From Loneliness to Fulfillment

It was a humid Saturday night in New York City in August of 2010. My new boyfriend, Daniel, was on a month-long comedy tour of South Africa, and I was walking to the subway after hanging out with my friend in Midwood, Brooklyn. Though she lived in a religious Jewish neighborhood, she was a secular Jew, so we spent the day shopping and eating sushi.

As I was heading home, I felt depressed and lonely – like the city was caving in on me, like I was lost. I liked seeing my friend, but the fun didn’t last after we said goodbye. I thought about how I wouldn’t be able to sleep that night, how I wanted so badly for Daniel to come home already.

And then, I passed an Orthodox Jewish man with a long beard and a black hat walking down the street. He was holding pizza boxes, and smiled as his four little children giggled and ran around him. 

“What a nice way to spend a Saturday night,” I thought. 

I hoped that one day, I could have something like that: spending time with my own children, eating pizza and having fun with them on a Saturday night. 

I hadn’t yet begun my conversion process, but I knew that prioritizing my family would be a key part of my life if I were to become an Orthodox Jew. 

Growing up, I didn’t have that strong family life at home. My mom and dad got divorced when I was five years old. After they split up, my mom became a nurse and often had to work 16-hour shifts, which meant that I’d be home with a babysitter on Saturday nights. When I got older, I spent Saturday nights by myself, watching movies and eating a large pizza all on my own. I’d try to fill the loneliness in my soul with food. I’d feel good for about ten minutes, and then more depressed than ever once I realized it didn’t work.

This pattern continued into my college years, when my roommates would go home on the weekend and I’d be alone in my apartment, eating pizza and watching whatever was on TV, wishing I had someone to hang out with. Those moments were the hardest, the ones where I couldn’t easily distract myself, where I’d contemplate what I was doing with my life and the meaning of it and why I was put on this earth. 

There had to be more to life than this, I thought.

When I started going to my local Chabad with Daniel for Friday night dinner and learning about Judaism, I suddenly found that purpose. I was here for a reason. I had a special mission to carry out, which was to do good in the world and follow in the ways of Hashem and the Torah. 

A real game changer for me was keeping Shabbat. In the past, I spent Saturdays listless, going to the grocery store or wandering around New York City until I got lost or just feeling bored because I had so much free time and no idea what to do with myself.

Shabbat gave me a much-needed break from technology and precious time with other people, where I could build real connections and feel fulfilled. I could hand my worries over to Hashem on this day and relinquish control for once.

Shabbat gave me a much-needed break from technology and precious time with other people, where I could build real connections and feel fulfilled. I could hand my worries over to Hashem on this day and relinquish control for once. I could just be.

That good feeling from Shabbat carried over into Saturday night and the entire week. It centered me.

This past week, I reflected on my journey over the past 14 years. It was a Saturday night, and I was at the local kosher pizza shop, picking up a pizza for my daughters, my husband and me. I realized: I had manifested my dream. 

As we sat around eating pizza and watching “Mary Poppins,” I thanked Hashem for this tremendous blessing. I was no longer lonely, no longer searching.

Instead, I felt happy, I felt satisfied and I felt fulfilled. 

Baruch Hashem.

What gives your life purpose and meaning? Email me: Kylieol@JewishJournal.com.

Kylie Ora Lobell is the Community Editor of the Jewish Journal.