There really was nothing much I could put my finger on.
(Dummie Me -- More recently I came to realiuze that a rabbi's ongoing sexual harrassment of me for fourteen years of my adult life had played a major part in my turning my back on Judaism. But it was not the only reason; spiritual seeking in the 70s, 80s and 90s had also played important roles as did my many upsets about the Middle East.
The story of my being a former anti-Semitic, recovcrying Jewish American Princess is a complex story. However, now as I become more and more accustomed to sharing my story and hearing the tales of others, it's even developing some humor.)
I wondered about it on occasion. Yet, not enough to pursue.
To the point that – as my non-Jewish connections grew -- I became staunchly adamant that not only was I NOT a Jew. I was, further, an anti-Semite!
I didn’t really question my stance (though others did, now and then).
Somehow – I simply became less and less interested in Jews and Jewishness.
So much so that, over time, I believed none of it mattered anymore.
Time passed. I became an eclectically spiritual person, more pantheistic than anything, exploring Buddhism and neo-paganism in particular, not recognizing any missing link in my spirit.
Others around me, Jews and non-Jews alike, were doing similarly.
It was, after all, the '80s by then. I developed fewer and fewer Jewish friendships.
Over time, I came to respect the generic Jewish person and his/her apparent values less and less, particularly the monied and status-oriented ones.
These appeared akin to those of my family that I experienced as excessive. I didn’t “approve” of the immoderation.
This, too, fit in with the evolving mentality of my generation.
Though I tried to ignore my feelings they didn’t go away. Instead, they went underground, buried beneath the surface of my conscious mind. Accessible, only if I would have been willing to take a deeper look. I resisted any inclination to do this. I understand this now.
Years passed. Because I was, also, during this time devoting my time to my almost constant book deadlines (ten years (1988 – 1998, writing my three manuscripts for Random House) -- and -- then lost my eyesight (1998 – 2003), I created a very solitary life for myself.
And, believed that this, too, was fine. Of course, 911 made a profound impact on me.
However, because I could only see as if through waxed paper, much of what was happening around me did not penetrate. I couldn’t really watch the news.
And, I interacted with others only slightly. Then one day -- in 2006 – as I was still at the beginning of my return to the mainstream world of sighted people, I realized that I had amends to make to my Jewish heritage.
Separation was not truly an option I could condone any longer in myself.
In fact, I began to see that in order to fully re-engage in mainstream life, I would need to sort out where I stood with this Jewish heritage of mine.