Overall, I believe the Poland trip was an incredible and irreplaceable experience. While it was a difficult trip, I could not have asked for a better group of people to accompany me. I felt so supported by my friends, who now feel more like family, and I did my best to do the same for them. I undeniably struggled emotionally on this trip. I am typically not a very emotional person and the nature of our Poland trip was difficult for me. At the camps, I could not bring myself to feel anything. I simply felt numb. The one emotion I did not struggle with, however, was love. I felt so much love for all of the people on the program who have become my family, and so much love and gratitude for the life I have. This love also extended to something at a level of passion I did not expect: the state of Israel. At Majdanek after seeing the mountain of ashes, I had never felt prouder to be representing Israel. I held up its flag as it billowed in the wind as a sign of appreciation and love for the state that serves to protect the Jews in the way Europe failed to. On the last night, I belted Hatikva in pride and excitement to return to Israel. I have struggled with my identity as a Zionist in America and Israel alike, but in Poland I could not believe I ever even questioned it.

I was told there is no wrong way to feel when visiting Poland and that each person responds to the difficult nature of the trip differently, but I cannot help but feel like I did not express my emotions correctly. I did not cry at any of the camps and nothing really affected me. All I could think about most of the time was how beautiful my surroundings were. It felt so wrong to think like that, as so many people suffered at these sites. Perhaps I did not let myself feel the pain and sadness that my peers did, or perhaps I just needed more time to process than they did. It was not until I learned about the shooting in Thousand Oaks, California that my emotional buildup transformed into a panic attack, which then turned into a trough of sadness. I felt betrayed by humanity both from the Shoah and current events in America, and I could not shake the feeling. The last day, at the Bucyna forest, I feel like I was finally able to recognize and properly feel my emotions. When we had our discussion about our childhood experiences, I felt so overwhelmed with love for everyone. When we finished, our madrich handed us each a letter from our parents. I did not even get through the first paragraph before I began to cry, not even because of the content but because I missed my family and I was already emotionally fragile. In the letter, my parents spoke of the oppression my family faced on both sides, Nazi invasion of Poland on my father’s side and Castro’s oppressive regime on my mother’s. They wrote of how these aspects of my family history have helped composed my character, and while I should appreciate their sacrifices I should not let them define me. This resonated with me as I have seen the effects of people who cannot break through the suffocation of pain and the confinement of the word “victim.” I felt so connected to my roots and to Poland at this moment, and I was incredibly proud to carry on the legacy that the rest of my grandfather’s family never could. I am beyond grateful to be alive and thriving right now, and I thank G-d everyday that I have the luxury to fulfill this line that my parents blessed upon me: “May you always be surrounded by love and beauty and never have to witness the suffering that those before us did”.