I wanted to respond to an essay that appeared in the Purim edition of the Binah. (Okay, I really started this blog to respond to “singlehood” articles printed in frum publications. Sort of kidding, sort of not.)
The essay (“Making The Choice”) by Devorah Schick is written from the perspective of an older sister to Tehila, who is single and turning 26. It details the family’s pain at seeing their sister turn another year older, still unmarried, and their efforts to create zechusim for her and help her find a shidduch. The author is constantly amazed at how consistently happy her sister appears to be, despite her singlehood: “She would call my house to speak to my kids, buy them gifts, come over and act silly with them and offer to go shopping with me. She set up my baby’s kiddush, and took our sister’s kids for pictures. (Can I just interject to say that I aspire to be that aunt?)…“I knew, we all knew, that her pain was unbearable, but her smile was constant. How, I wondered, as I tossed at night worrying about her. How can she looks so happy?”
Tehila shares her secret at her vort, which takes place the following year. A year earlier, she had made the decision to live with simcha, regardless of what would happen. She had embraced her life with enthusiasm, determined to live each day with joy.
Sara Yoheved Rigler once said, “If you are unhappy single, you will be unhappy married.” This simple truth changed my life. It was like a load off my shoulders. (I can make myself into the person I want to be, now, without depending on anyone else to make me happy?).
Why was Tehila’s happiness so surprising? Why is any single’s happiness surprising? Why is it assumed (so often by so many!) that pain has to equal constant misery? What were Tehila’s options, anyway? Isn’t a miserable life so terribly unpleasant? I’m just not sure why the issue of happiness is single-specific. Doesn’t every person face the nisayon of choosing happiness?
Tehila sounds like a special person in her own right, but I’d bet she’d also be the first to tell you that her happiness was self-reinforcing. She had a genuinely more wonderful life once she started working on giving herself a more wonderful life. (Because it had to have taken work.) Granted, her single status surely stacked more pain into the equation. But pain and happiness aren’t mutually exclusive, even if they seem to be in the eyes of the world. Simcha is woven from the strands of gratitude, self-care, giving, and connection…irrespective of marital status.
Here’s wishing Tehila and her family lots of simcha!
Any thoughts?
