Narrator: Imagine being a high-flying executive at a company like Facebook, with a successful career and a loving family. From the outside, you have it all. But internally, you're a prisoner, tormented by a constant, crippling anxiety that dictates your every move. This was the reality for Michal Oshman. On her first day at Facebook's UK office, a question stenciled on the wall stopped her in her tracks: "What would you do if you weren't afraid?" For Oshman, the answer was devastatingly simple: she would live. This question ignited a profound journey away from conventional therapy, which had left her feeling trapped in her past, and toward an unexpected source of healing.

In her book, Break Your Chains, Oshman reveals how she found the tools to dismantle her internal prison not in modern psychology, but in the ancient, practical wisdom of Jewish teachings. It’s a guide to understanding that our deepest anxieties are not a sickness to be cured, but a sign that our soul is yearning for something more.

Narrator: The book begins with a powerful reframing of a core Jewish story: the exodus from Egypt. Oshman learns that in Hebrew, the word for Egypt, Mitzrayim, also means "narrow places" or "limitations." This transforms the story from a historical event into a potent metaphor for personal freedom. The real exodus isn't just from a physical place, but from the internal "Egypt" we all carry within us—the narrow straits of our fears, limiting beliefs, and self-imposed restrictions.

Oshman realized that despite her external success, she was living in her own Mitzrayim. Her anxiety was a self-made slavery, built on worst-case scenarios and a deep-seated fear of not being enough. Traditional therapy had focused on her past, effectively keeping her chained to it. The discovery of Jewish wisdom offered a different path. It taught her that true freedom doesn't come from escaping our circumstances, but from breaking the internal chains that hold us captive. The first step to breaking free is recognizing that you are the one holding the key to your own prison.

Narrator: After years of therapy that focused on her childhood trauma—including a harrowing memory of seeing a dead body in the morgue where her pathologist father worked—Oshman felt defined by her wounds. Therapists treated her like a patient whose past had scarred her forever, a product of her conditioning. But this approach never brought lasting peace.

A turning point came when she discovered the Tanya, a foundational text of Hasidic thought. It described the soul, or Neshama, as a flame that naturally flickers upward, always striving to break free from the wick and connect with its source. Suddenly, her anxiety wasn't a pathology; it was the symptom of a healthy, vibrant soul yearning to grow, to break free from its constraints. This insight was revolutionary. It meant her inner angst wasn't a sign that she was broken, but a sign that her soul was alive and fighting for a more meaningful existence. The goal, then, wasn't to extinguish this feeling, but to understand what it was reaching for.

Narrator: Oshman found that a life governed by fear is often a life without a clear purpose. This creates what psychiatrist Viktor Frankl called an "existential vacuum," a deep sense of meaninglessness that breeds anxiety and despair. The antidote, she learned, is a concept called Bittul, or self-nullification. This doesn't mean self-annihilation; it means quieting the ego's constant demands of "What do I need?" and instead asking, "What am I needed for?"

This shift from getting to giving is transformative. Oshman shares the story of a businessman who, having lost everything, complained to Rabbi Shneur Zalman. The rabbi didn't offer sympathy. Instead, he asked, "I'm hearing a lot about what you need. But have you ever considered what you are needed for?" This question forces a change in perspective. By focusing on our unique strengths and how we can use them to serve others, we fill the existential vacuum. Purpose becomes the fuel that pushes fear into the background.

Narrator: The author recounts the story of her grandmother, Chana, who was herded onto a Nazi train bound for Auschwitz. Sensing doom, Chana found a small crack in the train car, squeezed through, and jumped from the moving train into a hail of gunfire. She acted without a guarantee of survival, driven by a primal instinct to move forward.

This harrowing story embodies a core Jewish teaching from Rebbe Nachman of Breslov: "The whole world is a very narrow bridge, and the main thing is to have no fear at all." Life will always present us with terrifying, narrow bridges—career changes, difficult conversations, personal loss. Fear can paralyze us, keeping us from crossing. Oshman argues that the principle is not to eliminate fear, but to act in spite of it. Action must precede clarity. Just as her grandmother jumped without knowing what lay below, we must often take the first step onto our own narrow bridges. The courage to act, even in a small way, is what allows us to cross from a place of paralysis to a place of possibility.

Narrator: At age 23, Oshman experienced a devastating heartbreak that left her feeling shattered. For two years, she was lost in grief, believing she would be broken forever. Yet, looking back, she realized this period of brokenness, or Shvira, was essential for her growth. It cracked her open, creating space for new wisdom, maturity, and a deeper capacity for love.

Jewish wisdom teaches that there is "nothing more complete than a broken heart." This is beautifully symbolized by the story of the Ten Commandments. When Moses came down Mount Sinai and saw the Israelites worshipping a golden calf, he smashed the holy tablets. However, the broken pieces were not discarded. They were placed in the Ark of the Covenant right alongside the second, whole set of tablets. This teaches a profound lesson: our mistakes, our failures, and our heartbreaks are not meant to be thrown away. They are a sacred part of our story, reminders of our resilience and capacity for growth. Our brokenness is what ultimately makes us complete.

Narrator: Oshman shares a deeply personal story about her childhood. Plagued by nightmares, she would creep into her parents' room. Without a word, her mother would sense her presence and shift over, making a space for her in the bed. This simple, silent act of making space, known in Kabbalah as Tzimtzum (contraction), is a powerful tool for connection and healing. Just as God contracted His infinite presence to create space for the world, we can contract our egos and opinions to make space for others to exist, grow, and be heard.

This principle is the foundation for Tikkun, or repair. Oshman describes toxic work environments where she was told her curly hair was "unprofessional" or her nose was "too Jewish." These cultures left no space for her true self. A healthy culture, whether in a family or a company, is one where people actively practice Tzimtzum—listening more than they speak, showing genuine care, and creating a sense of belonging. By making space for others, we begin the work of Tikkun, repairing not only our relationships but the small corner of the world we inhabit.

Narrator: The single most important takeaway from Break Your Chains is that the path to joy and freedom is an inside job. It’s a journey of returning—or Teshuva—to the person you were always meant to be. It requires shifting your focus from solving the problem of your anxiety to embracing the journey of your soul's growth. The wisdom isn't about finding a quick fix, but about taking what one parable calls the "longer, shorter way"—the path that may seem more challenging but ultimately leads to a more profound and lasting transformation.

Michal Oshman’s work challenges us to re-examine our deepest struggles. It asks us to consider that our anxiety, our brokenness, and our fears are not signs of weakness, but invitations to live more purposefully. The ultimate question it leaves us with is this: If you started treating your inner struggles as a call to action from your soul, what would you be called to do?