Poser, hypocrite, mussar-Marrano, wannabe. These are few labels that linger in my head right now, regarding myself. Assessment that one blew it is part of the risk of having “free choice”. Like my Hoover vacuum, I just suck it up and sometimes change the bag.
I attempt to be a “good Yid”. I make it minyan at least twice a day (working on 3 times), I think about my brachos when I make them, I learn (although not as much I should), yet I fall short. Part of, if not the real attraction I’ve always had to Mussar is that I’m not always a nice person. I usually keep myself in check but some days are easier than others. I am a so-so husband and am OK Abba most of the time. Usually I’m fairly patient with people (family included) but yesterday wasn’t one of those days. I was a creep. Lost it big time. There’s not much to say or write when all of the effort you make to treat others as betzlem Elokeim seems to fly out the window when you are in a bad mood.
“I’m sorry,” only goes so far, which is why I’m thankful that I have the Rambam’s Hilchos Teshuva to give me real steps, especially the whole until-you-are-in-the-same-place-and-don’t-make-the-same-mistake-you-haven’t-really-done-teshuva step. When it come to relationships, especially with those we love, there is constant retooling and recalibration, so those opportunities to see if you really did teshuva are plenty.
I get it. Chometz is akin to the Yetzer Hora. So, I guess I’ve been deep frying Jason’s Flavored bread crumbs in Japanese bread crumbs and then just breaking them for the heck of it, b/c I feel like my Yetzer is on overdrive. Time to turn of the engine and coast into the service station.
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