When I was a kid, all I wanted to be was an adult.
I was always independent and mature for my age. According to my mom, if I was gifted a doll or a barbie, I usually just trashed it.
Except the barbie that came with the horse. I loved that horse. Pretty sure I still trashed the barbie though.
What can I say, I’m an animal lover.
I liked hanging around adults and I always had older friends.
I dreamed of the day that I would be able to make my own decisions and have autonomy.
You know how sometimes you look forward to something so much that when you finally get it, it’s a total letdown?
Yeah, that didn’t happen here.
I fucking love being an adult.
I have zero romanticism over childhood. And I had a good childhood.
But nothing beats being able to do whatever the hell you want.
I love to drive, I love to disappear for a morning without telling anyone where I’m going, and I love being in charge of my own schedule.
But my favorite part about being an adult is that you get to have your own home.
You get to set it up anyway you want, decorate it, and in my case be as messy as you want without someone telling you to clean your room.
I always resented not being able to keep my room the way I wanted to when I was a kid.
My mom was always telling me to clean it.
Rude.
I especially hated it when she said ,”The cleaning lady is coming tomorrow so today we need to clean.”
“What! Don’t you see how backwards that is?!” I would yell.
It would drive me nuts. Can’t I just have one space where I could keep it any way I want?
Once when I was 10, my mom told me to clean my room and I responded by saying “when I have a kid, I won’t make him clean his room!”
My mom laughed at me and said, “oh yeah? Care to make it interesting?”
So we actually took out a piece of paper and wrote on it:
“I, Elana Israel, will not make my child clean his/her room.
I, Nina Israel, bet Elana $100 that by the time her kid is 6, she will be making him/her clean their room.”
We both signed it, dead serious.
Well, Rafi is now 5 and a half. I probably won’t win this bet BUT I can promise you I won’t be too strict about it.
Mostly because I’m still messy.
But more importantly, because I really do value having autonomy over your own space.
Which is what has made these past 3 months so damn hard…
When our Aliyah (move to Israel) date got postponed over and over again, I had to come to terms with the reality that we were going to have to vacate our beloved condo before we were to actually leave the country.
I remember going back to the empty condo the night before I was to turn over my key.
I believe in taking moments like this to reflect.
I danced around the empty space. Then I sat down, lit a candle, meditated a bit and reflected.
This was once my marital home. This was the home I became a mother in. This was the home where my recovery evolved and turned into way more than just sobriety.
This is where I became the woman I am today.
I remember taking a deep breath as I took one last look around, left the key on the kitchen counter, and walked out.
The end of an era.
We spent the next couple of months living with my mom and step-dad.
Now, let me be clear – this was not a bad situation. Quite the contrary. They are both loving, involved parents who are crazy about my son.
But man do I struggle with not having my own home.
Not to mention living out of suitcases while being held in emotional limbo awaiting an approval from the Israeli government.
But at least we were still in America. I had my gym, my Bachata dancing, my AA meetings, my friends, and my life.
So, yes, we had to leave our condo but the rest of our life stayed intact.
Finally, 7 weeks after moving in with my mom, we left for Israel.
We moved right from my mom’s house into my dad’s apartment in Israel.
Again – NOT COMPLAINING!!
I am so grateful that we had a soft landing as opposed to figuring how to rent an apartment before even being in the country.
But again, we were not in our own home. Again, living out of suitcases and in limbo while looking for our own place.
But this time, we were not in America. We did not have our anchors, our friends, our routines.
And it was hard.
Everything feels hard when you’re in a new country. Having a sanctuary to recharge is clutch. So before that’s in place, the struggle is real.
While I dealt with the struggle by journaling, getting coached, reaching out to friends, and crying….. Rafi expressed his struggle through play.
A few weeks ago, he built himself a bedroom at school.
He took a mattress from the little kids who nap, sat on the mattress and barricaded himself with little kindergarten sized chairs.
He then proceeded to tell everyone that this was his space and that no one could come in.
Fascinating.
He also acted out a lot. He’s still acting out.
It’s really hard when your kid is not himself and you can’t help him.
There is no way to soften the shock to his system. We moved across the world.
Of course he’s acting out.
If it was socially acceptable, I would also probably build my own room. And maybe tantrum while I’m at it.
But part of the trade off of being an adult is that you have to use your tools and shit.
All that being said, you can only imagine how much we were looking forward to renting our own space.
But this is no easy feat in Israel.
The demand for housing is much higher than the supply. The prices continue to rise as the population continues to grow.
Interestingly, more and more people have been wanting to make Aliyah since the war started.
This is interesting, but not surprising.
The anti-semitism around the world right now is shocking and almost too much to think about. I’m just glad my Holocaust-surviving grandmother isn’t alive to go through it.
Right about now, living in the Jewish Homeland is tempting to many Jews and a huge relief to those who come here.
Native Israelis, on the other hand, don’t understand why anyone would move here. Every single time I meet a new Israeli and they find out I just made Aliyah, the response is always the same: “Now? Why would anyone move here now?”
This is an understandable response.
These people have been spending massive amounts of time in their bomb shelters.
I usually answer by saying, “you don’t know what you have here. It’s hard but you’re together, you’re a community. There is purpose and meaning here. In America it’s hard but you feel alone.”
They usually nod and acknowledge that it’s a good reason- although I’m not convinced they really understand what I mean.
And how could they?
If you’ve always lived in a country where your faith is celebrated, you can’t imagine what it’s like not to.
Aside from the challenge of actually FINDING an apartment, there are also the challenges of extra expenses.
In Israel, the tenant pays the taxes on the home!
And on top of that, all you get is four walls. No fridge, no stove, no basic necessities. Not even closets.
That’s right, not even closets!!
Literally, four walls.
But you can’t live without four walls so you make do.
You can only imagine how elated I felt when after weeks of searching, I found an apartment that came with all the necessities plus some luxuries!
I jumped on it.
But I quickly learned that it’s not as simple as it is in America.
You need a hefty deposit, co-signers, and even a lawyer to sign off on the whole deal!
While waiting for things to go through, I obsessed about it.
I mean, O-B-S-E-S-S-E-D!!
Then I turned it over to God and found peace. Then I decided to give that up and obsess about it some more. Then I signed my rental agreement.
Here we go.
It’s January 2nd, 2025 at 8am. My first morning waking up in the new apartment – my first home in Israel.
Rafi has been sleeping in lately so I’ve already had my hour of prayer & meditation.
I sat in the garden looking around at the orange tree, the lemon tree, the flowers, and my new friends – about 7 chickens who looked at me wondering if I will feed them.
I know today is a new beginning. But I cannot write about something I have not experienced yet.
So instead, I want to wrap up by reflecting on the end of an era.
The era of limbo.
Three months of living out of suitcases, staying with family, sharing a room with Rafi, and holding it all together…. It all ends today.
Last night, Rafi asked me how long we get to stay here.
“This is it, buddy. We’re done moving around. Welcome home.”
Looking back, I have so much to be grateful for…
Incredible family who never once made us feel bad for encroaching on their space. The ability to live rent free for a few months and save money. And really good friends in AA who have kept me anchored.
But most of all, I am grateful for my relationship with Something much bigger than me. No matter how unsettled my life may be, I can always come back to prayer and an inner knowing that all things are on God’s time.
Last night, before we even slept in our new apartment, the place was lit up with family and celebration.
It was the last night of Chanukah. There were eight of us here. We lit candles and ate delicious food that my dad cooked for everyone. My brother created an obstacle course for the kids out of the minimal furniture in the house while the women talked interior design.
It was perfect.
If we had moved here on my timeline, it all would have gone differently.
This apartment wouldn’t have been listed yet. It wouldn’t have been Chanukah. And my dad would have still been in America.
God’s brewing is far beyond my finite understanding and I have no desire to try and figure it out.
I just take a deep breath, trust the process, and enter the next era.
Elana's Aliyah Blog 
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