I know I've been horrible at keeping up with these posts.
I get off every other weekend (sometimes more), and I still can't seem to manage to write a little something every time I come home, and I know why.
This past year (yes, exactly a year today) has been the hardest year of my life. Between my dad dying, joining the army, and all the joys that come with those particular activities, I have lost touch with important people in my life, including myself. I try not to make this blog too personal so readers around the world can apply my journey and all its mishaps to their lives. But what is a blog if not a little personal? As of late, my personality is dealing with the reality of somehow living an entire year without my father. Over the course of this year, I have become disconnected, antisocial, unhappy. And I know that is because I am grieving, but I miss the old me, the Shirit that loved parties, preferred a movie night with friends to going to sleep early, never avoided friends, and would have kept up her blog.
Now that a year has passed, I am learning to be happy in this new world of mine. I'm going to start with getting back in touch, going out more (to actually make friends and create meaningful relationships), and, of course, post twice a month. I'm almost done with my training, so it should be much less stressful to be a regular-service soldier.
Since my last post, I have made new friends and strengthened relationships with existing ones. I have studied hard, to the point that, depending on the subject, I can correct even a commander (respectfully). I have obtained insoles and an ankle brace and have started at-home physical therapy. I have proven my worth in this battalion on several occasions. I have celebrated my dad's birthday. I have gotten back in touch with my siblings to form relationships stronger than ever. I have made it onto the Nefesh B'Nefesh Facebook page with a quote from a text that was only supposed to be a small thank you for the generous donors for the backpack (!!). I have neglected to elaborate for my dear readers the whole process I had to go through to get the original backpack to my ownership. I have read an entire book in Hebrew before the end of 2014 (a kid's chapter book, but it counts). I have learned how to teach a class in Hebrew. I have given a number of classes, one semi-successful, a few very successful. I ran and jumped and climbed. I earned the battalion pin. I got sent home early on a couple of occasions based on performance (and once on illness). I met the Chief of General Staff of the IDF (ramatkal), Benny Gantz [at a barbecue for lone soldiers that no one knew he was showing up to, so we were all somewhat tipsy and he made a joke about drinking what he thought was just orange juice]. I have seen friends from the US (thanks, Birthright) that I haven't seen in almost a decade. I have put in my requests for my vacation with my mom and sister coming to Israel and for my trip home. I worked on my Hebrew. I work on my Hebrew. I will work on my Hebrew. I am very possibly getting a Hebrew tutor, after months of begging. I guard, guard, guard, and when I'm done guarding, I guard some more. I see my beautiful country get threatened by terrorists and its citizens stabbed and I ride the bus with caution and always walk with one hand on my gun. I try and figure out if I would be that soldier that would advance in the case there was a terrorist shooting at me, if I knew that if I advance those citizens get to live but maybe I don't, do I hide under a rock and try to shoot from there. I think about if someone decides to start stabbing people on the bus I am riding, will I try to stop him. I learn the material, I teach the class, I practice the Hebrew, I neglect the blog, I make the friends, I strengthen my ankle, I guard the land, I do the running and jumping and climbing (and the earning), and I do the thinking and all of a sudden it's back, every detail and all those feelings of why I'm here. It hits at the funniest moments, like we'll be making popcorn on Shabbat to entertain the people guarding, and I'll think, "I am so lucky to be here with these people who play silly games because sometimes it's more fun here than anywhere else." And I know, all you soldiers reading this are going to go crazy because how the hell can it be more fun on base? And might I remind you that we have all felt it, if you notice, how comfortable we are with our friends on base. What better friend than the one you live with for weeks at a time, learn the same stuff, fight for the same country, have the same inside jokes, and know has your back in an emergency no matter what crap is going on? And not everyone appreciates it. But all you post-army folks out there, who is it you stay in touch with? And I know it's not just the IDF, but we have this special bond in that most of the world hates Israel and sometimes there's nothing to do but laugh and just remember WHY they draft us and need us for 2-3 years, WHY we must scream ad ma-ty, WHY we guard for more hours than any phone app can track. So we can survive. So we can defend this great nation and all its people. It's bigger than the Jews, baby. I've got a Christian Korean guy in my tzevet who has more motivation to be in the army than many Israelis. And he's not alone. I mean, it's not often a nice Southern girl shows up to the Bakum, babbling about being a combat soldier.
I'm here for a reason, and for all of you out there even just sitting there at home, reading this, if your home is in Israel (or soon to be), then there is a reason for you, too. The more the merrier.
I'll post pictures next time around.
