You always told me I’m an amazing person. Recently, though, I’ve been doubting it
This is a letter from your daughter. You know, the beautiful one, the smart one, the outgoing one. The one who did well in school, was always surrounded by friends, and had a great GO job. The one who got accepted to the seminary of her choice, who aced her way through college, and who landed her dream job.
The one who has always managed to walk the narrow line between tzniyus and trendy without slipping off. The one who everyone teased about how she would be “the first one in her grade to get engaged.” The one who didn’t have to carry any of society’s harsh labels: isn’t overweight, doesn’t take any medication, and who isn’t the sibling to someone who is struggling religiously. The one who always loved to play mommy, dollhouse, and kallah.
The one who’s still single.
You always told me I’m an amazing person.
Recently, though, I’ve been doubting it.
I’m slowly starting to become envious of my friends who are already having their second or third child. Does this make me a bad person? I’d like to think not. It’s just hard, really hard, to leave another wedding, alone, or hear about another classmate having a baby.
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