No. I’m not going to “train myself” to feel differently. I’m not going to apologize for having the feelings I have. I don’t accept the ever so subtle implication that my feelings are illegitimate. They aren’t.
Talmud Torah isn’t my mitzvah. It isn’t my calling to sit in a beis medrash all day. But you know what? Simchas Torah isn’t just a celebration of Talmud Torah. It’s a celebration of Yiddishkeit. Torah, as in the Sefer Torah that is the centerpiece of the holiday, represents our entire nationhood and way of life. And that is just as much mine as any man’s. And I feel so blessed to have been born into Am Yisrael, and so thrilled with the tremendous gift of the Torah, that I too want to dance and sing and rejoice. Sitting in a corner with the women and the crying babies is no kind of rejoicing for me. Watching the men dance doesn’t make me joyful. It makes me hurt and even resentful. I don’t like those feelings and I don’t want to feel that way on one of the happiest days on our calendar. I’d rather stay home.