Losing My Identity as an Oleh Chadash

I write a lot about joy. The joys of being Jewish, the joys of being in Israel. Making aliyah is the most exciting and joyful thing I’ve ever done but there’s a difficult side to these first few months of aliyah which has been slightly unexpected.

It’s obvious that moving to a new country where you don’t speak the language or fully relate to the culture comes with its adversities. It’s obvious that without a job you’re going to feel pressure about how much money you’re spending on rent and food. But what was less obvious to me before coming here was the identity loss I’d feel as an oleh chadash.

Back in England, I felt established as you should in your early 30s. I’d spent my 20s discovering who I was. I’d travelled through different countries before settling in London, I’d worked terrible jobs, dated terrible people and lived in terrible flats. By 33 I had a good job, I felt confident in who I was in my friendship circle, as a son, brother and uncle. I hosted Friday Night Dinners from my flat in London, I read at least one book a month, I could repair ripped clothes with my sewing machine, I could walk into a room with confidence.

But since moving to Israel that feeling of establishment seems to have gone and with it an anchoring of self I once had. Sometimes I feel as though I’m losing myself, or at least parts of myself, which I first blamed on the war but now I think is perhaps just a symptom of early aliyah.

I love to cook but since moving here I haven’t been able to make anything more complex than salads, eggs or chicken. I don’t know if it’s the unfamiliarity of the kitchen set up, the unfamiliarity of the supermarkets, the cost of the food, the weather or a combination of the above but I’ve found that my cooking skills and more importantly, my desire to cook, have completely vanished. Last week my poor friend Shai had to endure countless messages and phone calls from me as I navigated simmering a packet of barley for a basic salad, something I could have whipped up easily back in London with my cookbook collection which I left with the rest of my beloved books in the UK. It’s as though my basic skill set has deteriorated and I can’t quite figure out if it’s because all my brain power is currently elsewhere or if it’s because I have actually left parts of it behind in the UK for now.

As well as cognitive skill rot I feel as though my interpersonal development has also slipped. I’m blessed to have amazing friends here both English and Israeli but I feel as though any relationship I have, particularly with my Israeli friends, is one-sided because in my mind I currently have nothing to offer them.

They invite me to dinners, talk in English around me, give me pop culture lessons to include me in their conversations yet I am well aware that I look as though I’m somewhere else during these dinners because in some ways I am. As they’re chatting away, my brain is working overtime thinking about learning the entire Hebrew language which is overwhelming enough but on top of that I’m: trying to catch up on the lived experiences of my new friends which in reality I’ll never be able to do, reconciling that truth and understanding that there will always be a disconnect in those experiences and wondering how that might impact those friendships and any future relationships I have here, before my brain wanders off completely into the differences between the Jewish experience inside and outside of Israel which is its own minefield. All of this whilst sitting round a dinner table with a new group of people, trying to casually catch the few words of Hebrew that I do know and keeping a poker face so that the host doesn’t think I’m a complete lunatic and rescind any future invitations!

When I tell people this they say I’m overthinking, I’m well aware! I’m a gay Jewish writer, overthinking is my bread and butter. I know it’s temporary, I keep reminding myself but sometimes my impatience takes over and I find myself sat on the beach looking out at the sea wondering why it seems as though everyone else has their lives on track whilst I feel like I’m crash landing a plane through a storm.

I know that once one thing falls into place I know the rest will follow. Once I have a more permanent flat instead of a sublet I can look at hosting and giving back to the friends who have hosted me over the last few months. Once I have some income I’ll feel less pressure about eating into my savings and I can buy some decent pots and pans to make those Friday Night Dinners. Once I’ve completed ulpan I’ll feel more confident speaking Hebrew and I won’t find myself in coffee shop lines forgetting the word for ‘drink’ as the frustrated barista looks at me like I’m an idiot.

Slowly slowly, that’s what everyone says here. In years time I’ll look back at these months with fondness and wish I was more patient with myself. Each day I’ll feel more settled and with it my confidence will return. I’ll be able to take up the hobbies I enjoyed back in England, the things that made me feel self-sufficient and interesting. Alongside new pieces of myself I don’t know even know yet, living a far better life than the one I had in London where I felt established surrounded by books and fancy crockery but no future in sight.