I’m nervous. And to tell you the truth, I’m a bit scared. And ambivalent. Okay, all those feelings wrapped into one.

On Monday, I’ll be flying to Jerusalem for my son’s Bar-Mitzvah.

This is a city I fell in love with as a young Israel Defense Forces soldier that I write about in Accidental Soldier.

Can I just say I’m really really scared now? And ambivalent. I know I should have bright and strong fuzzy feelings inside about our son’s upcoming Bar-mitzvah in Jerusalem and yes, it is a family simcha of joy, but the truth of the matter is I’m scared. Scared that Israel will pull at my heartstrings like it always does even for a short visit. Scared to confront myself and that I won’t want to come back to our US home.
Because these feelings remind me of the moment when I had to leave Israel, our sacred “heart home” against our will in 2007.
Say what you want about so-called “social media heros” that resemble our country’s political leaders, the aggression, the pushiness. The fight and the rivals, the extraordinary price of living, the taxes, the politics, the need for escapism, the crazy drivers, the accidents, the nonstop madness that you see on social media, the IDF soldiers fighting for security and peace.. Yes, they are all part of the social fabric.
And yet, it is my heart home.
I didn’t want to leave Israel in 2007. I screamed and I cried inside but I kept a strong front. A firm resolve just like the country’s mentality I’d inherited. And yet, my family and I made a choice to leave.
Anytime you decide something against your will, you always leave a piece of yourself on the other side. And in my case, the Atlantic Ocean.
 
 
You fill your waking days with “what ifs” and “shoulda, coulda” – dreams that you think are going to bring you and your family some peace of mind and in a way they do, but the real price of love and the emotional, deeper connection all gets lost by the wayside because of your realistic needs to make ends meet. It’s a compromise, a sacrifice. That you never forget no matter how long and tight the years hold you together. There’s always something you’ve left behind that will change you. Impact you. I call it the power of a choice.
 
Israel is one of those countries that is held together by deep and fierce love but is outwardly expressed with aggression. You quickly learn that life in Israel is tough and love that for a country goes beyond the love for a family member, also has its price.
Your new “normal” in the States now includes lingos like “health insurance” and “premiums” and the “T” word. It’s all-encompassing words like “shul” instead of “shuk” or market and where “otobus” or “bus” means more deference and politeness with a slight tinge of apathy.
In finding your new home, you have to find a way to bring your emotions to the table without being misunderstood or even looked upon as even crazy. 
How many “heart homes” can you end up calling home?
 
So, in going forward, whether I’m meant to stay in America or in Israel, I’m not holding back on my voice.  It’s what I have to express myself from the Atlantic Ocean. I’ve been told by my American-Israeli friends, that Israel is going down the tubes. That it’s a country for political losers. It hurts to hear this! It hurts to know that American Israelis no longer see themselves as Israelis, even expats. I have a real problem with this. I don’t believe you can ever eradicate your identity. And for all those voices and the sake of preserving my own identity, my new normal begins now.
There. I said it.
Photo credit: Jerusalem
BIG JUICY NEWS! I signed a contract with Mascot Books for my new upcoming memoir Sand and Steel: The Spiritual Journey Home thanks to a very successful crowdfunding experience through Publishizer, and we are looking at an anticipated publishing date of late 2018.
But for me, the publishing of Sand and Steel starts now!
So be on the lookout for photo updates of my trip in Jerusalem, publishing updates, contests and other fun opportunities to get in on the action!