A Time to Hoard What Matters

I admit it. My name is Noson, and I’m a hoarder.

Not just stuff, though goodness, yes, I may have bought too many things during this war. Too much toilet paper, too many groceries, too much water, too much “just in case.”

I’ve run in and out of stores, store after store, searching for basics I may have already overbought. I may have hoarded some. I may be the kind of person who even bought a case of water at an inflated price, the way you’re not supposed to, from someone charging too much and encouraging them to keep doing it.

Yes, I might be that kind of person. I admit it. I made mistakes. I am a hoarder.

But it’s worse than that.

I’m hoarding my emotions. I’m hoarding my sympathies. I’m hoarding my feelings.

Yes, I am hoarding them to stay calm and to help my family and myself make it through siren after siren.  To run to the shelter after running to the shelter. To get through times when day merges into night. To survive this PTSD. I am saving my emotions to save myself.

But it’s more than that. I am saving them for others.

I’m saving them for the families who’ve lost their homes. For those who are traumatized from siren after siren. For the petrified little kids running up and down staircases across this country. For the children whose parents have been in reserve duty for what is almost years by now and feels like forever. For the families of the victims of this war. For all the families of all the hostages. For the families of the fallen soldiers. For the wounded and their families.

I am hoarding my feelings for all of them. And for those who are out of work because of this war. For those who’ve lost jobs in this economic downturn that somehow may not even “officially” exist. For those who did not grow up here and are proud to bear with this country and ride out (and even serve) during this war.

I’m hoarding my sympathies for them. My emotions for them.

I am saving my feelings for the brave men and women of the Israel Defense Forces. For the brave pilots and support staff. For the special forces and the first responders. For all the reservists. And for all their families. And again, for the families of ALL the hostages. For the families of the victims. And for the families of the fallen.

I’m saving my emotions. I’m hoarding them.

I must admit:

My name is Noson, and I’m a hoarder.