How to Transcend Your Isolation

An ancient Jewish proverb says, “A trouble shared is half consoled.”1

Personal struggles are made exponentially worse when we think that we’re suffering alone. We become anxious and panicky, scared that something is awfully wrong with us (“Only warped people get addicted to this stuff”). We feel isolated and lonely, distant from the people around us who don’t seem to share our issue (“My friends vacation every year, while I struggle with rent”). We experience gnawing despair, wondering if we’ll ever be “normal” again (“Can a marriage recover after a fight like that?”).

When people opened up to the Rebbe about their challenges, he would often preface (or conclude) his advice with this message: Know that you’re not the only one struggling with this. Many others are going through the same thing.

Of course, it is unfortunate that more people are suffering. But the comfort in knowing that others share our issue is not simply a symptom of selfishness, or our inability (as Yiddish-speaking grandmothers would say) to fargin—to graciously accept that others are doing better than us. Instead, discovering that many others can relate gives us a sense of belonging in a time of alienation. Importantly, it normalizes the issue. Nothing is inherently wrong with us—this is a natural, familiar human experience.

“This happens to many people,” begins a response to a young man frightened by his gripping doubts in the course of dating. “Doubts about life arise (including doubts about marriage). Don’t take this out of proportion or frighten yourself because of it.”2

This was a recurring theme in the Rebbe’s counseling on a wide variety of issues.3 For example, in a handwritten response to a woman suffering from obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), before encouraging her to consult her doctor and offering other practical advice, the Rebbe wrote:

Your doctor has surely informed you that many individuals find themselves in a similar situation to the one you describe (i.e., it seems to them they did something imperfectly, they believe their hands are not clean and they must rewash them, et al).4

Similarly concludes a letter to a young man going through a particular (unspecified) challenge that led him to live in isolation for several months and doubt his ability to build a home of his own:

Upon inquiring you will discover that others experience [difficult] occurrences like the ones you describe and nevertheless weather them. Furthermore, not all that long afterward, they even establish themselves successfully in life, and help other individuals who struggle—which, especially in such instances, is the greatest satisfaction of all. May G‑d grant you success that all this comes to be sooner than you imagine.5

This awareness can be particularly important in those turbulent years of self-discovery, when the security of childhood is lost and the level-headedness of adulthood has yet to set in. A handwritten response to a teenager who opened up to the Rebbe about her inner turmoil, and added that to do so was in itself scary, begins as follows:

There is no reason at all to be afraid of writing to me; I endeavor to assist to the best of my abilities, not to make things more difficult nor to criticize, Heaven forbid.

During transitional times in a person’s life (from childhood to adolescence, from adolescence to adulthood, etc.), one is generally more sensitive and less stable. It is therefore normal during such a time for new questions or doubts to arise. Although now these conundrums might seem insurmountable, when this stage passes you will be able to resolve them on your own, and without torment. However, in these transitional periods these dilemmas can seem very complicated. Through talking it over with someone else, they can explain to you how it can be resolved simply, etc.

What is occurring with you is happening to many others as well, and will pass with time.6

Similarly concludes a long letter to an American college student who described herself as a loner who doesn’t feel close to anyone, and wrote of her doubts and confusion:

In conclusion, I would again like to volunteer an observation, though this time in a different vein, that you should not be so downhearted, since it is not unusual for young people of your age to feel a sense of confusion, or even frustration. One needs only to feel for those who refuse to accept a helping hand from near and dear ones, including parents. I do not mean to say that one must readily submit to parental dictatorship, but neither does this mean that one should always reject parental advice and help in the hope that eventually things will straighten out themselves.7

Which leads us to our next point.

Talk to Others

“If there is worry in [your] heart,” says the Talmud, “tell it to others.”8

Don’t keep all your angst pent up inside, the Sages advise. Let someone else know about the anxious thoughts unsettling your mind and alarming your heart. This alone can ease your burden.

“Since one is only human,” concludes a letter to a young woman,

it is not unusual to lapse occasionally into a mood of discouragement. But…if you do find yourself in such a frame of mind, you should not try to conceal it…. For our Sages have said that when a person has an anxiety they should tell it to others, for getting something off one’s chest is in itself already a relief.9

The Rebbe constantly encouraged people to leave the nerve-wracking solitude of their minds and discuss their dilemmas with caring and trustworthy individuals—wise mentors, impartial family members, and “knowledgeable friends” [i.e. those who are experienced in your area of struggle and know you personally10]. He would explain how others pull you out of your subjective ruminations and—with their cumulated life experience, calming words, and practical advice—help you understand that such challenges are normal, people have been here before, and there are tried and true ways to navigate this safely. You need only take the first vulnerable step of reaching out.

It was the late 1950s, and Bessie Garelik was pregnant with her first child. She was in her early twenties, and, in addition to the physical pain, her first pregnancy generated in her a storm of emotional turmoil. She had just moved with her husband to Milan, Italy, to serve the local Jewish community, and she felt forlorn and secluded. Having previously met and corresponded with the Rebbe, she wrote a letter to him describing all she was going through.

At around the same time, her older sister, Kenny, took a trip from Pennsylvania to New York to join an annual Chasidic women’s convention in Brooklyn. On the second night of the convention, after the group visited the Rebbe, she wrote the following letter to her sister in Milan.

Dear Bess,

It’s only 2:30 a.m….

Now we’ll start not with the beginning, but with the most important. We came to 770 last night at about 8 p.m. to go in to the Rebbe… The Rebbe’s room was packed, and we filled the little balcony and half the steps. They closed the door to the outside hall so that we could all hear what the Rebbe said clearly. But it was disappointing not to see him.

[After the address,] there was still a group of women inside who were each speaking privately [to the Rebbe], and the secretary told me to wait until they were finished and see if the Rebbe would call me over. After three-quarters of an hour, the last women left and, sure enough, the Rebbe turned that delightful smile my way. The secretary closed the door and I had a private audience with the Rebbe—about you…

“In the next letter I’ll write what he said…” she teased her sister, and then continued:

Seriously, the Rebbe wanted me to write and explain to you that the discomforts that you feel now are normal and are a result of your pregnancy. This is so, Bess. I felt that way too. One expects the physical changes, but the mental [changes] or whatever you’re bothered with are as much a part of your pregnancy (especially and most times only during the first three or four months), and they will disappear as soon as you’re feeling better. So you see, you’re really just having a normal pregnancy.

The Rebbe advised that you should speak about these things to one of the women [to whom] you feel close, and you’ll find that in discussing them they will get lighter, and soon, G‑d willing, disappear.”11

In addition to the psychological benefits of opening up to another, there is a spiritual perk as well.

Spiritual Math

As we have seen (in chapter 6), Kabbalah teaches that everything in our imperfect world, including human beings, are composed of both good and bad.12

But there is a fundamental difference between these two forces.13 The bad is sourced in a world of division and discord. Being egotistical and narcissistic, it seeks only to grow its own dominance, and thus views other people as hostile competitors for attention, success, and power. The good, on the other hand, feels itself part of a greater divine whole and thus always seeks to bond with others.

The Chasidic master Rabbi Dovber Shneuri (the second Rebbe of Chabad, 1773–1827) taught that this notion gives us a glimpse into what happens spiritually when two friends have a heart-to-heart conversation:

The negative sides within each of the two friends are too egotistical to combine forces. Only the good sides within them unite as one. So each of their negative sides now face a two-to-one ratio—both of their good sides are effectively teamed up against their disjointed negative sides. Thus, just by talking, the two friends each find themselves in a far stronger position to overcome their personal struggles. As Rabbi Dovber phrased it, “It is now two divine souls against one animalistic soul.”14

This letter to a young man sums it up:

In addition to the fact that you certainly already consult with the elders of the community, you should have a true friend, meaning one before whom you can reveal what is pressing on your heart. There is a known teaching of the Sages that, “If there is worry in [your] heart, tell it to others.” Regarding this teaching, the Mitteler Rebbe [the “Middle Rebbe,” as Rabbi Dovber is commonly referred to] explained that this way there are two divine souls competing against one animalistic soul. And the benefits of this are clearly evident.15

Be There for Others

When studying this theme in both the Rebbe’s private counseling and public teachings, one senses an escalating insistency, even urgency, as the years go by. Again and again, he would emphasize, with growing emotion, how vital it is that we talk to one another, how much we will gain in the process, and how much stronger we will all become as a result.

It appears as though the Rebbe was addressing an increasingly fragmented society, where individuals presume they must guess their way through life’s unnerving complexities wholly on their own. His words seem to ask, almost beseech: Why should you carry all that weight yourself? Why should you navigate this winding path without a guide? Reach out to a mentor you respect. Listen to their caring advice. Consult with a friend who knows. Be humble enough to let them help you. There are such treasures of wisdom, of empathy, of shared life experience in us and around us—if only we open our hearts to each other.

Indeed, along with the Rebbe’s encouragement to consult with others, he also emphatically urged people to make themselves available to others, both practically and emotionally. For one, he said, advising others will enlighten you as well, as the Sages taught, “More than from my teachers and friends—I’ve learned from my students.”16 But far more importantly, being there for others is the natural outgrowth of the Torah’s foundational commandment, “Love your fellow as yourself.”17

A handwritten note to community activists under financial strain and struggling to raise funds reads as follows:

Consult with knowledgeable friends. [As] friends [they] will certainly take interest in your situation in all its details. For “love your fellow as yourself” is 1) a principle 2) foundational 3) to the Torah. I will mention this [in prayer] at my father-in-law’s resting place.18

The Rebbe invokes here the teaching of the Talmudic sage Rabbi Akiva (1st-2nd century CE)—that loving your fellow as yourself is a “foundational principle in the Torah”19—and illustrates how each of Rabbi Akvia’s words vests new significance into this mandate. For it’s not just another dictum, but a principle. And not just any principle, but a foundational principle, over and above all other principles. And it’s not a foundational principle of just anything—it is a foundational principle of the sacred Torah, the eternal book of life. Thus, the Rebbe assures these individuals in the midst of a financial nightmare that they can feel completely confident reaching out to experienced friends. Considering the towering importance of being there for others, there’s no doubt that their friends will be happy to give abundantly of their time and expertise to help them through their difficult situation.

A different world is envisioned here. If only we take up the Torah’s directive to “love your fellow as yourself,” if only we heed Chassidism’s calling to unconditionally bond with others remembering our shared divine soul—then there will be no more need for costly measures to heal all the painful ailments that festered in isolation. The Chasidic love and generosity of spirit will fortify us to begin with. In the words of Isaiah that the Rebbe often quoted: “Each person helps his fellow and to his brother he says, ‘Take courage!’”20

On this note, a short story.

Yitzchak Gansburg, or “Itchke” as he was commonly called, was an impassioned Chasidic man. Born in Soviet Russia to a Chasidic family in 1928, Gansburg felt an intimate bond with the Rebbe and wished to see him in person. However, even after he immigrated to Israel, for many years this remained impossible due to visa complications and financial constraints. Finally, for the High Holiday season of 1957, his dream came to fruition. Throughout his month-long stay in New York he wrote detailed letters to his family describing his cathartic experiences of spiritual ecstasy.

Unbeknownst to him, Leib Levin, his old-time friend from their shared youth in Russia, had also made the trip to New York to see the Rebbe. In years gone by, they had often spent evenings together discussing their inner struggles, and encouraging each other to remain strong in spirit and resilient in action in the face of hardship and failure. However, many years back, Levin moved to France, and the two friends had not been able to see each other since then.

In one letter home, Gansburg described the following moment:

It was 7:15 p.m. and evening prayers were about to begin. Suddenly, my friend Leib Levin from Paris materialized before me.

I cannot describe to you my inner joy upon seeing this dear and beloved friend. Tears appeared in my eyes and we heartily embraced.

At that very moment, the door of the Rebbe’s study opened and he entered the sanctuary. We immediately stood still—but it turns out that the Rebbe had already glimpsed our embrace. He looked at us and a soft smile spread over his saintly face. He went [back] to his study for a short moment and immediately returned for evening prayers.

Later, I heard that the Rebbe had remarked:

“This is the meaning of Chasidic love.”21

To a young woman in doubt while dating someone for marriage:

It is possible that after you meet with him again a decision will become clear to you. If you still have doubts—discuss them open-heartedly with a friend (your parents?). Make your decision according to how [you feel after] you talk and hear your friend’s reaction, and may G-d grant you success. I will mention you in prayer at the resting place of my father-in-law.

(What is the mother’s name of the young man [you’re meeting, so I can pray for him as well?])

If you are struggling in a particular area in your life (say, work pressure, parenting, addiction, depression, or anything else), remember the following:

It may not appear this way, but many people—perhaps even in your immediate surroundings—deal with issues similar to yours. There is no reason to berate yourself or panic; you are going through a perfectly normal human experience.

On a practical level, you don’t need to go it alone. There are caring and competent individuals to consult with. Reach out to someone with insight in this area. Open up to a trustworthy friend.

This will ease your emotional isolation, provide you with fresh perspective, and strengthen your fortitude to successfully navigate life’s challenges.

So far we’ve explored essential outlooks for a healthy self: to be a giver, to know you’re not alone, to recognize your special purpose.

We’ve surveyed lifestyle habits necessary for solid emotional health: to ensure your body has what it needs, to have a productive occupation, to maintain structure in your day, to remain socially engaged, to routinely practice mitzvot—G‑dly acts.

We’ve discussed ways to cope with common emotional challenges, such as discontent, worry, mood swings, or self-criticism.

We’ve gained tools for easing the mental and emotional tension around struggles: to not indulge or battle those anxious thoughts but instead change the topic, to know you’re normal and not alone, to open up and consult with a knowledgeable friend.

However, everything in this book hinges on one underlying foundation, without which no growth is possible: the courage to change.