Chani Lipschitz: Anxiety in a Bag of Nuts

Her beautiful face was completely pale. 'I can't... I can't breathe,' she stammered quietly, all trembling.

*

That morning at the Chabad House, the house was relatively quiet. I was still finishing cleaning up from breakfast when the door suddenly opened.

A young woman, her eyes squinting, entered quickly. She didn’t see me right away.

'Is everything okay?' I asked, approaching her, trying not to stress her more than she already was.

'Breathe,' I said gently. 'I’m here, it will pass. Sit with me for a moment.'

She sat down slowly, and I sat next to her, trying to keep quiet. I immediately realized it was a panic attack.

'You're not alone, I’m here. With you.'

She paused for a moment, trying to control her breathing. 'I can’t... it’s not going away,' she stammered, her eyes glazed over.

'Let’s breathe together,' I told her.

She just nodded, struggling to speak.

'What happened before it started?' I asked gently.

She didn’t answer immediately, just tried to breathe more slowly. Finally, she blurted out with frustration: 'Everyone here is so determined. They know exactly which trek to go on, which mountain to climb, and with whom to connect... and only I don’t know! I don’t know anything! I always feel like I’m chasing something, living in a story where everyone succeeds except me. I no longer know what I’m supposed to do with my life. Every step I take—I compare it to others. Every step isn’t enough. I’m living on fumes of fear. Fear that someone else will live this life better.'

'I understand you,' I said.

Because sometimes I also feel like that, as if everything is clear to the whole world... and I can't always manage to fit into it.

'There is a story,' I told her, 'that I always remember when I feel like this. A farmer goes to the market with a bag full of nuts. He walked, and the nuts began to fall—one after the other. He can’t keep up!

'He runs after each nut, trying to pick them up as fast as possible. In the end, he stands there, tired and confused, until he understands: he can’t pick them all up at once!

'So he stops, sits down, and starts collecting the nuts one by one.'

She was silent for a moment. 'So what does that mean?' she asked, confused.

'It means,' I said to her gently, 'that sometimes we try to pick up more than we can. We try to hold all the fears, all the expectations, all the dreams of others—and in doing so, we forget ourselves.

'You don’t have to fight it. You can slow down, take a breath, and give yourself the time to gather what is yours, step by step.'

She didn’t say anything, just sat there quietly, and suddenly there was no need for more words. She got up, and as she turned to leave, she stopped, then smiled at me a small smile.

'Thank you, Chani,' she said. 'I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s like all the... all the heaviness just evaporated. Like I have room to breathe. Like I don’t have to be everyone.'

I smiled back at her, also breathing that air.

'You don’t need to be everyone,' I said quietly, 'you need to be you. And that’s enough.'

She left, and I sat on the couch for a long time. In the quiet.

Not sure if it’s the quiet she was looking for, or the quiet I’m looking for...

But suddenly I also feel like I’m able to gather my own nuts.

Slowly.

One after the other.

And here they are, all gathered in the bag...