My Teshuvah

And so another year passes us by. Rosh Hashanah has been and gone, but its message lingers. It’s more than a date on the calendar; it’s a moment to pause, reflect, and begin again.

That being said, I don’t want to become a “new me.” I’m not seeking reinvention. I want to build on who I already am. To grow. To become more confident, more self-assured. But not to erase the version of myself shaped by experience and quiet resilience.

I suppose you could say this blog is part of that growth. It’s me choosing to speak, even when silence oftentimes feels safer.

I’ve spent the past few years watching the world twist itself into knots. Truths distorted. Antisemitism normalised. Voices silenced. I’ve spoken up here and there: a post on Facebook, a shared story on Instagram, a quiet act of advocacy at work. But it doesn’t feel like enough. And while I’m not sure anything ever will feel like enough, I’m going to try my best.

So here I am, starting ShetlScribe.

This blog is my quiet rebellion. My living diary. My letter to the world.

I live in a small village in the UK. There’s no big Jewish community here, and my family is small. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t get lonely sometimes… even a bit scary. Especially in a world that feels increasingly hostile to Jews.

But what I do have, my family, my faith, my history, is precious. I want to protect it. I want to speak from it. And I want to write from it.

Teshuvah, return, isn’t just about repentance. It’s about returning home. And this blog is part of that homecoming.

Emotionally, I’m trying to care for myself more gently, and to extend that same gentleness to how I treat others. In how I listen, how I speak, and how I show up. I want my words to heal not harm. Spiritually, I’m returning to faith: lighting Shabbos candles, studying scripture and ethics. Delving deeper into philosophy and the questions that keep me up at night.

I don’t know who will read this. Maybe no one. Maybe someone who stumbles here filled with hate. Maybe someone who feels alone in their beliefs, their grief, their longing. I hope you find something here that speaks to you, even if it’s just a whisper.

What I do know is that I promise to write with honesty, to wrestle with ideas and to stand by my truth.

Shana Tova.