1. Having feelings.
2. Healing from my trauma.
3. Standing up for myself.
4. Setting boundaries, and holding fast to them.
5. Being Jewish, and caring about Israel and the Jewish people.
6. Being Jewish, and caring about non-Jewish people.
7. Eating cake on my birthday, and sometimes on my unbirthday.
8. Taking a long time to put my laundry away sometimes.
9. Resting when my body tells me to, and learning how to listen to those signals.
10. Missing my old dog, even while loving on my current dog.
11. Having an inability to fall asleep without medication.
12. Making the decision to have only one child.
13. Praying for peace for everyone — yes, everyone.
14. Buying more new books before I get around to reading new books I already have.
15. Being smart and articulate.
16. Being a Red Sox fan.
17. Having a tendency to be clumsy and accident-prone.
18. Using the F word.

Okay, some of the items on the above list might seem a bit silly, and it’s okay to chuckle at them. Here’s the point, though. Yom Kippur is a time where Jews atone for their wrongdoings, apologize and seek forgiveness. We seek forgiveness from each other, from ourselves, and from G-d. There’s no such thing as perfection; everyone has something they need to consider atoning for, great or small, multitudinous or singular.

In light of the last year, how do we reconcile this concept with the fact that so much of the world is unfairly blaming us Jews for so much that’s going wrong? It’s difficult to own up to anything when we seem to be getting blamed for everything; Yom Kippur is hard enough without the crushing weight of being held responsible for the world’s problems. We’re now constantly on the defensive. I mean, the Israeli army is literally called the Israeli DEFENSE Forces for goodness’ sake.

I’m a Libra, so I’m not surprised by my answer, which is that we must strive to strike a balance. We need to consider what needs to be truly addressed in our atonement, what needs to be forgiven or released, as well as where we need to place our boundaries, so that we don’t compromise too much of ourselves in our quest for peace.

It’s the idea that while we want love and light and heat for all, we should not be expected to set ourselves on fire in order to keep other people warm.

This is true in the context of those caught under the thumb of narcissistic abuse and trauma, but it also resonates like a clanging gong for Jews around the world today. We’ve been gaslit and talked over and ignored and mocked and flat-out harassed and assaulted by a world who finds us to be too convenient a scapegoat, who’d rather manipulate the narrative to fit their own ends and then turn around to accuse us of doing exactly that. I teach my students that it is important to respect other people’s perspectives and narratives, but never at our own expense.

I have things to atone for this year during Yom Kippur. We all do.

But never ever will I apologize for being a Jew, or for talking and writing about it, especially not because it might make anyone angry or uncomfortable. I am allowed to take up space. I will not set myself on fire to keep other people warm.