Mental Illness Is Not a Shanda

As a teenager in a vibrant Jewish community, I showed up to shul, joined in celebrations, and kept up appearances. But beneath the surface, I was unraveling. At 15, I was diagnosed with depression and prescribed Prozac. By 17, I was sitting across from my first psychiatrist, who labeled me bipolar within minutes. It felt like a secret I had to carry alone—despite being surrounded by people who cared.

Sacred Values, Urgent Realities

In Judaism, we hold sacred the values of truth and the infinite worth of every human soul. These are not just lofty ideals; they are urgent calls to action, especially during May, Mental Health Awareness Month. Today, those values demand that we face a painful reality: there is a mental health crisis sweeping through the Western world, and it’s not sparing our Jewish communities. It’s here, among us, hiding in plain sight—just like I once was.

I spent two decades on a rollercoaster of psychiatric treatments, including seven hospitalizations. With God’s help, I was able to function enough to live an observably “normal” life: marriage, four children, and a steady career for part of this time. I moved to Israel where I established a beautiful life.

Over these years, I diligently adhered to medical advice, believing compliance with psychiatrists would bring about my healing. Yet, after my seventh hospitalization in 2022, I came to the chilling realization that conventional treatment was not working for me. I was dubbed “treatment resistant,” but through extensive research I discovered that this was not the full story. That summer of 2022, at 41 years old, a mother of four, an immigrant living in Israel, I knew I had to reclaim my life—not just for myself, but to fulfill my responsibilities to God, family, and community.

Choosing Radical Honesty

As I began my search for truth and my quest for vitality, I also started sharing parts of my mental health story publicly in blogs, podcast episodes, and at conferences. I was warned by well-meaning mentors that by exposing my story I’d also be risking my reputation for the rest of my life. But because of the severity of the struggles I was hearing about, specifically in the Jewish community, I made the conscious and whole-hearted decision to be radically honest with myself and with the world.

I’ve received messages, on a near daily basis, from Jews around the world who relate to my story or who are in need of better help. It has only increased since October 7.

I am constantly taken aback by the gravity of what people share with me: children contemplating and committing suicide, self-harm, severe depression, anxiety, drug addictions – even among highly functioning community leaders – that are hidden for years, and a mountain of side effects from prescription drugs, not to mention the weight of shame that can come along with all of this.

People trust me because I’ve come out with my story, but most of them don’t share their stories publicly or even with their social circles. For years I, too, was afraid to speak out. But as I’ve learned that mental health symptoms reflect unmet needs (physiological, psychological, social, spiritual, or environmental), I’ve realized that this was never about something being “wrong” with me, but rather indicative of the circumstances that I and so many have been subjected to.

The Jewish Community’s Moment of Vulnerability

We are in the midst of a global mental health epidemic, in which suicide is the second leading cause of death among Americans under the age of 44. Even higher than the number of suicides is the number of deaths at the hands of addiction, to both illegal and increasingly to legal, prescription drugs. Most people are, or will be, eligible for a mental health diagnosis, according to new data from the World Health Organization.

The Jewish community is not immune to this. Compounding our current risk factors, we are in a vulnerable moment. Right now, Jews in Israel are collectively traumatized from October 7 and the ongoing war, and Jews around the globe are dealing with the traumas of rising rates of antisemitic violence and discrimination.

A 2022 study of 4,000 people conducted by the Institute of Jewish Policy Research found that 55% of Jewish people under the age of 25 reported negative mental health symptoms, trauma, or distress in the three months prior to being surveyed. Across all ages, 26% reported similar challenges with mental health, highlighting a significant concern, especially among the younger generation of Jews.

In 2024, looking at the mental health impact of October 7th and the ongoing war, a study published in the Lancet found that rates of PTSD, depression, and anxiety among Israelis doubled as a result of the war.

Beyond the statistics, there’s a hidden layer to this crisis within our communities, varying in degrees of secrecy, where far too many people are hiding their mental health challenges out of fear of ostracism.

Understanding the Root Causes

As science is advancing, we’re understanding more and more that mental health challenges can be circumstantial in nature. Exposure to trauma, chronic stress, poor diet, sleep disturbances, and substance use (illegal, legal, and even some prescriptions) can increase risk factors for developing mental health symptoms.

Even for Jews who are physically removed from the war in Israel or antisemitic incidents are still at risk for exposure trauma. One scroll through Instagram at the breakfast table can be enough to set the nervous system off for rest of the day and beyond. The emotional effects of looking at photos and videos can be traumatic in and of themselves, and have even been linked in adolescents to both PTSD and depressive symptoms.

Dr. Victor Frankl, the renowned psychiatrist who survived Auschwitz and wrote Man’s Search for Meaning, wrote: “An abnormal response to an abnormal situation is normal behavior.” During a time that feels abnormal, to put it mildly, we can heed to Dr. Frankl’s words.

Experiencing a full range of human emotions and ‘abnormal’ behaviors through difficult times does not reveal disordered people, but rather disordered circumstances that are creating increased levels of need and care for everyone affected.

From Silence to Support

One way that we can begin coping with all of this as a community is through awareness. By understanding potential risk factors for mental health symptoms, we can contextualize the struggles that so many are facing. Through developing a broader understanding of what’s causing our current crisis, we can ensure that our communities offer support and not shame.

My own experience in sharing my struggles with Jews across several communities has been incredibly positive, far more than I ever anticipated. While I initially feared being met with judgment or ostracism, I ultimately found people extending their compassion as well as relating with my story far more than I anticipated.

Any time I was unwell, my communities both in the United States and in Israel stepped up with meals and visits, without ever inquiring as to the details of my circumstances. In more recent years as I shared those details, people still showed up – with acceptance, and to my surprise, often very much able to relate.

The hardest part of my struggle over the years was keeping it a secret from my friends and community. Now, in being open, I hear from people who are dealing or who have dealt with mental health challenges, proving to me that the numbers we’re seeing are real, and that a community focused solution is in order.

Toward a More Resilient Future

Addressing the mental health of our communities is at the core of ensuring our resilience in generations to come.

Research consistently demonstrates that environments prioritizing psychological safety, where people feel accepted, understood, and included, will foster more positive health outcomes, stronger relationships, healthier community members. When leaders normalize informed conversations about mental health, this empowers people to receive and to offer the support they need without unnecessarily suffering through shame or fear of isolation.

This doesn’t require massive overhauls, and it can be done with the cultural sensitivities of each particular community within the ‘big tent’ of our global Jewish community. It begins with acknowledging that mental health struggles are normal responses to the abnormal situations we’re dealing with. It continues by responding with compassion, and offering others the benefit of the doubt; our core Jewish principle of dan l’chaf zechut, judging someone favorably.

Community leaders can take the lead by:

• Inviting well informed mental health professionals who take a “whole person” approach to speak at synagogues and schools, and teaching pro-active self-care strategies so that we can normalize mental health needs as universal human needs.
• Publicly affirming that taking care of one’s mental health is a form of pikuach nefesh, the overarching Jewish value of preserving life.
• Encouraging flexibility within Jewish law so that those in religious communities can remain included meaningfully while attending to their mental health needs.

To Save a Life Is to Save a World

In having the openness and honesty to address the ongoing global mental health epidemic affecting our communities, we can honor the sacred Jewish principle: “Whoever saves a single life, it is considered as if he saved an entire world.” (Mishnah Sanhedrin, 4:5).

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