tim off claiming they had to “prepare for unexpected guests that should have told them yesterday” because “this shit takes long enough to cook without unexpected guests” - real quotes from family

Arriving at the secondary dining room that very few even knew existed, the batfam were met with a table covered in full place settings, decorative plates of olives, beets, and other foods, a large plate at one head of the table, two bags or other cloth containers, and two covered plates at each end. Tim and Marinette sat together at the head of the table before getting up to hand each of them a book and ushering them to their seats in stunned silence.

After everyone was settled, Marinette and Tim explained that they, in fact, had been busy with the Passover seder and had been doing it for years.

And so, the batfam began their first seder together, starting with the Kiddish, or first of four cups of wine or grape juice. Before the rest of the family could even move to pour out their first glass, Tim and Marinette hopped up and filled everyone’s glass to the brim before filling each other's glasses.

This follows the idea that as the Jewish people are no longer slaves and they are dinning like royalty they shouldn’t pour their own glasses of wine/grape juice.

Marinette led the prayer over the first glass in a mix of Hebrew and English answering questions as she went along.

The second part of the seder is Urchats or the washing of the hands without the blessing. The family followed Tim and Marinette through the handwashing, asking questions about things as they went along.

This pattern continued throughout the seder until the fifth part of the seder, Maggid - the telling of the story of Passover and the escape from Egypt. During Maggid Tim pulled out a bag of toys representing each of the plagues before pulling them out as Marinette spoke of them.

Blood - Water and food dye in a clear glass

Frogs - Small toys that can jump in the air (which Tim totally didn’t intentionally launch at his brothers)

Lice - Small lice finger puppets hand sown by Marinette

Wild Beasts - Small animal figurines of tigers, bears, and other animals

Pestilence - A mask with little imagery of sickness

Boils - A matching mask covered in boils

Hail - Small plastic clear dice that looked like they contained fire in ice

Locusts - A small wind-up locust that jumps an inch in the air

Darkness - Sunglasses

Death of the Firstborn - No toy

The family enjoyed the toys while the telling of the story and the seder continued.

After benching or ending the meal and thanking God (similar to grace) and ending the seder with other prayers the family sang a few additional songs including Chad Gaddya, a song about a goat which is a metaphor for the Passover story. The song includes various characters which the batfam created sound effects for enjoying themselves and ending off the night on a high note with laughter in the air.

If you would like to hear more specific stories from during the seder, have questions (I am no rabbi, but I will do my best), want to see more in this same world, or just want to say hi please let me know. I love all comments and hearing from all of you, and I promise a new chapter of Up-Grade will be out soon.

#maribat #tim x marinette #timinette #timari #passover #seder #jewish holidays #i hope you enjoy

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and-then-the-trash · 3 years

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Judaism and Animal Crossing

YOU DON’T HAVE TO BE JEWISH TO READ THIS, IN FACT, PLEASE READ REGARDLESS OF WHETHER YOU’RE JEWISH OR NOT

i’m going somewhere with this i swear

actually probably multiple places because i’m ADHD and don’t often stay on just one thought but like,,,bear with me here

OK SO i am Jewish, ya know? like, i was raised in a conservative Jewish household, my mom and dad both come from Jewish families, i attended religious school at my synagogue twice a week in K-7th grade, i had a Bat Mitzvah, i went through confirmation class (though still haven’t technically been confirmed because of covid), i participate in Jewish youth group events and activities and even hold leadership positions in both my chapter and my region. most importantly, i believe in many of the stories and traditions of Judaism and consider these aspects of my life to be very important to me. i am a Jew.

i care about representation. i feel a bit left out during this time of year when i go out to a shopping center or really just anywhere in public, and i see Christmas wreaths and decorations and lights on every streetlamp, every building, every store. last night, my family went to help light the electric menorah that stands on the lawn of our local courthouse, and i commented on how there was a large Christmas tree, a scene of cardboard cutouts depicting the birth of Jesus, wreathes all around on the fence and gate surrounding the courthouse, and a Santa decoration standing right next to the menorah that was as large as the simple electric menorah that stood overshadowed by what was around it. Chanukah lasts for 8 nights. Christmas is one day, but it lasts for over a month.

this is going somewhere i swear. i’m gonna get to Animal Crossing.

the abundance of Christmas decorations and media and representation doesn’t surprise me; it never has. i expect it. expecting it doesn’t mean i’m not still disappointed when someone puts out a single tiny menorah next to a large Christmas tree and thinks that that’s representation.

i like to play Animal Crossing, specifically Animal Crossing New Horizons, though i did use to play New Leaf back when i had a DS. i like to participate in the festive days and celebrations and events in Animal Crossing. i participated in the festivities of Bunny Day earlier this year, though i’m still not really sure why, and that’s part of what this whole rant is about. Animal Crossing calls December 25th Toy Day, and leading up to it there are wreathes and festive decorations and announcements and twinkling lights. today, as i was playing, one of my islanders gifted me a Festive Wreathe and told me that they thought “everyone should have one of these during this season”.

i am a Jew. i celebrate Chanukah with my family every year. we light a menorah every night and we play dreidel and we fry latkes and we exchange presents. on Christmas, we do what many Jews in America do and we go to the movies and eat American Chinese food, sometimes even driving a few hours out to get kosher Chinese food so that i can eat something other than vegetarian lo mein, since i’m the only one in my family that still keeps kosher. i am saddened by the fact that i have yet to see any kind of Chanukah-like decoration or festivities in Animal Crossing. the holiday means Festival of Lights, something that i think would be a great name for a celebration in the Animal Crossing world!

so after all of this, can someone tell me why it is that i still want to display this festive wreathe that my islander gave me? why i bought a festive tree and fireplace back on my old copy of Animal Crossing New Leaf years ago? why i want to shake the pine trees that are draped in colored, twinkling lights, and find ornaments and craft the ornament wreathe DIY that Isabelle sent me?

i take pride in my Judaism. i tell others who are interested about my culture and my religion and what i know about the history and stories of my people, and i answer the questions they ask, and the ones i don’t know the answers to i ask my rabbi or my uncle who is also a rabbi. i share my traditions with others, inviting non-Jewish friends to come eat in my Sukkah during Sukkot, and play dreidel with me during Chanukah, and join my family’s seder during Pesach. i talk all the time about how much i want to be seen and represented and not be constantly overshadowed by Christianity. and i know that my religion is FAR from the only one to be overshadowed in this way. i know that Chanukah gets more attention than many other holidays and festivities of other religions, and Judaism gets more representation in the media than many other religions.

so why do i still want to participate in this same thing that i complain about once it’s brought into one of my favorite video games. am i becoming part of the same problem that i so badly wished could be fixed here in America? am i being brainwashed into thinking that as long as it “isn’t too religious” it should be fine, even though i know that it’s a tradition that stems from a specific religious holiday that isn’t mine? why do i want to participate while also wishing there was a menorah shining through the window of my ACNH house?

i know this is long and anyone who might’ve started it probably stopped reading by now, but if you made it to the end and might have answers as to why i want to participate in the game’s festivities and whether that’s okay or makes me part of the problem, please comment or reblog and tell me because i legitimately want to know. if you don’t have answers but think someone else might, please ask them or reblog or do SOMETHING because this is eating away inside of me.

i don’t want to abandon my beliefs and values because of a game, and i don’t want to feel like an event in a game is making me abandon those beliefs and values. i just want to be seen.

#acnh #animal crossing #animal crossing new horizons #animal crossing toy day #chanukah #christmas #jewish christmas #jewish #judaism #jewblr #jewish tumblr #jewish identity #jewish identity crisis #jewish representation #why am i like this #someone help me #:P

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beshert-bh · 4 years

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My journey to/with Judaism

***This is a super long post, it’s the FULL story, not a brief overview, but it would mean the WORLD to me if you read it***

Upbringing: very much Not Jewish™️

I was born into a Catholic family. I have a goyish last name. I was baptized as an infant, and my parents took me to church each week as a kid.

In kindergarten — back when I still went to a secular private school — one of my best friends was Jewish. He told me all about the traditions his family did...told me all about the kippahs they wear, and how they had their own game called dreidel for this holiday they celebrated, called Hanukkah. (Of course this convo was at a basic-kindergarten-level of knowledge.) When I came home from school I was fascinated with Hanukkah, (this is cringey to admit but my 5-year-old self tried to integrate the traditions together and so in order to do this I drew up a “Christmas dreidel” complete with Santa Claus’ face on one side, a present on another side...you get it)

And that is when I was promptly put in “parochial” schools. I went to Catholic school from 1st grade to 12th grade. I went through Holy Communion and Confirmation like all the other kids did. My elementary soccer team’s mascot was an Angel. My high school’s mascot was a Crusader. Our high school was located on Rome Avenue. I went to a Catholic youth conference. I considered becoming a nun because I was single all throughout high school.

Growing up, around Christmastime we would always travel to visit my grandma, and she would always say we’re “German Jewish” — but I would write her off. In my mind, I was like, Yeah ok like 1%? .....It felt like my grandma was acting like one of those white people who takes a DNA test and says, “Look! We’re 1% African!” So I would dismiss her and remind her how we’re Catholics and she would drop the subject.

Falling away from Xtianity: my first 2 years of college

My freshman year I changed — politically — as I was only conservative in high school because of the ‘pro-life’ agenda being shoved down my throat. I really aligned more with liberal and leftist policies and views, though. Once I became open to new political ideology, I began to question my theological beliefs.

I always had a strong connection to God. My whole life. But I struggled with connecting to Jesus, Mary, the saints, and so on. So obviously my freshman year of college I began to fall away from Catholicism.

You see, Catholics are “bad at the Bible” as I like to say. Other Christians do a better job of teaching and analyzing the writings. They actually require school-aged children to memorize Scripture passages. Catholics mostly just teach the same stuff over and over. Jesus, Mary, Joseph, blah blah blah. Catechism, liturgical calendar, blah blah blah. Parts of the mass, fruits of the spirit, blah blah blah.

So since I was already doubting Catholicism, its corrupt leadership, and its mindless traditions.... I thought maaaaybeeee I would find purpose, truth, clarity, etc. in plain-old Christianity. But I couldn’t have been more wrong.

The other Christian churches I went to baptized people (which is a BIG LIFE DECISION) on the spot. For example if a newcomer felt on a whim that they wanted to be baptized, the church would do it right then & there. No learning, no planning or preparing, that was it. They promoted blind faith and circular thinking. I began to realize these were both normal attitudes and cognitive patterns within any and every Christian community that I encountered.

Even the Christians who exhibited curiosity mostly just asked questions in order to be able to understand, and then accept, the doctrine as truth. Questions never ever challenged anything.

Oh and let’s throw in the fact that I’m bisexual. Homophobia, transphobia, biphobia (and more) are rampant in the church. So needless to say, with all my observations about the lack of logical thinking in the church (and considering my sexual orientation) I fell away. I stopped going to church unless my family made me when I was home from college.

Enter stage right: Judaism

In retrospect I happened to have a lot of friends in my sorority and my favorite fraternity on campus who were Jewish (the frat happened to be a traditionally-Jewish one). Thought nothing of it at the time. Fast forward to junior year when I met this cute guy on Tinder. He’s now my boyfriend and we’ve been dating for over a year. He didn’t tell me this on Tinder, but when we went on our first date, he revealed that he’s Jewish and wanted to make sure that’s something I was ok with. Clearly I had no problem with that. I wasn’t too into Christianity anymore but I still identified as one (and I was still surrounded by Christian friends in my sorority) so I told him I was Christian/raised Catholic and asked hypothetically if he would be comfortable with a “both” family. He said yes.

We started dating during an October, so of course Hanukkah came up soon. There was a mega challah bake at our local Chabad, which he took me to, and we had a blast. From then on I decided I wanted to show him how supportive I was of his Jewishness. (The last girl he dated dumped him after 3 months BECAUSE he was Jewish... so I felt that I needed to be supportive)

We started going to shabbat services and dinner every week. We did Hanukkah together (we bought our first menorah together, he taught me how to spin a dreidel, his mom bought me Hanukkah socks...lol). At some point in our relationship I told him I may have Jewish ancestry from my grandma but it’s distant and my whole extended family is Christian so it really wouldn’t even matter. I don’t remember when I had that conversation with him.

Eventually, after another few months of Shabbat services and Shabbat dinners, Pesach came around.

We went to the first seder together. The second seder is what changed everything.

Deciding to convert

At first I wasn’t sure if I belonged at this second seder. My boyfriend had always brought me to every event. I had never attended anything alone at Chabad before. But I went anyway. Throughout the night I felt increasingly comfortable. I had never felt more like I was a *part of something* than I did at this seder.

I sat near a friend who I recognized. (He knows I’m raised Catholic.) Then he & his friends welcomed me. We all took turns reading from the Haggadah, we drank the four cups of wine together, and we laughed together as I had maror for the first time.

Then the familiar faces left to go home, and one of them even went to another table to sit with his other friends whom he hadn’t had a chance to see yet that night. Naturally I thought I was alone again. I almost left, but something tugged at my heart to stay until the very end of the second seder. Something told me to keep going and keep taking in this wonderful experience.

The rest of the night consisted of many songs (most likely prayers, in retrospect) I did not know. Everyone stood to sing and we all clapped to the rhythm. I knew none of the words but I still clapped along, alone at my own table. Then one of the boys — the one who had been sitting with my friends and I earlier — motioned at me to come over and join his other friends. I approached this new table full of people I’d never met, feeling awkward as ever, and they not only hoisted me up to stand on the table with them as they chanted, but they also included me in their dance circle. (no, I don’t think it was the Hora, we just spun around over and over. lol.)

This was the first night I felt at home with Judaism. Going through the Jewish history with the Haggadah, remembering the important occurrences and symbolizing them with various foods, ending the night by being welcomed into the community... it was transformative. After attending shabbat services for months and learning about Jewish values, it changed something in me when I observed Pesach for the first time last year. I knew this path would be right for me. I felt as if my soul had found where it belonged. The Jewish history, traditions, beliefs, and customs resonated with me. It all just... made sense.

I told my boyfriend I wanted to convert. I wrote three pages of reasons. But I sat on the idea of converting and did nothing for a while. I did do some more research on Judaism, though, as I continued to attend services each week.

The exploration stage

I began to actually research on my own time. If converting was something I was genuinely considering, it was high time I began actively learning as much as I could possibly learn. It was time to dive deeper than just attending the weekly services and googling the proper greetings for Jewish holidays.

I started digging deeper into Judaism and Christianity so I could compare and contrast the two. I needed to understand the similarities and differences. And BOY are they different. That was surprising at first, but the more I learned about Judaism, the more I loved how different it was from the Christianity I was indoctrinated into.

Not only are the values and teachings of each religion vastly different, but the Tanakh (which is “The Old Testsment” in Christian Bibles) actually contradicts:

The entire “New Testament”

The gospel books specifically

The Pauline letters specifically

How did I realize this? Some bible study of my own, but mostly through online research. And, of course, I would have gotten nowhere without the help of Rabbi Tovia Singer and his YouTube videos. He debunks everything there is to debunk about Christianity.

Here were some things I came across when researching:

It confused me how the four Gospels didn’t align (like, major parts of the story did not align at all...and supposedly they’re divinely inspired...but they don’t even corroborate one another?)

It confused me how the psalms we sang in church were worded completely different from the true wording in the Bible (essentially the Christian church is taking tehillim and altering it to benefit Christian dogma and Christian rhetoric.)

It confused me how we read in the Bible that Jews are ‘God’s chosen people’ and yet in every Catholic Church, every Sunday, there is a Pauline letter being read which depicts proselytization of Jews, as if Jews are lost and need Christians to save them. As if Jews would go to hell if they fail to accept Jesus.

It confused me why we would pray to Mary and the saints, because praying is worship, and worshipping anyone but God themself is idolatry.

It confused me why Christians make, sell, and use graven images. Idolatry. Again.

It confused me why Christians give absolute power to humans. For example, if you crawl up the same steps (Scala Santa) that Jesus supposedly crawled up before he died, you automatically get “saved” because *some old men who have no divine power* said so (they have a term for this and it’s called “plenary indulgence” lol).

It confused me why Jesus was believed to be the messiah considering he had to have biologically been from the line of Joseph. Wasn’t Jesus supposedly conceived without any help from Joseph? Wouldn’t that render Jesus, uh, not messiah by default? Even if he was from Joseph’s blood, he still did not complete all the tasks moshiach is supposed to fulfill. And even if he DID fulfill all the tasks required of moshiach... we still would not worship a messiah as he is human and not GOD.

These were all new thoughts I developed this past year between Pesach and Yom Kippur. New questions that challenged everything I thought I knew. It was like teaching a child 2+2≠22 but rather 2+2=4.

Hillel

This fall, after the High Holy Days, my boyfriend began attending shabbat dinners at a rabbi’s home. His new rav lives in the community and it’s exclusive to be invited, so I never imposed. We do Shabbos separately now (with some exceptions, we do it together sometimes).

I continued to go to Chabad with one of my friends who knew I wanted to convert. But one month, she couldn’t come at all, and I felt a little judged there anyway.

So I began going to Hillel a few months ago. And I honestly have found a home there.

From Hillel’s Springboard Fellow reaching out to me and taking me out for coffee to get to know me... to running into my sorority & fraternity friends at every Hillel event (shabbat or otherwise)... From getting included in various clubs like the women empowerment group and the mental health inclusivity group... to being the only college student to participate in Mitzvah Day (hosted by Hillel) with the elderly and the local Girl Scout troop... I feel truly welcome. I’ve started to attend every week. I even talked briefly with the rabbi about having Jewish lineage and wanting to convert.

Discovering new information

I went home to be with family during Thanksgiving break. My grandma flew in so she was there when I got home. She stayed with us from then until New Years (and she’s actually moving in with us next year.)

Of course, now I have a Jewish boyfriend, Jewish friends, and I’ve done extensive research on Judaism. So this time I had background knowledge when she inevitably said... “You know, we’re German Jewish!”

I inquired a little. I asked her what she meant. How is she Jewish? I know my uncle took a DNA test this year and came back part Ashkenazi. But I needed a deeper explanation than DNA.

She revealed to me that her mom’s mom was Jewish. We believe she married a Christian man. Together they had my great-grandmother, who I believe was Christian. She had my grandma, who had my dad, who had me.

And I immediately felt like that changed things. At first I was (internally) like, Now I definitely need to convert! But then I was like, Wait, does this make me Jewish? Am I Jewish-ish? ...Can you be considered Jewish if you’re only ethnically Jewish but not raised Jewishly? ...Can you be Jewish if your dad is your only Jewish parent? ...Can you be Jewish if your dad never had a bris or a bar mitzvah?

I joined a bunch of Jewbook groups, began learning the Hebrew calendar & holiday schedule, and found some folks who assist with Jewish genealogy. They did some digging for me and apparently I descend from the Rothschild family. THE Rothschild family.

Who is a Jew? Who “counts”?

This is something I’ve been muddling over.

At Hillel, at my school at least, most people are pretty Reform. They’re very liberal with their definitions of Judaism (they believe in patrilineal descent and not only matrilineal descent).

They accept me and see me as actually Jewish ...and the ones who don’t... they at least see me as Jewish-adjacent, an “honorary Jew” or an “ally to the Jewish people”.

My boyfriend, however, still sees me as Not Jewish.™️ (For context he’s Reform but he’s trying to become as observant as possible) I know he only thinks this was because of how we began our relationship and because of how I was raised. But I’m very confused here.

Do I count?

Do I not?

Do I count *enough* but still need to go through a formal conversion process?

So...now what?

I don’t know how to navigate this odd journey but I have felt for a while that I have a Jewish neshama and I feel a strong need to affirm it. I just don’t know how or what is appropriate. Do I learn Hebrew? Sign up for a trip to Israel/Germany/Poland? Put up a mezuzah? Or go toward the other end of the scale, and head down a path of a formal conversion/reaffirmation process?

Thank you in advance for your responses and thanks for reading. 🤎

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sapphixxx · 6 years

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I don’t really talk about this very often, but I’ve been studying for the last few years to convert to Judaism. It’s been a long road to even get started, because my ex heavily discouraged me from any kind of community activities, and when I left her, I didn’t know where I would be living. For the last year I’ve been living somewhere different every few months. It’s only been just now in finding out that I got accepted to grad school in Seattle that I’ve known for sure I’ll be in one place for long enough to study under a rabbi and formally join a congregation.

Growing up, theology was one of the only things my family talked about. Not movies, or music, or books, or even each other, but biblical philosophy. Every night over dinner or while we were sitting around, there was some question about interpreting scripture, how to bring it into our lives, how to view the world with the tools that the bible gave us, how to interpret the things we saw from a biblical lens. We were best friends with the bishop and every pastor we ever had, and in a very real way the church and the community in it was more home than the place I slept and more family than my blood relations.

I took that for granted. I assumed that’s just what religion was for everyone. And when I was a rebellious teenager who wasn’t certain anymore about the existence or primacy of God, I stopped going to church. But I never stopped being able to look through the theological lens that I had been raised with. Once I moved away, I tried to find that connection to God again, and couldn’t find it anywhere. Only among a few pastors and seminary students that I’ve met could I find that sense of constantly questioning and interrogating scripture, but never among a whole congregation or community that I could become a part of. And the more I looked, the more despondent I became.

In my search for further understanding, I started reading about Jewish theology and philosophy to supplement my biblical study. It was like a revelation. Here upon the page, a diversity of opinions, of interpretations, thousands of years of living debate that went further and deeper than I had ever imagined even with my rigorous upbringing. A doctrine wherein questions were not only welcome, but highly encouraged, or even necessary.

Something that gets said a lot in talks of religion is to seek a personal relationship with God, the father. I don’t know about you, but my father never sat atop a mountain and declared his will while I listened and went about adhering to it. I argue with my father, I disagree with him, I often ignore what he says outright and make my own path. Even with what he has taught me, we have radically different interpretations and approaches. That is the relationship I want with God. I want to wrestle with him, to know him and love him in a way as complicated as the way I know my flesh and blood father, and it feels as though I have finally begun to find the language to do so.

Tonight at the Passover Seder I felt like I was home in a way I haven’t felt about anywhere else since I was a child in Sunday school. I still have much to learn, a long way to go, and for all my excitement I am anxious. This is something I still may not talk about very much about. As of yet I have no claim to Judaism, after all, and I do not want to seem as if I am making any presumption that I do. Only my continued dedication studying under the guidance of a rabbi will change that. Tonight is only my first step in a journey that will take the rest of my life. I take it gladly, and am immensely humbled to finally take part in it.

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againjack · 6 years

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Racing

Last week was odd, and it bled into the weekend. Colby was stressed between work, HOA, baseball, and family stuff that his taking the lead to plan the group outing to Georgia Steeplechase was a bit much for him. We also learned that he is more an ask culture, whereas I am guess culture, which caused more friction as he wanted me to ask things (to a group email where I didn’t know half the people on it) and I was uncomfortable doing so. This turned into my educating him about social anxiety and reminding him why using the phone is something I really don’t enjoy. This then seemed to be when he decided to stop calling me. :(

Friday afternoon he popped me up on Gchat to ask if I was still picking him up from work around X time. To which I said we had never discussed that, reiterating that I had agreed to (go out of my way to) walk his dog before meeting him at #1′s home for a final night Seder. He was a bit pissy, when I asked if he wanted me to pick him up, he gave a passive-aggressive “You do you.” *exasperated sigh* The sad thing is he realizes he has these conversations or plans to have conversations in his head and that they don’t always actually happen. I’ve noticed it happens more often when he is stressed. I got fairly pissy about all of it - I was already going out of my way to help him out (and got no thanks for it) - and he expected me to do more, including to read his mind about that more. I was really upset, working myself up to tears, and feeling very under appreciated.

The seder was different, interesting, and ended up ok. It did last a while, so I didn’t say to help clean up like I normally do, or wait for when Colby was ready. Instead, I gave my thanks to #1 and SIL, and left around 10:30pm. I was nearly asleep when he got home, to the point I didn’t have the energy to even say anything or roll over when he got back, and he thought I was completely out.

The next morning we had to be ready, as everyone was converging on Colby’s for the caravan to Steeplechase. I wasn’t exactly a happy camper to have to get up so early (as folks were supposed to arrive around 8:30am - moreso because they started arriving closer to 8am.) I didn’t get to eat breakfast or have any private time, I was lucky to get enough time to shower and be ready.

It was cold Saturday. And I’m the idiot that had expected it to be in the high 60s, not mid40s. Needless to say, it was exactly as Colby explained it to me, only way colder. On one hand, I didn’t burn as I expected to. On the other, I was bored and frustrated as I had expected to. It was literally just tailgating - sitting in a field for hours eating snack food, drinking heavily, and the occasional horse race that you really couldn’t see from where we were. Sure Colby was there, and some folk he works with that I met at the holiday party, and some of our game night crew. But other than being frozen (hands literally turning purple) no matter wearing Colby’s fleece and being wrapped in a blanket, I was bored and frustrated. I am not a big drinker, and being cold didn’t want to drink because that could cause issues. They were being stupid with the drinking and no one was really talking. There was nothing to do, and I had a gazillion other things I could have been doing. And because of where we were parked, and how the tents were setup, I had to wait to leave until the very end.

The thing is, Colby knew in advance that tailgating and heavy drinking aren’t things I enjoy doing or being around. He knew I went to try it out but that I was extremely wary. I told him on the drive back that I won’t be doing that again. He was disappointed, but I couldn’t care less. There is no saying I have to enjoy or do everything he enjoys/does. It isn’t like something to be supportive of, like a family event or holiday. He can f’n deal that I don’t like it and won’t go. I’m not going to stop him from going.

When we got back I took a long, hot shower to thaw out. Because I was so cold most of the day, I barely ate anything either. Of course, that was also due to the fact I wanted to limit consumption so I didn’t need to use the port-o-potties for the 7 hours we would be there (and 90 minute drive each way.) We watched tv while he unpacked stuff, and he was surprised that as hungry as I was, I didn’t eat much. He didn’t get that after basically a day of fasting I couldn’t gorge but needed to ease back into eating at normal levels. I asked him if he could at Break the Fast after Yom Kippur, he said he had no issues with that. *le sigh*

He ended up falling asleep on the couch, for three hours. It was odd, at first I tried to stay out of his way, but eventually, we ended up with legs tangled and cuddling. He woke up for about an hour or so, by then it was nearly 11pm so I went to bed. When I woke at 5:30am and couldn’t sleep, I found he never came to bed. This had me in a spiral of bad thoughts. I ended up getting myself together and out the door to the board meeting without waking him. I texted him (once at shul) about how his not coming to bed worried and upset me.

After the board meeting, Colby texted me. He had been sporadically texting and planning to do lunch with a friend. Up until he texted I had no idea that lunch included me. He again made it sound like it was a given I was included. Dude, you can do things with your friends without me, it’s ok! I’m not going to assume that we do all the things together all the time. And he better not assume the same when it comes to me and my friends. :P

I met them at a restaurant up the street from Colby’s and we had a lovely brunch. The friend was one of the folk from the group birthday dinner when I first met some of his friends, the day I had the car accident. It took me a while to place him. It’s slightly frustrating that Colby expects me to keep the gigantic cast of people in his life straight, after meeting someone once, 9-10 months ago and have heard nothing about since.

After brunch, it was 3pm when we got back to Colby’s. He had more unpacking and cleaning to do after Steeplechase, I ended up taking a nap - until 8pm. I didn’t realize I needed it so bad, though not entirely surprising since I had slept like crap the past two nights and spent most of Saturday shivering. :P

Colby ended up ordering a calzone for us to split and while we ate we chatted. His friend had reinforced to Colby my timeline about getting the best deal for my house, which in turn, made him be more on board. We talked about timing, what to keep, etc. He still is leaving it up to me, though we ended up with me in tears because it felt like he wanted me to get rid of everything that was mine. He didn’t understand how some of the things I had were things I had waited years for to find or saved months for to afford. He even mentioned getting rid of my tvs. He tried to frame it as we would get all new (and matching) stuff when we got the new house. But he didn’t get that we might not be able to afford that immediately.

We also had a not so interesting turn talking about how after his ex moved out he never reused that portion of the dresser, and he just expected me to use it. I made a comment about how I was just filling the spaces she left rather than him making space for me. Basically, insert tab B into slot A. He turned that around into how he was filing Franklin’s space, which wasn’t fair or realistic since I had a whole different space and made it mine after Franklin, Jamaica, and Bear. I had no space, I made space for Colby in my life. I made changes to my home for him, if minor since he is never here. He isn’t making changes for me, just letting me take the space his last girlfriend took from him.

While we were eating (as most of the moving discussion was after eating while he was doing his taxes and other computer stuff.) he mentioned something about sex, which I used as a segue to remind him that his not having sex with me had become an issue. A big one. And how it’s been over a month since I said that and I haven’t seen any changes. I told him how I had found, in a random way, that his ex was pregnant and how much that saddened and hurt me. He didn’t get why. His gut reaction when I mentioned this was “Ha, sucks to be her husband when she is off her meds.” Once I explained that my reactions were, “Well at least someone is getting sex” followed by “she is the reason he won’t touch me” he got it.

I went to bed around 1am while he was still finishing his taxes. I don’t know when he finished up, but I heard him shaving off his beard (as is his tradition) before he came to bed. He cuddled up my side of the bed, but when I tried to cuddle with him he would turn over or back away. *head shake*

This morning I feel like he was trying to butter me up. He made a point to say how good I looked Saturday. As we left for work, he said, “You really are amazing, you know that?” “Thanks.” He followed it up with looking me in the eyes and saying, “I love you.” I’m just in such an emotional spot that I first responded with the horrible, “thanks,” then followed up with, “I love you, too.”

On the drive home I wondered why. Well, not too much since I feel like he is struggling to say/show it. He is trying. So I acknowledge that with a thanks. Though it still feels like a dick move on my part. And, the tagged on “I love you too” felt hollow. I still don’t feel that he does love me. And I feel kinda numb and angry/frustrated about it all. I don’t mean it right now.

I wondered, while driving, if this is that Westermark effect settling in. Is it just all my anger, hurt, and frustration? Or is it just that I’ve reached a point that I can’t trust that he’ll meet my needs, show compassion for me and what I’m doing/going through, or be there for me. It’s like I’ve finally reached a bottom (not sure if it is the bottom) and that bottom is a barren ground where no fucks can be grown. He took too damn long to tell me he loves me. He took too damn long to try to show me he cares. He still hasn’t shown me that he understands or wants to meet my needs. Not just sex, but just being held, or more kissing.

I’m back to the imaging him proposing and my just laughing at him how he isn’t trying to meet my needs and shits over me and my stuff, how the fuck could I marry that?

#dating Colby #feeling unappreciated #not feeling the feels #i can't wait forever

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strandsofcommonthread · 7 years

Text

Finding great gratitude in the small.

Gratitude is found in the small things.

This past Tuesday, just seven weeks before my last day at site, was a day made perfect by many small, sweet moments.

6:00 -- It all started at 6:00 in the morning, when I Skyped with my family back home during their Passover Seder. With the clear morning morning and early time on my side, I took advantage of strong data signal to turn on the video camera and bring my American family on a video tour around our Nepali home, our water buffalo and goats, our garden. When I got to the chicken coop, where my host family houses 240 boiler chickens, my great aunt asked me “Are those….garlic?” I laughed, and later shared the story with my cousin Khuma, who smiled and said “Ayyyyy, aba Amrika ma lasun hidne sakincha, ke ho?” (Wooooow, so now in America, garlic can walk around or what?”) I understood the sarcasm in her voice, and she understood the sillyness of the story, and although the moment was short, it was unblemished by misunderstanding or delays or cultural differences (which often make humor and silliness hard in foreign languages), and thus equally shared and perfect.

7:30 -- The next hour and a half, I talked on the phones with one of my PCV friends, Liz. We joked about how her younger group’s relationship with my older group have shifted over time, spoke about her successful oyster mushroom projects that she started (using millet and mustard straw to grow mushrooms since her community is too water insecure to grow rice for the rice straw – really innovative!), and mused about how various PCVs cope with the inevitable highs and lows of Peace Corps service. Both having just read “Into the Wild,” we also spoke about our yearning to travel, reflecting on the reality that Peace Corps is an international experience that is book-ended by two big journeys, but is actually quite stationary for the majority of the two years. It felt affirming to talk through that small, yet fundamental, truth: Peace Corps is not for those who have wander lust. Peace Corps is instead for people who want to live deeply, fully, in one place, one small (usually rural and remote) village, for two years, and to learn the subtle nuances of that place during that long time.

10:00 -- After talking with Liz, I went upstairs and asked my aama if she could serve me my food early, since I was meeting a friend later in the day. I now understand, after nearly two years living here, that if I don’t ask to eat at a certain time, it could be as late as 11:00 when my whole family eats our morning meal together. Today, however, I ate early, and as I was finishing my meal, which included bamboo (a taste I mistook for mustard oil and despised during PST when it was served to me as a special treat on my 23rd birthday, but a taste I’ve now grown to enjoy) and potatoes (which I now know to expect as a staple of every meal until the monsoon rains break us from our dry season), my bua walked in, and I knew to say “maile khanna khaye chu” (I’ve eaten), acknowledging the obvious as a polite way to avoid the rude-ness of eating before the head of the household (him). After eating, I washed my right hand and brought our two empty water buckets down to the outside tap to fill up, knowing that our inside faucet dries up in the dry season. As I walked outside, exposing my neck and face to the hot mid-day sun, I turned my thoughts to the many host families of other volunteers, and many of my own neighbors, who have to walk 15-30 minutes to get water from a community tap. How lucky we are, I thought for what must be the five-hundredth time, to have our own private family tap outside, not to mention an inside faucet that works most (if not all) months of the year. Perspective is everything.

11:00 -- After bringing the filled water buckets back upstairs, I set off to walk down to Nayapati, the bus stop about a mile from my house where I catch all buses to Tansen, Pokhara, Kathmandu, or elsewhere. At Nayapati I met up with Chelsea, another PCV who was coming to my site to visit a worm production farm in my village. We walked at a quick clip back up the hill, past the cement resting point where I’ve sat dozens of times with older women who needed to catch their breath on the uphill stretch, past the water tank where old men often sit, past the school where the neighborhood kids usually play after hours, and then followed the advice of various neighbors who pointed out how to get to Durba dai’s (the worm farmer) house. As I walked past countless community landmarks, places that were indistinguishable and without meaning two years ago, I was reminded again and again just how well I know this place. How filled with memories every spot has become.

At Durba dai’s house, his wife Usha walked us through their farm, pointing out key steps of the worm production process along the way. She spoke clearly, but quickly, and I realized that I was able to follow her without much effort. After spending some time with our hands in the dirt, picking out the few worms that hadn’t buried themselves deep to avoid the hot, dry upper layers of soil, we went back to the porch to sit in the shade and chat. And, in typical Peace Corps fashion, Chelsea, Usha and I ended up spending the majority of the afternoon doing just that: sitting and chatting. By the time Chelsea and I realized (from our growling stomachs) that it was getting late, Usha had already begun cooking up an afternoon snack. And just like that, as graciously as if we were her own children, she brought over a hearty snack of two kodo ko roti (big round black flat breads made from millet flour), two bowls of sour yogurt, two bowls of tarkaari, and two glasses of sweet, milky chia.

As Chelsea and I sat there, happily munching on our snack in the shade, overlooking a field filled with banana trees and coffee plants and goats and vermaculture compost piles, I was filled with gratitude for the unrushed days that Peace Corps life affords, and the generosity of Nepali people. Not many other times in my life, I thought, will I have so much time to just sit, relax, and enjoy the passing of the day with the company of complete strangers. Chelsea and I ended up hanging out with Usha and her family for four hours that day.

3:00 -- After Chelsea left to catch a bus back to her own site, I walked over to the “balbalika ko karekram” (children’s program), where the President of the Children’s Club had invited me to come speak about the differences and similarities between situation of children in the United States and in Nepal. Although he had only invited me that morning, and barely mentioned where the meeting would be held, I knew exactly where to go – and, walking into the training hall on the top floor of the school, I was struck with memories of the very first meeting that I ever went to in that room, nearly two years ago, when I had been asked to introduce myself to all of the community leaders, and had stumbled my way through my previously-prepared (and practiced) 3-minute introduction in Nepali before quickly rushing to take my seat.

Today, however, I got up without notes, without much guidance, and spoke to the students for 30 minutes – easily sliding back into English when needed (and knowing which adults in the room I could turn to for help), but by-in-large being able to comfortably speak and share my thoughts in Nepali. I spoke about the existence of both public and private schools in the US (similar to Nepal), about school uniforms (usually not required at public schools in the US, although they are in Nepal) and school buses (usually available in the US, but not in Nepal), and about the minimum age to vote (18 in the US and in Nepal).

After speaking for a while, I encouraged the students to stand up and ask their own questions, and was thrilled to hear some really thought-provoking ones (asked by an equal number of boys and girls, which is rare), including:

How do you take care of young babies in the US?

What are the laws in the US about child abuse and child labor?

What are the differences in social services available to kids versus adults in the US?

What strengths does Nepali society have to offer that the US should learn about?

As I answered their questions, I felt confident, knowing that the students understood my Nepali (or most of it, at least) and that I was speaking from a place of deep understanding of both systems – something I would not have been able to do as well two, or even one, year ago.

4:00 -- After my part in the program ended, I walked the mile back down to Nayapati (to pick up some fruit I had forgotten that morning). The late afternoon sun glowed a soft orange on my closed eyelids as I slowly and easily made me way down the dirt road, knowing (without having to look) which sections of road had been expanded, which banks had been reinforced, and which water gutters had been built since I first arrived two years ago. I opened my eyes just as a group of monkeys, 18 in total, crossed the road, scaled the exposed roots of trees along the edge of the jungle, and made their way inside the tree-filled refuge. Although when I first got here, I felt alarmed by the warnings of my neighbors to watch out for the bhadr (monkeys), I now knew not to be afraid of them, and that if I simply continued on my way, they’d continue on theirs.

4:30 -- With a kilo of anar (pomegranate) in hand, I walked from Nayapati back up to the house of our ward’s Female Community Health Volunteer, whose father in law passed away 5 days prior. After having experienced two deaths in my host family over these past two years, I now know too well that the 5th day after the death is the first day for visitors to come and give their condolences, that I should not to do the “Namaste” hands since it was a time of mourning, and that I should make sure to pay respect to the wooden chair set up with a framed photo of the man who passed away. As I glanced over towards the wife of the man who passed away, I wasn’t surprised to see her hair down and unbrushed (a stark contrast to the usually neat bun or braid that most Nepali women keep), and her thin body wrapped only in a few pieces of white cloth with nothing underneath (the required outfit for the mourning family members for 13 days). Her gaze met mine, and I knew to hear the kindness in her predictable remarks on how my face has gotten fatter since two years ago, how “moto bhayera ramri bhaye cha” (you look so beautiful now that you’re fatter). Her comment, which used to make me feel uncomfortable in my first few months of site, now left me feeling complimented.

5:00 -- After about 30 minutes, I walked with my cousin back to her house, then sat outside with our hajurbua (grandfather) to de-shell dried beans that would become next week’s daal (lentil/bean soup). I enjoyed the lack of conversation as I sat with the 89-year-old, instead focusing on each crinkle of the dried bean cover crumbling in our fingers and ping as the beans reached the metal bowl. I wasn’t surprised to see my hajurbua, on multiple occasions, pause his de-shelling to slowly reach into the bean skeletons and extract individual beans that had been accidentally discarded – despite the fact that his eyes are failing him in his old age. I felt so comfortable, so in my place, just sitting there with him – and I felt so grateful for that comfort, because comfort is hard to come by in new places. But this place is no longer new to me. It is very much familiar, known, and understood.

At the end of the day, reflecting on these many small moments of understanding and comfort, I thought about how that these small moments are enough. They are what separate the recently arrived Rachel from the nearly COS’ed Rachel. They are what make conversations these days with host family and friends smoother, funnier, more honest. And they are what have made this place a home for these past two years.

In these next seven weeks, I hope to come to terms with the fact that the process of accumulating these many small moments of understanding has provoked a lot of personal growth in me – and that even though I don’t fully realize all the ways I’ve changed, that I will never be the same person I was when I walked into this village two years ago.

Now, as I hear the clatter of plates and bowls upstairs, I know it’s time to put my computer away, put on my shoes (no bare feet allowed), and walk upstairs for our evening meal eaten under the stars and the full, orange moon.

What a beautiful experience this has been, to find great gratitude in the small.

Rachel

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