I’m an American Jew living in Pittsburgh. We’re a family of four living within our modest means. We’ve been in Squirrel Hill since 2007 and lately, I’ve been wondering whether we’ll ever return to Israel. Going back under the law of return makes such a move ridiculously easy. The question is.. how would we live?

I want to return for ideological reasons. My husband has become a lot more practical. We’ve grown spiritually as proud Jews. We’ve taken on Jewish learning and observing the Shabbat. At times, this feeling has been snug and comfortable. But I have to always remind myself I’m an Israeli expat in the Diaspora. I speak Hebrew with my Israeli tribe and attend as many Jewish classes as I am able.

I’ve encountered this feeling many times before while in Israel. When the financial struggle became tenuous, I told friends, “you’ve got to love the land.” The tension was politically divisive, but I could easily see myself settling back there. We are Jews and yes, we belong there. Israel is our homeland. But yet, Israel is not an easy country to live in – the taxes and cost of living are ridiculously high and the salaries are exceedingly low. We’ve flourished and bypassed some of the angst that goes into monthly financial planning by tapping into our local support systems like WIC and our local food pantry, but they still don’t satisfy the longing.

For a while now, (12 years!) I’ve been able to keep my longings at bay. But when the Tree of Life synagogue attack befell our people, I found myself seeking the protection of our Jewish army, but the Israel Defense Forces were nowhere to be found. The anti-Semitic attacks continued and I prayed and prayed.

I could not predict any of this hardship 12.5 years ago when we came with just three suitcases and a 2.5 year old redhead. My main goal was getting my husband a job, which thankfully, he did within a week of arriving to Squirrel Hill thanks to a contact who I still manage to stay in contact today.

I thought we were escaping financial uncertainty, doubt, terrorism, fear. Squirrel hill seemed like the perfect peaceful place to start anew. There were Israelis, all different kinds of Jewish people I could connect with. From the start, we were drawn to a new kind of spiritual ideology.

But my bank account doesn’t run on ideology. I’m also finding out it doesn’t run well on surrendering. It runs well on patience – a virtue I’m still struggling with and persistence.

A few weeks before Passover in 2018, I had bumped into a friend at Costco who was returning to Israel. She knew my ex-pat status well. “Dorit, what are you doing still in Pittsburgh? Why don’t you go back to Israel?” The longing sat like a lump in my throat. It burned like a pancake but to a crisp and even black.  Every time someone makes aliyah to Pittsburgh, I start turning into the “grass is greener on the other side” mode. I had to confront myself and see through my longings. What were we still doing in Pittsburgh?

Our kids were in good schools. My husband was still gainfully employed. Our situation wasn’t perfect, but I still had a lot to be grateful for. But still, I had to laugh at my unemployment status in 2017 when I was laid off from my adjunct post as an ESL instructor at Duquesne University. The struggle to make ends meet as a freelancer was tearing at my soul. I knew Israel for a freelancer wasn’t any better. The competition would be even tough with an overly saturated market of English speakers.

 

What would we do if we returned to Israel? Could I leverage my newfound spirituality and just surrender that I was in God’s holy land and believe that in time and hard work, I could make it?

 

With heavy heavy hearts, we left Israel in 2007 due to my husband’s unemployment status. Now here I was in the very same boat, swimming the “unemployment sea” – filling out job applications hoping for interviews I’d be hired for a full-time position using my SEO and digital marketing skills to up my game. At coffee meetings with people I’d networked on and off for years, I tried to hide my quiet desperation but couldn’t. “I didn’t think I’d be unemployed doing the freelance thing for this long. What do you suggest?” I went straight into networking mode, looking for all the possible ways to build connections in Pittsburgh. I would discover, in time, that these efforts of trying to build accountability for myself would distract my longing. Deep down inside, I was scared. Frightened. That I’d outlive my longings. On top of that, I’d live with feelings of regret. That I’d miss the next boat to return to Israel. But I just couldn’t take the plunge even with the stress. I was afraid that the stress of return would be financially taxing. What would my husband do? It was better for him to be gainfully employed in Pittsburgh then it would be for me to find a job in Israel.

 

Then in November 2019, I found myself against all odds, subbing at a local school. It was as if I was back at my old stomping grounds but with a fully-let down heart. I left my teaching post in Israel fully burnt out. Subbing was a last resort.

During the break one day, I went into the bathroom sobbing, defeated by all the job prospects. Here I was going back into time, nearly 13 years, with nothing to show for all my hard work of networking and marketing. I couldn’t find enough long-term clients to help pay the bills. I was on a huge learning curve to find out what worked and what didn’t. I needed the peace of mind of a weekly paycheck when I was an ESL adjunct instructor in the university system. But now that was gone too. I felt as if I was swimming in nothing towards nothing.

I felt defeated by all my hard work.

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I still wake up on Sundays particularly when the work week in Israel begins, remembering how I’d rush my little redhead to the gan, throw my teaching bag into our green Volkswagon, and drive off 1 kilometer to our regional high school. The work was hard, yes, but I was filled with purpose and never had to think about networking and filling out job applications.

Now, here in Squirrel Hill, it’s a Sunday morning, like every Sunday and we’re slowly emerging from a peaceful Shabbat and once again, I have to accept with patience, another quiet day when my longings are already erupting in high-energy mode. I long to get out and serve the world with purpose instead of swimming and planning the upcoming week despite the uncertainty lurking in the background. It’s eerily quiet and yet my daughter is comforted by her Magna tiles. Still, by way of a paycheck, I have just that sub position to look forward to which has become steady yet part-time meager earning. Emotional uncertainty still rules my life.

My teenage son is still sleeping in his bed far and distant from the worries and concerns that plague him. My husband left for his sales associate job hours ago and I long for that stability that kept me grounded.

To cope, I try prioritizing my week, my head’s already swimming in a to-do list: What’s important? What’s not? I check Facebook hourly to numb my anxieties, and possibly a way to stir drama. And that’s when I start to cry. Because I know that Israel especially on these days, seems to be so far out of reach and yet all I can say, is that I don’t want to want to move my brood just to placate my longings.

Ultimately, practicality wins me over as it has for the past 13 years. How long must I live with my longing before I’m filled up with regret?