Hanukkah is a full week away, and Christmas is over two weeks after that. But Christmas, as usual at this time of year, pervades everything. It is everywhere, including in my head, because my brain usually grabs the last piece of music it heard, and then plays it on repeat.

In an act of defiance and perhaps a smidge of desperation, this week I hauled out my Hanukkah bins. The surfaces in my house are now covered in dreidels, menorahs, and pretty fabrics covered with symbols of the holiday.

Out in the real world, I continue on as if nothing is different. I am like everyone else. No one blinked when I bought a poinsettia today as a gift for my neighbor. It was an entirely normal thing to do.

I feel as though I am in disguise, hiding my true self as I move through a world that has nothing to do with me.

Today, I care far more about the tenuous ceasefire between Israel and Hamas than the clamor of holiday celebrations around me. So my tears of joy for strangers returning home from captivity in Gaza are shed alone.

Heightening this internal tension is my knowledge that many Jews don’t feel as I do. I recently was with a close friend who carefully said, “Does it matter to you that I don’t share your political viewpoint?” I paused, blinked, and stammered that no, it doesn’t bother me.

It reminded me to be careful when speaking with others, Jews and non-Jews, knowing that not everyone — even those I care about — agrees with me.

That caution was heightened during my Thanksgiving travels, when I abandoned the kippah (yarmulke) that I normally wear. Instead, I wore a Jewish star necklace, which I refused to tuck into my sweater.

Yesterday while sitting in traffic, I realized that the driver in the next lane was staring. I have a small Israeli flag that is “flying” from the dashboard in my car. I pointedly refused to look back at him. But as the light changed and we pulled forward, I realized that he had a hamsah hanging from his rearview mirror.

It was a small reminder that I am not alone. We are not alone. This morning, I put on my kippah before leaving the house. Am Yisrael chai. The Jewish people live.