Resourcing on Shlichus

Growing up in a Chabad household, the air we breathed was thick with purpose. The Rebbe taught a profound sense of responsibility, a blueprint my parents passed down to us with absolute devotion. Know Alef, teach Alef. Go on mivtzoyim (mitzvah campaigns). Hand out matzah before Pesach. Bake, smile, host, give. It was, in so many ways, a beautiful and sacred way to live. To this day, my siblings and I are givers in massive, non-self-serving ways. We learned what the Rebbe called being ibergegeben; giving of oneself to G-d and the community in a way that serves a purpose far greater than the individual. But as a child, it was also undeniably hard. And for a sensitive soul, it was exhausting.

What I didn’t know then; but understand deeply now, is how my nervous system is wired. I am an empath, an introvert, and a person with heightened sensitivity. Living in a bustling household with seven children, a revolving door of visitors, religious obligations, and the undercurrents of conflict and stress that come with a high-stakes life of service, my body was in a constant state of hyper-activation. My young mind couldn't articulate the overwhelm, but my body responded in kind. At the age of 12, I developed anorexia, a physical manifestation of trying to control an uncontrollable environment. By 13, this morphed into bulimia, continuing through my 20s alongside obsessive, plaguing thoughts about my weight, my worthiness, and my friendships.

By the time Sunday rolled around (after a grueling schedule of shul, running children’s services, and constantly sharing our home and energy) I was utterly burnt out. I wanted to stay home. I was moody and frustrated, and hate to admit, but I wasn’t pleasant to be around. But staying home meant being deeply, profoundly alone while our parents were out attending community weddings, Bar Mitzvahs, and Bat Mitzvahs. My siblings and I were all in our own separate worlds, floating in the same hyperactive sea, just trying to maintain some semblance of normality. My cup, while poured out beautifully for others, was completely empty.

Years later, when I began studying counseling and Somatic Experiencing (SE), a lightbulb finally switched on. I discovered the concept of Resourcing, which is the practice of identifying and connecting with positive internal or external supports that help your nervous system return to a state of calm, safety, and stability. Somatic Experiencing and Polyvagal Theory offer a brilliant framework for understanding the trauma of chronic overwhelm. It explains what the body does when trapped in fight or flight, and introduces resourcing as the mechanism to bring a highly activated or under-activated nervous system back to baseline. It builds your capacity to process life by establishing an embodied anchor of safety. The very thing that feels unsafe and uncomfortable to a sensitive nervous system; the body itself, is taught to be engaged with in small, meaningful, intentional ways that you can balance and swing to and from.

Looking back, my struggles with eating disorders and body dysmorphia were survival adaptations to chronic busyness. While friendships would have been a vital part of my healing, I needed deeper, somatic support to comfort myself, slow things down, and practice boundary exercises to stop the absorption of all the intensity around me.

I remain incredibly grateful for my upbringing, and I want to validate how beautiful, holy, and deeply meaningful a life of shlichus or community giving truly is. It takes immense heart and dedication to live for a higher purpose, and you deserve to be commended for that devotion. At the same time, it is completely real, normal, and valid that this lifestyle places an extraordinary, heavy burden on a developing child's nervous system. You can love this way of life and still acknowledge that it is deeply exhausting for your family. I want to give you the confidence to know that recognizing this strain does not mean you are failing your mission; rather, protecting your children's well-being is the very thing that will make your legacy sustainable and beautiful.

For shlichus families and community givers, healing begins with understanding Dr. Bruce Perry’s sequence of engagement: Regulate, Relate, Reason. Before we can expect children to reason through their religious obligations or happily relate to guests, their nervous systems must be regulated. A child trapped in a hyper-activated survival state cannot give authentically. We must create designated windows for our children to slow down, anchor themselves, and physically discharge the sensory overload of a bustling, high-intensity home.

Furthermore, we must recognize that children do not just need our time and attention, they need to be understood. In a communal home, a child can get attention for helping out or being polite, but still feel completely invisible. True attunement means seeing who your child is behind the role they play in the community. It means recognizing the quiet introvert who is drowning in a sea of visitors, or validating the sensitive soul who absorbs the unspoken tension and conflict in the house. When a child feels truly understood, their nervous system registers a profound sense of safety that counteracts the stress of a hyperactive world.

Crucially, integrating this care into Chassidic life is not a departure from our values—it is the ultimate fulfillment of them through the concept of Avodah Begashmius (serving G-d through the material world). The Baal Shem Tov revolutionized our understanding of spirituality by teaching that a small hole in the body causes a massive hole in the soul. He emphasized that maintaining physical health, resting, and genuinely caring for the body is a holy act, because you cannot serve Hashem properly if your vessel is broken or depleted. Taking care of your nervous system and your physical body isn't a distraction from your service; it is your service. When we resource ourselves and our families, we are sanctifying the physical vessel so that it has the actual strength, stamina, and vitality required to channel holiness into the world.

There is so much more to be added here about implementing practical internal and external resourcing strategies, establishing healthy boundary exercises, and balancing communal devotion with family sanctuary. You do not have to navigate this delicate balance alone, and you are entirely capable of creating a home that honors both your sacred calling and your children's well-being. If you are looking for guidance, strategies, or a safe space to unpack these dynamics, you are welcome to contact me for more information and support.