Brayden recounted attending a February campaign event with Biden in which he told the presidential candidate that he struggles with stuttering. Instinctively, Biden invited the boy backstage to share his own history of stuttering and techniques he uses to this day to push back on it. As Brayden gave his speech, he often paused, visibly fighting to produce several words. But he never lost his cool.

Brayden’s segment was widely circulated and rightfully praised. Though, here is what you probably didn’t consider: This was a pre-recorded speech. Brayden could have done as many takes as he wanted until he got one with lighter stutters or used clever camera cuts to hide the toughest aspects of his stutter. He did none of that. He put his genuine self out there for literally millions of people to watch. He did so proudly, smiling throughout, never diverting his eyes from the camera. There was no other possible way to conclude: Brayden Harrington is not ashamed of his stutter.

Understanding Stuttering

The night following his DNC speech, Brayden spoke to NBC’s Lester Holt and in part explained what having a stutter actually feels like. One thing people do not know about stuttering is that it is not just difficult to pronounce sounds. Per Brayden, “Sometimes it’s hard to breathe. My lungs tighten. Sometimes I can’t like get that extra breath. And it is hard to talk. That’s why I’ve had a therapist for a few years, to try to teach me some words to get past those hard times when I can’t breathe. And that’s just one little thing that some people don’t really know.”

Stronger than a Stutter

Shortly after Brayden’s first encounter with Biden made minor news, Brayden’s father, Owen Harrington, told CNN that Biden “explained that (the stutter) doesn’t define him, he’s stronger, that he’s a good person. It was really overwhelming for Brayden. He started breaking down a little bit.”

There is no debating that what Brayden did at the DNC was a clinic in guts and courage. But it was also so much more. Harrington told Holt that his son was “overwhelmed” before recording his speech but “decided he wanted to push through and continue with this because he wanted to be the voice for those other children that didn’t get the opportunity that Brayden had.” 

Just as Biden had told him, Brayden told everyone watching with a stutter that it does not define them. They are far stronger than any stutter could ever be. After all, as Brayden said in his speech, “Someone like me became vice president.”

Courage Beats Stigma

Heroic acts like this are exactly how courage wins and stigma loses. In the hours following the speech, social media platforms were flooded with posts and messages in awe of the kid with some sharing their own stuttering challenges. When someone speaks up about a struggle they have, particularly one stigmatized by society as a weakness, it has a cascading effect. Others in similar situations feel better, that they are not alone, and empowered to speak up. As Brayden shared with the Washington Post a few hours after his speech aired, “I feel very energetic right now. I’m very happy that I got to give the speech. I have trouble talking and that just makes me feel way more happy to be able to talk to the people who have a stutter.”

Whether you struggle with a stutter, a mental illness, or any wrongly stigmatized ailment, consider speaking up. You would be making the difference the world needs. In that vein, Brayden told NBC that “I want to do the same thing that Joe Biden did to me to younger kids who take having trouble talking as the worst thing in their life, but it’s actually a gift.” Suffice to say he is well on his way.

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Panic attacks, manic episodes, and confusion became part of my life. Psychiatrists, medication, and therapy are words that joined my vocabulary. I spent many hours reading up about you, trying to control you, understand you, conquer you.

Worst of all, I live with the stigma of you. The fear of others’ reactions–fear of their ignorance and small-mindedness. I was rejected because of you. I was judged and deemed unworthy by people who refused to see past you–bipolar–and into the real me, the me that is still the same as it always was, full of life and endless potential.

Yet, I will not let you define me. I will not let you determine my state of mind, my destiny. I will accept you merely as part of my genetic makeup, a challenge Hashem gave me. Like any other challenge, you, bipolar disorder, are something that I can–and I will–rise above. As difficult as you are to deal with, you are something that can make me into a better person–you are a tool that I can use to flourish, explore, and change lives.

I used to think that you controlled me, but I’ve learned that, in fact, I control you. Because of you, I chose a career in counseling. Because of you, I dreamt new dreams: dreams of breaking stigmas and dreams of creating a better future for those affected by you.

I still live with a fear of you–the fear of the stigma attached to you–especially when entering shidduchim, where your name and diagnosis will be seen as a fault, as something “wrong” with me.

Although you will be with me my whole life, and people might judge or dismiss me because of you, I do not dismiss myself because of you. Rather, I know that you have challenged me, molded me, and created me into the person I am today.

So, bipolar, I would like to thank you for that.

— Chana

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I look like you

I talk like you

But am I like you?

You see, I am an Orthodox Jewish girl; I cover my knees, cover my elbows, go to Torah events. And I am a Sexaholic.

A few years ago, I said those words for the first time in front of ten men. No women. They looked at me and they understood me, and I wasn’t as afraid as I had been. 

Sexaholism

I spent years reliant on pornography and masturbation, wanting men and women more than I thought any woman should. I was always thinking about sex. I didn’t believe I was normal. I knew that if I got married, I would have an affair because I never said no.

Living in Washington Heights (upper Manhattan), I couldn’t have been more like and dislike everyone around me. I felt like a TV show character. When there was no one else around, I melted into the background, disappeared. I weaved in and out of reality. And my eyes, those sad sad eyes. So empty, so hopeless.

I would stay up late into the night watching perverted, illegal, and imaginary things, losing myself more and more into the abyss. In the beginning – when I was in high school – I thought I had found magic, a solution. When I did or watched a particular thing, I didn’t feel sad, alone, or different. But as time passed by, the fissure in my personality was destroying me. I felt just like a typical person in the morning but somebody else in the evenings. 

Searching for Health

I would do everything and anything to stop except tell someone – God forbid anyone should know! I tried stopping a million times, but I couldn’t stay stopped. In fact, every time I stopped, I came back to do and see worse things than I had done before I left. I started to accept that this was my fate.

Divine providence, I believe, led me to my answers. I happened to read a book about a man who sounded just like me! He was a slave to lust, powerless over it. One hit was too much and 1,000 hits were never enough. He said Sexaholics Anonymous (SA) helped him get sober, helped him be OK. 

Facing my Addiction

I was desperate. Even though I knew anyone could be in those SA rooms, death seemed liked a better option than life at this point. What did I have to lose?

In the end, I found everything. I found sobriety; I found friendship; I found sanity. I found life!!

As Shavuot comes around the corner and we choose to accept the Torah, I am so grateful that I can now say I choose life. I choose to stay present and a part of the world that is this imperfect, painful, sad, and happy world. 

Still, I sometimes wonder, am I like you?

But I give up on caring about the question

Because I just need to be like me 😉

Message from The Author: Please note that I am not a representative of Sexaholic Anonymous; everything I have shared is based on my personal experiences only. If you have any comments or questions, please feel free to email me at my recovery email hopeandemunah@gmail.com.

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“People will judge me and look at me differently.”

“One of the reasons I self-harmed was to have scars.”

“I don’t want to be embarrassed by my scars.”

“What if I get uncomfortable stares and questions?”

“I don’t want to cover my arms forever.”

“I want to be proud of how far I’ve come.”

“Why don’t I wait for them to fade more?”

“Will they ever be faded the ‘perfect’ amount?”

These are just some of the thoughts bouncing back and forth inside my head when I’m choosing what to wear. I usually end up wearing long sleeves, even in summer, because I’d rather avoid the knowing stares and uncomfortable remarks from family, friends, and strangers alike. I’d rather hide inside of my long-sleeved shirt and get overheated in summer than show my scars and embrace myself how I am.

Self-Harm Stigma

It is important before I continue to point out that I am only talking about scars. Fresh open wounds, in my opinion, should always be covered both for sanitary reasons and also to not trigger anyone. But should I force myself into further isolation by covering them for eternity? Self-harm, in my opinion, is majorly stigmatized, way more-so than depression, which it could be a symptom of. According to the American Psychological Association (as of 2015), 15% of college students have engaged in non-suicidal self-injury at least once, as well as 17% of adolescents. This is a huge portion of society, yet it is still extremely stigmatized.

A Personal Story Demonstrating The Stigma

About a year ago, I went to the ER for a physical issue. After I got medically cleared in the ER, they told me I could not leave and that I was going to be escorted downstairs. After enough inquiring about where I was headed, the doctors hesitantly told me that I was being taken to the psychiatric ER. They told me that they wouldn’t release me from the hospital unless I went. I was confused—I hadn’t said anything about my mental state or indicated in any way that I was a danger to myself or others (which I wasn’t).

The psychiatrist who spoke with me saw no problem and was also confused as to why they had forced me to come. I later found out that the doctor that was treating me in the medical ER saw some of my old, healed self-harm scars. She got scared and sent me to the psychiatric ER because she didn’t know what to say or do. This was a medical professional who is supposed to be educated on this matter—if she wasn’t, then who can blame the general public for their response?

Because of this stigma, I am constantly aware of my sleeve length when in public. The decision goes through my mind every time I get dressed.

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While this problematic association applies to any version of mental illness, the issue is compounded by the fact that the distinction between any mental illness (AMI) and severe mental illness (SMI) is disregarded in this context. 

Per the National Institute of Mental Health, AMI is defined as a mental, behavioral, or emotional disorder. AMI can vary in impact, ranging from no impairment to mild, moderate, or severe impairment. SMI is defined as a mental, behavioral, or emotional disorder resulting in serious functional impairment, which substantially interferes with or limits one or more major life activities. Examples of this are schizophrenia and extreme bipolar disorder. Simply put, it is misleading and irresponsible to lump all degrees of mental illnesses together. 

Allow Me To Illustrate

Following this past August’s mass shootings in Dayton and El Paso, the President of the United States held a press briefing in which he classified “mentally ill monsters” as a source of violence. As part three of a four point proposal to curb gun violence, he declared, “We must reform our mental health laws to better identify mentally disturbed individuals who may commit acts of violence and make sure those people not only get treatment but, when necessary, involuntary confinement. Mental illness and hatred pull the trigger, not the gun.”

More recently, the prominent Jewish newspaper The Forward took their turn at the association. In trying to delve into the rise of anti-Semitic attacks in New York City, they published an article titled: “Are high rates of mental illness connected to a spike in anti-Semitic violence?”

If only this sentiment was unique or new. The President and The Forward were in many ways regurgitating age-old callous and unwarranted fear towards those with mental illness. 

The Deadliest Attack Provided The Most Egregious Characterizations 

As a case study, I examined the Las Vegas mass shooting of October 2017 – the deadliest in modern U.S. history.

In the wake of the shooting, media outlets hurriedly tried to fill in the motive. Even when the identity of the perpetrator was barely known, prominent news agencies began floating mental health speculation. ABC’s special coverage cited the possibility of a “mental health issue.” Similar theories were spitballed by CBS News and MSNBC’s popular program “Morning Joe”.

In the days that followed, prominent news outlets were whipped into a frenzy about the mental illness narrative. These theories were often based on unnamed sources or raw speculation. CNN went as far as to publish a full-blown opinion piece “The Mystery of The Shooter’s Brain”. (I have edited out the shooter’s name from the title.) The article addressed burning questions like “Could he have been a psychopath?” In total, it included some variation of the words “psycho” or “mental” fifteen times. Fox Business, for their part, ran an entire segment devoted to rumors that the shooter was prescribed anxiety medication several months before the attack. They assessed “how insane” this person must have been and analyzed what type of “psychiatric problems” he clearly had. 

Putting Fact To Fiction

The CEO of the American Psychological Association, Arthur C. Evans, puts it best: “Blaming mental illness for the gun violence in our country is simplistic and inaccurate and goes against the scientific evidence currently available… As we psychological scientists have said repeatedly, the overwhelming majority of people with mental illness are not violent. And there is no single personality profile that can reliably predict who will resort to gun violence.”

Here are the facts Evans is likely referring to. While 1 in 5 U.S. adults experience AMI in a given year, only 1 in 25 experience SMI. In fact, people who have SMI are far more likely to be a victim of violent crime than the perpetrator. One study found that those with SMI are 11 times more likely to be victims of violent crime than the general population.

Sticking with facts, there is indeed evidence suggesting those with SMI are at a higher risk of committing violent acts than the general population. However, in order to effectively address this possibility, the solution would be to improve access to treatment, not creating an atmosphere that stigmatizes and thus discourages people from seeking treatment. After all, a common reason for developing SMI is allowing mild or moderate mental illness to go untreated or unidentified. Creating new gun laws based on mental illness would have the effect of further stigmatization and increasing the chances of people being unwilling to seek treatment when they need it. 

A starting place may be updating the highly offensive wording currently in the National Instant Criminal Background Check System reporting law, which makes it unlawful for those “adjudicated as being mentally defective” to possess a firearm.

OK, But Was The Vegas Shooting Narrative Correct?

After about two years of intensive investigation, the FBI concluded there was “no single or clear motivating factor” behind the shooting. I could not blame the typical observer for having the impression to this day that mental illness was determined to be the motive. Unfortunately, the media and politicians were far more interested in the gunman’s brother’s speculation that he may have been suffering from paranoid delusions than they were in the fact that the shooter had a gambling problem and was on a losing streak or that his father was a bank robber – once on the FBI’s most wanted list. (The brother had previously been arrested on unrelated but serious charges.) Simply put, the situation was far too murky to rationally assign a motive.

The Only Solution is Together

The characterization many push that mental illness leads to violence is not just often inaccurate, it is morally disgusting and tangibly harmful. It encourages a belief that there is somehow something wrong with having a mental illness and thus discourages treatment. Who wants to be that person who is known as a threat? Furthermore, someone who has a mental illness but has not yet realized that they do will be confused by the fact that they are not a violent person but are told mental illness means violence.

The next time you hear a newscaster float the mental illness motive (not even bothering to at least differentiate between AMI and SMI), roll your eyes along with me. Do not stand for our politicians demonizing and scapegoating those with mental illness. We all deserve a society where each person is treated with fairness and respect.

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First, for context, occupational therapy became prevalent in psychiatric hospitals in the early 1900s, as soldiers returning from World War I with depression and post-traumatic stress disorder were provided purposeful and meaningful activity via crafts and manual tasks. Though most OTs have moved away from this setting and toward more physical disabilities, a small population of OTs still work in psychiatric settings.

OTs evaluate patients in the following main performance areas: activities of daily living, cognition, upper-extremity strength and range of motion, and psychosocial factors, which include stress, coping skills, frustration tolerance, assertiveness and impulse control. Some problem areas OTs can address include depression, anxiety, and cognitive impairments. They run daily group therapy to include topics such as anxiety and depression management, coping skills, assertiveness, anger management, how to speak about mental illness, and positive thinking.

The Deafening Silence in the Religious Community

During the five years I worked in an acute psychiatric unit, I saw three religious Jews, and I still think about them.

I evaluated a 20-year-old religious male for occupational therapy. He was diagnosed with major depression. When I asked him who his support system was, he answered, “No one.” I then inquired further about his family or friends, but the reply was in the negative. After asking him if he could speak with his rabbi, as many rabbis are trained in psychology, he said, “I can’t speak to anyone because if I do, then I will never get a shidduch (suggested person to date).”

The second encounter I had in the acute psychiatric unit with a religious Jew was also with a young male in his twenties. At that time, the estimated length of stay in an acute psychiatric unit was one to three days. This male was admitted at some point over the weekend. I never treated him. However, when I walked into the unit on Monday and he recognized me as a religious Jew, he came over to me and sternly said, “If you ever see me in the community, pretend you never saw me.”

The last religious Jewish patient I treated in the psychiatric unit was a young mother with many children, including a baby. She was diagnosed with postpartum depression, which consisted of symptoms such as extreme melancholy, anhedonia (the loss of pleasure in once enjoyable activities) and feelings of guilt over not being able to care for her children.

Cover-Up Culture

All too frequently, I learn of Jewish men and women in both my community of Baltimore as well as other Jewish communities who have ended their lives by suicide. Some leave messages on their Facebook pages, including cries for help and near-misses. Some of their deaths are associated with addiction. Some are due to undertreated mental illness such as depression, bipolar disorder, or even anxiety (thoughts of death and suicide are also common symptoms of anxiety). And some are covered up to protect the family from the scrutiny and stigma the community would show them. After suicides, there is no public word about the underlying mental illness. And history repeats itself.

Silence cannot change the facts – mental illness can affect anyone of any race, culture, ethnicity, or age – including the Jewish community.

Speak Up Now

For a long time, my community had only addressed the concepts of grief and loss, as well as addiction. But this was a Band-Aid, a temporary fix or comfort. The real issues of “why” had not been talked about at all until recently (in part, due to initiatives I spearheaded). Fortunately, my community has begun to have that conversation about mental health topics in a general way. However, we still have room for critical growth in our understanding – such as discussing the underlying triggers of depression or suicide.

Changing our approach to mental health can only come once every community recognizes and speaks openly about mental health issues, supports one another, and encourages others to seek help. The truth needs to be known that once a mental illness is managed, people can live productive lives in their life roles. When mental illness is not treated or when people—especially young people like those I previously described encountering—are stigmatized and made to feel shame, their lives become bleak and unstable.

Mental Illness Fact Check

For someone who has never suffered from a mental illness, it is hard to relate to someone who has. One may even fear it is contagious or believe that all people with mental illness are violent or, at the very least, unstable. According to NAMI, the National Alliance of Mental Illness, one in every five people will experience mental illness at some time in their lives, whether it be mild or severe.

Just like with a physical illness that needs to be managed, such as diabetes or high cholesterol, people with mental illness can live the same productive lives as people without mental illness. Treatments can take the form of regular visits to a therapist, psychiatrist or psychiatric nurse practitioner, medications, and through the implementation of coping skills – such as exercise, prayer, having a support system, and keeping occupied via meaningful activity.

It is about time we get this message out to our community. End the secrecy. Start the healing. Speak up before it’s too late.

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The Toby Damon Story

Toby Damon, a main character on the show, is a prime example of This is Us sending the wrong message regarding mental health realities. At the onset of the show, we are introduced to Toby, an upbeat and jolly fellow who becomes Kate Pearson’s love interest. At the conclusion of the second season, however, we see an entirely different Toby – one who is crippled by depression and sadness. With the start of the following season, the audience learns of Toby’s childhood struggles with depression. In a shocking early-season scene, Toby flushes his antidepressant medication down the toilet in an attempt to help Kate become pregnant.

Failing The Audience

There are several concerning flaws with this portrayal of Toby and his association with depression. First, with the stark difference in character that is seen between Toby on his meds and Toby off of his meds, the viewer is led to think that Toby is only cheerful and engaging because of his anti-depressant medications. As soon as he throws the meds away, he simultaneously throws away his jolly disposition. This supports the stigmatic and false understanding of anti-depressants that they are an agent which changes the fundamental nature of who a person is. Rather, they simply assist in making sure the person’s brain chemicals are properly balanced. 

Second, this storyline may improperly leave viewers with the impression that anti-depressants lead to infertility. There is, in fact, no concrete scientific evidence that they actually reduce sperm count as the show writers had Toby presume.

Third, the reason why Toby stops taking his medications is not supported by a medical provider. Without consulting his doctor, let alone anyone knowledgeable in the medical field, Toby decides to take matters into his own hands and disposes of his anti-depressants. 

A fourth major issue with Toby’s storyline is the portrayal of his behavior after discontinuing his antidepressant medication. Toby’s mood swings and erratic behavior become concerning to Kate to the point that he admits having stopped his medication. Particularly noticeable is Toby acting inappropriately by breaking down crying when he learns that Kate is finally pregnant. The main problem here is that a viewer who may not know much about depression will now have a false view of the condition and the behavioral effects of its medications. Major mood swings are not in reality typical of depression but might manifest with bipolar disorder if untreated.

Differentiating Fact From Hollywood

My main goal in writing this piece is not to simply bash this popular show, as I myself watch it and plan to continue to watch it in the future. I do believe, however, it is important as intellectual and reflective individuals to not blindly accept “lessons” conveyed to us by popular TV shows. Rather, we should be able to question those underlying messages and know how to recognize a true portrayal of mental health challenges vs. a Hollywood portrayal.

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There is a Russian saleswoman–middle-aged, blonde, and blue-eyed–at the pharmacy where I pick up my medication each month. Psychiatric medication. It’s a difficult trip for me, even after all this time. I force the thoughts down as I enter the pharmacy and pretend I am just picking up another bottle of moisturizer or shampoo as I sign electronically and stuff the bag deep into my pocketbook. I try to block out what this errand really means to me and complete it as swiftly as possible.

A Medicated Therapist?!

Recently, in her thick accent, the saleswoman asked about my place of work. When I confessed to still be searching but contemplating going to school, she was adamant that it was a requirement for my future.

“My parents want me to go,” I told her. And then I blurted it out–something that I haven’t told many others: “I want to be a therapist.”

Her eyes turned serious. “You will be a good one, you must do it. I see it in you, in your eyes. You listen to people. You are nice. You care.”

I could have cried right there in the aisles filled with fruity shampoos and Tylenol as I stood beside her counter, as if she was the therapist and I the client. Her words reached into me, breaking me in a place that I wouldn’t show, and I felt the confusing mix of pain, wonder, and relief of the support and belief in me from a stranger who didn’t know my life, yet saw in me the potential to be for others what I so desperately needed.

But a therapist on medication? Struggling as I am to survive my present and longstanding pain, the thought of being strong for others in a clinical setting seems too ironic.

“These therapists are all crazy,” my relative laughed. “They probably all have issues themselves and that’s how they know these things!”

I gritted my teeth. And that’s how they know how to help people.

Confronting The Medication Stigma

Then again, maybe it’s not so strange. If I’ve “been there, done that,” though no longer struggling as much as I had been not too long ago, I can understand my clients in a way that no college professor can bring across to one personally uninitiated with the struggle. Because if you’ve been there, done it, and known it, then you will know your clients too. And if you haven’t, thank G-d, it’s a different struggle to mix compassion with learned knowledge and understand a patient’s life from the perspective of being in their head, as opposed to simply trying to identify with the pain.

I have worked hard to accept that I will need to be taking this medication for life and that I must be open to trying other medications to aid me as well. It’s a work in progress. It is so hard. I don’t want to be dependent on medication. Am I not “me” if my mind is controlled by medication? What about a shidduch? What about having kids on medication? My medication is forbidden during pregnancy. Can I even be a mother or wife as I am without it?

Understanding The “Me” in Medication

I have learned that I am as much “me” as I ever was, only better. The real me is able to be viewed upon taking medication, simply (or more accurately, not so simply) taking the piece which Hashem deliberately left out of my system for reasons unknown, yet created for me to insert into that void to complete myself and function as He intended me to.

Think of it as if you are short on a physical component like a diabetic is with insulin and supplements. There is no judgment warranted–did you ask for this? With mental illness, there is usually some chemical or function that is simply underserved in your brain. There is no moral flaw in you for being the way you are. You did not do something wrong. For some reason, Hashem created you incomplete in that part of yourself–and has also created a way for you to receive it. Once it is put in place (which is much easier said than done), you will feel more whole and complete, no matter how long it takes. This goes beyond psychotropic drugs, and includes therapy as well, whether it be talk therapy, art therapy, music therapy, or whatever fits your niche.

A religious medical doctor I was seeing once told me to think of psychiatric medication like “a gift that Hashem has left on your pillow especially for you” when I was fighting against beginning medication again. He explained to me that Hashem has created the exact medications I need to help me, has sent me the solution and that there should be no shame in it. It took years, but I have finally come to a certain point of acceptance.

The True Role of Medication

It has been explained to me repeatedly that medication is just something to jumpstart recovery, allowing one to make headway in therapy and learn to cope. Even once it is working, it is the smallest factor in your healing; the real work takes place in therapy and life beyond. But you are a person beyond therapy and medication. You are not only a patient, but you are you. Painful as it may be.

Going on medication is not a simple decision. It hurts to be criticized or condemned by others. Do you think we are unaware or not terrified of the side effects? Read down the list of side effects on one medication and you’ll begin to realize what kind of a choice we have to make. The fears, the doubts, the hesitations. The pros and cons.

It’s nerve-wracking. It’s not a decision taken lightly. And sometimes it’s just knowing, or being told by professionals and those who care, that you must at least try, because you may have a life, but that doesn’t mean that you’re living.

Do not mischaracterize medication as a “cop-out” or “way out.” It’s about taking more responsibility than you had before the medication because medication alone may not do that much. It’s a team effort: therapist and patient, skills training and practice–it doesn’t stop.

Enabling Me To Be Me

I have difficulty accepting that I will be on medication for life. I try to accept it, to not think of it, and to focus on the work that I’m doing in and out of therapy. Even if the medication will be terminated one day, it will not be able to take away what I have achieved while on it and it certainly does not mean that I cannot be a therapist or any sort of profession for that matter.

I want to be me–

The best me that I can be.

And when you meet me, you will see me–with all of the effort and persistence that goes into making me who I am, not the substances that I swallow that enable me to be me.

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Stigma is not only found among the family and friends of one suffering from mental illness. It also lies in the head of those suffering. They may see themselves as a certain type, or doubt what they can accomplish in the future. It’s just as important to educate those with mental illness, as it is to educate the community. If the one suffering cannot fight for himself, how else will they heal? How else will they overcome their mental illness and lead a successful life?

A major part of depression is loneliness. It’s challenging to listen to the advice of others when they have no sense of how you feel. My goal with this letter is to actually go into the minds of those suffering, from the perspective of someone who has been there before, to maximize impact. Once they feel that they can relate to the speaker, they will be able to hear them out.

Although each person’s experience is unique, and not everyone will recover as successfully, I still believe each person deserves a chance to have hope. Sharing this letter which I wrote to myself with those suffering from depression can infuse them with that bit of hope, and maybe even prevent them from cutting their life short.

March 24, 2035

Dear 18-year-old suicidal self

Life sucks, doesn’t it? You have no energy to move, no patience to deal with the world, people, or anything for that matter. But I’m here to help you since no one else is. I’ve been in your shoes some years ago.

I know that your depression affects you at your very core, and makes it hard for you to function. I imagine you sitting in bed all day, waiting for nightfall, waiting for the day to end. Finally, when bedtime does arrive, you lie back in your bed again but sleep eludes you. You silently stare at the blank dark walls as worrisome thoughts bombard you from every direction. Those voices are so loud, too loud to let you get some rest. At some point, the morning light shines through the windows, but you retreat deeper into your blankets. There is absolutely no way you can handle another day. It feels impossible to get out of bed, get dressed, and put yourself together. Why should you get up? You have no reason to. It will just be another day of feeling like a useless good-for-nothing, dreaming of the end. Sometimes you just want to be normal and go out with friends and see the daylight, but the thoughts overwhelm you, so you run right back under your covers to hide from the big bad scary world.

When you do manage to get out, you feel the energy draining as you force a smile on your face – because that’s what’s expected of you. No one is allowed to know the true pain inside your heart. Because somehow, everyone else is laughing and socializing and accomplishing things every day. Somehow, everyone else has friends. Somehow they all seem so happy. But you feel all alone. No one cares about you. You secretly hate yourself and want to die. You dream of suicide – wishing all this pain could just end. You won’t have to face anyone after that, won’t have to fake anything or deal with this daily torture. Am I right? Sometimes you wonder if anyone will notice if you are gone. You wonder who even cares about you.

But I have a secret to share with you. Right now you are 35. And you stuck it out. You don’t know this, because you are only 18, want to die, and know that no one will ever love you. You’re in despair and believe you’ll never get married or have the capability to raise kids in a warm and loving home. But you’re married! Your spouse supports you. You have someone to laugh with. Someone to cry with. Someone to buy you gifts and listen to your opinions and complaints. You have three adorable kids who bring you so much joy.

Every morning when you wake up, you appreciate that you were fortunate to make it this far. And sometimes, as you fall into bed after an exhausting day, a few tears roll onto your face, shuddering to think what a life you would have lost had you given in and killed yourself as a teenager. Kudos to you for plowing through the battle, for using those last bits of energy just to keep yourself alive.

This life of joy seems impossible to you in your current state of mind. It’s “A life that belongs to someone else, but not to me.” But I’ll walk you through the process. I’ll tell you how you got here. Because it wasn’t anyone else who made you survive. You worked hard and you did it.

After your suicidal thoughts, depression, and self-criticism started taking over your life, you realized it was enough. For weeks, you experienced inner turmoil, debating what to do. Deep down you really wanted to get help, but it was too overwhelming to even think about. One day you took your phone and decided to dial an organization you heard about, just one number at a time. Once you pressed talk, and realized what you did, you prayed no one would pick up. Within seconds you were talking with a sweet lady. All you had to do was answer a few short questions and it was over. In actuality, it was the beginning. Your healing process had begun. Because you were courageous and made one phone call.

They matched you up with a therapist who supported you and spent hours helping you find ways to cope and heal. And boy did you work hard. Life still sucked and there were days you still wanted to die, but after months of therapy, they became less and less. As you slowly broke out of your shell, built your self-worth, and found productive activities to fill your days, life became bearable. You even met a few other people suffering from depression, connected with them, and made some new friends.

You had wished someone could cast a magic spell that would heal you, but looking back, you did the magic yourself. You fought to heal. And you healed. Can you believe it? I know you don’t, but the day will come. Do me a small favor. When you’re having the worst day ever, tell yourself, “Just one more day.” Because that’s how you got to where you are today. You’ve healed one day at a time until you recovered.

Right now, just focus on staying alive. Even if you don’t accomplish anything today, at least you have a chance tomorrow. Most importantly, just make one phone call, dial the numbers one a time, so that someone can help you. You’re not expected to climb that mountain alone.

I love you and I think of you all the time. I know that you can do it, even though it feels impossible. You will love yourself one day. Life will be beautiful one day.

Sincerely,

Your 35-year-old self.

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There are so many things I wish I could tell you, but I don’t out of fear that you won’t understand. Yet, here goes. I’m a teen with mental illness. Let me set one thing straight right here – it’s an illness. NOT a weakness. It is not something I have control over. Not something I chose. Not something I’m ashamed of – at least, not anymore.

Imagine someone with a physical illness, like cancer. Would you ever approach them and say, “Get over it”? Of course not; that would be cruel and just plain insanity.

Why should I be any different?

You may answer that unlike with physical illnesses, you can’t understand my pain. It’s foreign to you. Why should I get so upset about the lack of sympathy since people can’t understand my pain? Well, you can’t really understand the cancer patient’s pain either, unless you have the illness yourself. Yet you still sympathize. Why?

The reason is a simple one: In your mind, the cancer is not their fault. The patient has no control over the tumor in their body. Why should you blame them? Why should you offer them advice? Mental illness, conversely, is considered a class of weakness which is the fault of the person who has it.

Allow me to offer you a dose of reality. It took me superhuman strength just to scrape together the will to get up out of bed this morning. I’m working harder than you can imagine. Medication? Therapy? It’s what’s helping me get up. Please don’t scorn me for it (whether with your judging words or doubting mindset). Don’t make me feel bad for helping myself get healthier.

Indeed, many people have some inexplicable aversion towards antidepressants and the like. You refer to it as “drugs”. Why? Tylenol is a drug. Advil is a drug. But you don’t scoff at a child for taking cough medicine. While she takes the pills to help her correct an imbalance in her throat pain, I take pills to help straighten out an imbalance with my mood. It’s actually a big thing to do, a brave thing, to take medication despite the faulty societal views. I do it because of my strength, not some murky weakness.

I did not choose to have mental illness, just like a cancer patient did not call up his doctor and ask for a tumor. But I have it, and I’m going to make the best of it. I will not ignore it. I will use it to help myself become a more sensitive, caring, thoughtful person.

Please, I know you don’t necessarily understand, but try. Remember – it’s just an illness, albeit one in my mind. An illness. Not a weakness.

Sincerely,

Tammi

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Piercing The Stigma

I knew I needed help for quite some time. I felt that I couldn’t handle the darkness I was going through, the hatred that I had of being in my own body, and the hopelessness that the situation will never change. It was only a matter of time before I would do something that would break everyone around me. However, I couldn’t imagine how I could receive the help if the hospital experience would be so traumatic in itself.

Finally, I decided that I needed to put my fears to the side and ask to go to the hospital, because in my head, deep down, I knew I wasn’t safe. I am happy to say now that my fears were dead wrong. I probably made the best decision in my entire lifespan of 19 years when I called up my mom and said the words, “I need help. I think I need to go to the hospital.” The only parts that I regret are not asking for help sooner and being scared of the “threat” of hospitalization.

Ask For Help

Saying the words “I need help” takes so much vulnerability from a person. You don’t know what will happen; you are putting yourself on the line. But sometimes it is so important to take that step and ask for the help you deserve. I did it. I asked for help and went to a place where I could feel safe and take care of myself.

At the hospital, the daily schedule was mundane, filled with relaxation and groups – far from the horror stories society told me to believe. I simply got a break. The most helpful part for me was being with people who understood, who have been in my place before and knew what I was going through. My doctors adjusted my medication and I focused on getting outpatient care for when I came out. It was the exact thing that I needed and may very well have saved my life.

I’m not advocating that everyone who has gone through mental illness will or should go through the hospital. But sometimes there is a need for it, and when it is needed, it may be the very thing to save the person’s life.

Searching For Empathy

We all know the statistic: Approximately 1 in 5 people in the U.S. have mental illness right now. 1 in 5. That is a huge percentage. However, it also means that 4 out of 5 don’t. As much as our family and friends may want to help and understand, it is impossible to understand this type of pain if you haven’t gone through it yourself. Empathy can only truly happen when one can put themselves in another person’s situation.

This lack of true empathy creates a barrier of loneliness. It is so important to know you aren’t alone and are in no way “messed up” or “crazy” for feeling the way you do. The problem is that the stigma is so strong society silently shames the ones that need to ask for help in order to heal. People simply cannot stand up to the false narrative and reveal that they may need to go to the psychiatric ward.

I am one of 20%. I know how alone mental illness can feel, like no one can possibly understand or even want to understand. Despite this, it’s so important to be open and share when you aren’t okay, so you can get the support and connection you deserve. It is okay not to be okay. I am not going to be done yelling until the world is okay with that.

I’ve Had Enough With The Fear

I am tired of having to hide where I go when I disappear off the planet for a while because I am in a psych ward.

I am tired of being scared to walk outside now that I’m back from the hospital because if someone bumps into me who noticed I was gone, they would question me and force me to lie.

I am tired of worrying about getting married.

I am tired of the feeling that I am alienated from the rest of the world because I have been in a psych ward.

And I am tired of living in a society that isolates those with their stigma-based shame, even though being a patient in the hospital for mental illness should be just as normal as receiving treatment for diabetes or cancer.

You Matter

Due to the way mental illness is portrayed, people are not able to get the part of treatment that is so essential: connection. I am not going to be done yelling until everyone knows that they matter and are worthy of help and love.

Always remember that you matter. There are people that can and want to understand you. Please don’t stop searching until you find them.

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How We Treat One Another

It is customary during the omer period to study Pirkei Avos (Ethics of the Fathers), a tractate of the Mishna which teaches us the Torah’s views on ethics and interpersonal relationships.  In the omer period, we mourn the death of 24,000 students of Rabbi Akiva. These students died in a plague because they did not treat one another properly. During Mental Health Month, we mourn the loss of people with mental illness whose condition was worsened by stigma and social distancing and who died by suicide.

For people with mental illness, stigma is one of the biggest barriers to treatment and recovery.  Stigma is the disrespectful, unfair, or discriminatory patterns in how we think, feel, talk and behave towards individuals experiencing a mental illness. Stigmatizing and socially distancing ourselves from people with mental illness makes it more difficult for them to admit that they need help. It causes them to feel shame, to be afraid to get health care and to isolate themselves. All of this increases their risk of suicide. In 2016, the nation’s suicide rate was the highest it has been in 30 years. (National Alliance for Mental Health – NAMI) According to the National Center for Health Statistics, 42,773 people died from suicide in 2014, compared with 29,199 in 1999.

Why Should We Do Our Part?

Why should we make an effort to learn more about mental illness and do our part to reduce stigma? Because one in five people will experience a mental illness in their lifetime. The other four will know someone – a family member, friend, or co-worker who has been affected. This means that every one of us is affected by mental illness in some way, whether by living with an illness ourselves or grappling with its consequences in a friend or loved one.

Bill Clinton said, “Mental illness is nothing to be ashamed of, but stigma and bias shame us all.” We all need to examine our beliefs about mental illness. Are our words and actions perpetuating stigma against people with mental illness or are we helping to eliminate it? Some of the things we can do to reduce stigma are: get informed and learn the facts about mental illness, chose our words carefully, focus on the positive, be supportive and accepting. Understand that brain diseases are chronic medical illnesses that respond to safe and effective medications and scientifically demonstrated therapies. If you know someone who appears to be suffering, be compassionate and help them find treatment options.

We Can Learn From Pirkei Avos

Pirkei Avos teaches us so beautifully how to improve our lives. By following the ways set out in Pirkei Avos, we will overcome the stigma attached to mental illness and this will benefit us all. Some of these ways from Pirkei Avos are: love people, do acts of loving-kindness, greet everyone with a smile, be a good friend, do not separate yourself from the community, judge everyone favorably, do not judge another until you have reached their place, do for others as you would like them to do for you. Sounds like a prescription for unity. Just as unity delivered us from Egypt to Mount Sinai to receive the Torah, unity is critical to overcome stigma and get us all to a healthier place.

A national public education program combating stigma is Mental Health First Aid. This is an eight-hour live training course which introduces participants to risk factors and warning signs of mental health problems, builds an understanding of their impact and overviews common treatments. To find a Mental Health First Aid training near you go to mentalhealthfirstaid.org. The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline provides free and confidential emotional support to people in suicidal crisis or emotional distress 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. The number is 1-800-273-8255.

Becoming informed about the facts of mental illness is an important and loving thing that each of us can do for one another.

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Where You’re Not Needed

The above organizations – the causes – are important and absolutely necessary. However, they don’t need you as a volunteer. This is the case for two reasons:

Firstly, they have an enormous supply of willing volunteers. As talented as you may be at bringing someone closer to Judaism, if you stopped being an NCSY Advisor today, someone would take your place tomorrow. Don’t be mistaken, NCSY volunteers do important work and those who are in it for the right reasons should be unreservedly applauded. But when compared to the fight for mental illness equality, NCSY has an embarrassment of riches of volunteers. Put it this way: If given the choice, would you save a life that your neighbor would be there to save if you did not or would you save a life which would be lost unless you stepped up?

Secondly, the key work has already been done with the above organizations. Take developmental disabilities education, for example. Thank God, just about everyone gets what it means to have autism. There was a time when this was not the case. Many thought it a badge of weakness and a stain upon a family to have a kid on the spectrum. Some parents would hide this information for fear of it affecting their other kids’ marriage prospects. Some were just ignorant of what a developmental disorder was and tried to “treat” their child for being “crazy”. That was wholly disgusting. We are not, however, in that time anymore. The heavy lifting for developmental disabilities awareness has been taken care of. Mental illness equality and awareness, however, is much closer to a societal understanding befitting the stone ages than appropriate for 2019.

Leaving Your Mark

Imagine being that person who spearheaded the breakthrough and enabled women facing breast cancer to get the support they deserve? Being this person might just mean you save lives. Well, you will never be that person. Rochelle Shoretz (may her memory be a blessing) already inspirationally began the powerhouse organization Sharsheret in 2001 while undergoing chemotherapy.

For those looking to leave their mark for a better world, there is an opportunity still available to save lives. More teenagers and young adults die from suicide than from cancer, heart disease, AIDS, birth defects, stroke, pneumonia, influenza, and chronic lung disease, COMBINED. Overall, suicide is the second leading cause of death for those age 10-24. (2016 CDC WISQARS)

Be that person. Work to correct the way mental illness is viewed.

Understanding The Fight

There is a thick and unrelenting societal stigma saying that mental illness means weakness, not sickness. It is false, malicious and largely still unchallenged. The stigma causes so many to suffer, scared and alone – adults, teens and little kids alike. Maybe the ten-year-old girl just doesn’t know what is going on with her thinking patterns. Maybe the teenaged guy knows it is likely mental illness but is afraid to be that weak boy, not good enough to get married. Their parents don’t want the stain on their family, leading them to deny something is going on with their kid or take measures to hide the information from others.

Indeed, a prominent Rabbi recently sympathized with my work for mental illness equality, but in the next breath confessed he would not let his daughter date someone who had overcome mental illness. He could not get over his preconceived discriminatory mindset towards the mentally ill.

This approach and general mindset lead the ill to get sicker when they could be utilizing the treatments available. Some never get healthier and achieve their potential; some end up being lost to suicide. Is this the best our community can be?

Do The Right Thing

All of the previously mentioned organizations and causes are important and volunteering for them for the right reasons is a virtue. However, NCSY and Yachad are ultimately backed by the powerful Orthodox Union. (Not to mention that the Orthodox Union, despite their vast resources, has shown just about no appetite for helping Jews with mental illness.) There are many other organizations and causes who have already achieved incredible traction. With mental illness – particularly in the Jewish community – it is literally still possible to be that person who cracks the code to the stigma and ends the mental illness discrimination. With the suicide rate relentlessly rising, this is not hyperbole: You could save countless lives.

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Very quickly I saw that the other people in the group, were “normal” people with “normal” lives, just they were struggling, as do all humans. At our core, we had more in common than not. Sure, we may look different, our struggles may appear a little different too, and our unhealthy coping mechanisms may play out a little differently from one another. But, at the end of the day, we are all caring human beings who are trying our best to make it in this world.

In my opinion, people who go through these struggles, and go through therapy, end up as stronger people later in life. Because of our mental illnesses, we are forced to deal with our problems, and we will be healthier later in life and more equipped to deal with other problems that come our way. Whereas, people who are never forced to look inside themselves and deal with their “stuff” sometimes crash when life throws them something that is difficult or unfamiliar. I think the group sessions also made me a lot more accepting and nonjudgmental of others.

Bottom line: Therapy isn’t for “crazy” or “weird” people. It’s pretty normal actually. Once I opened up to my friends, I was shocked to hear how many people in my life go to therapy. People struggle. It’s part of being human. If you ask my opinion, I think everyone should go to therapy (mental illness or not). You have your Rav, your doctor, and your therapist. Spiritual, physical, and mental health. Again, it’s part of being human, i.e normal!! 🙂

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The Connor Project: A fictitious movement based on a fictitious story conceived by the minds behind the fictitious Broadway play Dear Evan Hansen. For many, however, this project enabled the most real feelings they have experienced in a long time. Children, teens, and adults alike – who have felt overlooked for much of their lives – felt like they mattered.

How could a Broadway show elicit such powerful feelings? Dear Evan Hansen follows the story of its title character – Evan Hansen. Evan is a high school kid believed to have been the best and only friend of classmate Connor Murphy, who loses his life to suicide early in the play. Desperately wanting answers, Connor’s parents turn to Evan to learn about the life of the son they hardly knew. The challenge: Evan must contend with this role thrust upon him while battling his depression and crushing social anxiety, an illness so powerful that Evan would sooner lie in bed starving through the night than have to interact with the pizza delivery man. Also of issue: Evan in reality knew next to nothing about Connor.

Evan battles through his illness and lack of knowledge about Connor to try to bring some comfort to the Murphy family by coming up with answers to their questions. As if that isn’t hard enough, at the urging of a classmate who wants to keep the memory of Evan’s “best friend” alive, Evan starts The Connor Project. The mission of the movement is to make certain nobody has to feel alone and forgotten, presumably how Connor felt before losing his life. This is as well arguably the theme of the play – nobody deserves to be forgotten.

Forgetting Alana

Enter Alana Beck. She is the before-mentioned classmate as well as the co-President of the Connor Project. There is nothing about the play that epitomizes the state of mental health more than Alana. She is the forgotten character of Dear Evan Hansen.

While Evan and Connor get most of the attention during the production itself and post-play analysis, Alana is swept away. However, she just about defines the life of high-functioning anxiety. Don’t take my word that she is struggling; take her words. Lost in the shuffle towards the end of the play is what should be a stinging cry for help from Alana. While defending her interest in the Connor Project as more than just an item for the extracurricular checklist, she bursts out, “I know what it’s like to feel invisible. Just like Connor. Invisible and alone and like nobody would even notice if I vanished into thin air.”

Alana’s High-Functioning Anxiety

In addition to this blunt plea for support, she exhibits many of the signs Psychology Today identifies with high-functioning anxiety:

-She is a perfectionist and overachiever to an unhealthy extent – as she reports early in the play that she filled her summer with three internships and ninety hours of community service. High-functioning anxiety is fueled by an incessant fear of failure.
-She constantly feels the need to be doing something, jumping to self-appoint herself as co-President of the Connor Project and frequently starting new initiatives for the project. Those with high-functioning anxiety get anxious and feel they are not doing enough to succeed if they are not constantly active.
-She has trouble making friends or feeling she has friends; rather, she throughout the plays refers to her many “close acquaintances.” It is tough for many with mental illness to accept or make friends.
-She is pent up with energy she doesn’t know what do with, leading her to interrupt fellow characters throughout. This is also a sign of high-functioning anxiety,

Despite her compelling and important story, Alana gets swallowed up by splashier storylines. How ironic that a play about forgetting nobody could allow its own character in need to be overlooked by the critics and general audience. High-functioning mental illness needs our support as all mental illness does.

The Deafening Irony

This barely scratches the irony, however. Alana Beck, in fact, epitomizes what is wrong with how mental illness is viewed. Mental illness equality cannot hold weight when competing for attention with other important issues like LGBTQ rights or women’s rights or racial equality or similar hot button issues. Nor can mental illness equality gain a following of supporters when competing with other health causes like cancer awareness or helping those with disabilities.

This runs directly contrary to what the statistics say should get our attention most. More teenagers and young adults die from suicide than from cancer, heart disease, AIDS, birth defects, stroke, pneumonia, influenza, and chronic lung disease, COMBINED. Overall, suicide is the second leading cause of death for those age 10-24. (2016 CDC WISQARS)

There are too many people going through their childhood, their lives, suffering and in indescribable pain, with not nearly enough people fighting for them. So much crushing loneliness. It doesn’t have to be this way. If only mental illness was not forgotten like Alana Beck is forgotten.

Diving Into The Disparity

Why is there such disparity between garnering support for most causes and support for mental illness equality? One factor is that it is easy to feel good about oneself for contributing to Yachad or NCSY or Sharsheret or Bnei Akiva or Chai Lifeline or you name the organization. This is predominantly because of two reasons:

Firstly, with those causes, one can tangibly see the pain or problem which they are helping with. There are clear signs of a person with autism or cancer, leaving no doubt they deserve all the support possible. Mental illness, though, remains stuck in secrecy and unclarity. One cannot simply look at their friend’s debilitating social anxiety.

Secondly, involvement with all of the above organizations is universally encouraged and applauded. One can smile ear to ear while proudly writing “Yachad Coordinator” on their Shidduch (dating) resume. Boasting being a volunteer for Refuat Hanefesh or Active Minds, however, could very well be greeted with confusion.

Be Part of The Solution

Watch the Dear Evan Hansen play. Or better yet, read the book. (Word is there’s a movie coming out too.) Take in the book’s lifelike descriptions of what it’s like to live with social anxiety. Enjoy the flashy gimmicks and cry along with the fellow theatergoers at the show. But don’t forget about Alana Beck. Please, don’t watch the play only to forget that it is incumbent upon each of us to fight for mental illness equality. Do not allow yourself to be part of the irony.

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The piles of paper stacked along the perimeter of the hall were being lit up by the kind of artificial lighting in classrooms from the sixties. The basement had a few windows that were covered in white blinds and spider webs from when the house was built. I had moved down there from the second floor when my brother, Aaron, was born. Another bedroom was needed, and I wanted more privacy. It was perfect. The room did not get much daylight, but the floral duvet and artwork from my summers at camp made it comfortable.

When It All Started

When the thoughts started in elementary school I felt like I was crazy. I remember sitting in Tefilah (prayer) with my group of friends, not wanting to be there. I did not like talking to them, I did not like coming to school, and I just wanted to be in bed. There were days where I spent hours paralyzed, just staring at the wall. My nightly routine consisted of sitting on my butt feeling helpless, browsing every website for signs and symptoms that proved I wasn’t insane. It took four years of reading over the same self-help articles and trying self-care techniques from Pinterest before I considered the possibility that maybe I wasn’t just being too sensitive. Maybe my feelings were valid.

During this time, I was tested for learning disabilities. For two days, the doctors gave me tests and asked questions. There was one point where a psychologist came and asked about my life. She told me everything was confidential and then asked about my friends and life at home. I did not know why they thought something was wrong to begin with. But, when she asked me if I had ever thought about taking my life, I did not want to answer any more questions. For years afterward, I wished I had just been honest. Everything would have been easier. I was young, and no one would have expected me to explain myself. No one would make fun of me.

Some nights I thought about doing it. Some nights it was really bad, and all I had the energy to do was sit on the floor shaking. Everything was emotionally exhausting. Conversations with friends and family were draining, causing me to isolate myself for days to recover. For months I brought my food down to my room during dinner. Sitting with my family, even for a few minutes, was overwhelming.

Finally Telling My Mom

It felt like I was outside of my body, watching as I did something I told myself I could never do. I knew that things were going to be different. I thought to myself, “How would Dad react? He tells me I am a stupid teenage girl that wants attention. That I am a brat. G-d, I just hope he doesn’t say anything to me. Maybe Mom doesn’t have to tell him…”

I told myself it was just a rut, that I was stuck in a phase, that I just had to snap out of it. Maybe once middle school was over, things would be better. Once exams were over, things would be better. Once my life was over, things would be better.

“Mummy?” I giggle quietly, flattening the baby hairs around my ponytail and tightening it. It snaps in half, and I pull it away from my head, shoving it in my pocket. I reach the desk at the end of the hall. Pages cover the wall, and two cups with coffee rings around the center sit on top of the printer. A few tears start forming in the corners of my eyes, and I blink them away.

“Yeah?” She responds, looking back at a patient’s file that is open on the screen.

“Uhh, I think I’m depressed.”

The chair swivels towards me, and she pushes her purple glasses up to her forehead. They were dark and rich, complementing her smooth, ivory skin. The tears start pouring out, dripping down my cheeks and onto my neck. I giggle again. I move my eyes around the room. Watching through my foggy lenses, she stands up and wraps her arms around me. In fifteen years, I have never seen my mother walk away from her computer without hitting the save button multiple times. Her skin is cool, but her body leaves a warm pressure around my torso. I stand there as she loosens her arms and walks into my bedroom. She sits down against the wall next to my bed. Across the room, I sit at my desk. Pushing my feet off the desk, I spin around slowly a couple times.

“Are you going to kill yourself?”

“No,” I respond quickly. I had thought about it before but had never gotten close to doing it.

“Are you sure?” She asked again.

“Yes! Oh my God, I already said I’m not.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. What can I do? Tomorrow I’m going to call the doctor’s office. Do you want to go to the hospital tonight?” My mother sat on the floor with her legs sprawled out on the carpet. She had never been this focused when I’ve talked to her before. This type of concentration is something I only see when she’s working.

“I don’t know.” I kept spinning in the chair. My head hurt, but I knew that if I stopped, I’d have to look my mother in the eyes.

Looking Forward

The hard part was over. I told my mother, but I was still uncomfortable sharing more. Being vulnerable was not a common thing in my family. Despite whatever backlash I was going to get from my father, I was proud of myself for finally opening up. Knowing that my mother was supporting me gave me a sense of relief. I had reached the point where I would not have been able to live much longer in the state I was in. My life was a mess, but reaching out for help brought me hope. I was not sure if things would get better, but I was certain that they could not get worse.

I knew that my life could only go up from here.

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A neighbor is sick with cancer.

She is a mother of three young kids and is in and out of the hospital. As her neighbor, you partake in efforts to babysit her kids, start a meal train, offer her support in any way, and be there for her family.

A different neighbor is sick with depression.

She is a mother of three young kids and is in and out of the hospital. To be honest, you really do feel bad. But you stay away.

Understanding The Differing Reactions

Why? For some reason, we, as a society, generally do not equate physical and mental illnesses. As a result, we cannot provide people with mental illnesses with the proper support.

When someone has cancer, we do not talk about it under the label “physical health issue” in order to feel comfortable. We call it exactly for what it is- an illness. A disease. Perhaps even a battle. A sometimes curable, sometimes treatable, definitely supportable ILLNESS.

The earlier someone is aware of the illness, the more likely it is that someone can be helped. Illnesses require knowledge and education. They require care and attention. They require compassion and empathy.

And so do mental illnesses.

Just like we promote physical health and raise awareness for physical illnesses, so too we must promote mental health and raise awareness for mental illness.

Words Matter

Our word choice reflects our hopes for our society – let’s label things appropriately and sensitively. Let’s not shy away from reality and undermine the problems we face (to varying extents).

Let’s stop employing euphemisms when dealing with things related to our brains and emotions. I am not scared of the word “mental” put together with “illness”. If we already treated mental illnesses as actual illnesses, we would not need to be breaking the silence- there would be no silence.

But right now we are too scared to talk, too afraid to get close to the thing, and very far from accepting it for what it is- an illness like all others.

Equating Properly Breaks The Stigma

There is room for mental health conversations, and those conversations are very important. They are critical. But when we talk about mental illnesses such as depression, suicidality, bipolar, and others, why aren’t we labeling those conversations as related to mental illnesses? Is that not what they are?

Unless we want to start labeling things like diabetes and cancer as “physical health”, I refuse to label mental illnesses as “mental health”.

Step number ONE to ending the stigma, and by definition subsequently better helping those that need help, is by equating physical illness and mental illness.

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To My Parents, Siblings, Cousins, Family Friends, and Community:

Although this is an anonymous letter and you don’t know who I am, I hope this letter will still serve its function. There is something in my heart that I wish to tell you, something that has been aching and will continuously ache until it’s said. I hope you will hear me out in a kind and compassionate light.

Even with all of the adversity I faced, I B’ezrat Hashem (with God’s help) passed grade school and entered college to get a degree in special education. While in college, I’m employed as an assistant for lower elementary grades. Baruch Hashem (thank God), I’ve grown a lot from my challenges. I’m kinder and a patient educator. I’m more self-aware and have a close relationship with Hashem. I have also gained a lot of knowledge through enduring my challenges.

Despite all these accomplishments and personal growth, I feel just as alone as ever. When I was that studious elementary school girl – sitting quietly in a small corner, pouring over textbooks, and getting all A’s – what I was craving was recognition. When I cheerfully waved my A+ in front of you – my family, teachers, and friends – what I was trying so very hard to do was be acknowledged. Yes, you complimented me and showered me with many smiles, but you stopped short of seeing my beauty, strengths, talents, and qualities. This scenario repeated itself many times over. It always started with good words and smiling faces, and it ended there. I was time and again left hurt and alone, longing to be recognized and seen.

What could you have done and what can you do to help me be seen and recognized? The compliments were good but always stopped short of the whole story. They were missing how far I had come despite my adversity. This wasn’t talked about.

I love writing and giving over wisdom that I hope will help others. Yet, you – my father – discouraged me from sharing my articles and letters, joining the many who give in to the weight of the stigma. This made me feel worse. People often miss the point in that “protecting” someone from the stigmatic perceptions, it makes them feels worse. You – the numerous Jewish publications whom I submitted my writings to – mysteriously rejected these important topics.

To my parents and the community leaders: Allow me to share my experiences with the community so that I can help and inspire people battling similar challenges which I have. If we live in fear of the stigma, we will never overcome the stigma. In helping others and sharing my experiences and triumphs, I will finally be seen.

Thank you for reading.

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I started working for a game-changing mental health student club called Active Minds as the Yeshiva University chapter President. By publicly establishing myself as an unwavering mental health advocate, I’ve had friends, some close and some distant, open up to me about their struggles. As such, I’ve been exposed to a whole new world of pain and of hope, of struggles and of triumph.

What I’ve Seen

From all of this, I’ve seen a lot of pain.

I have seen friends whose addiction to alcohol and drugs is literally ruining their lives and destroying their futures.

I’ve had friends burst out in tears as they told me how their social anxiety prevented them from being an NCSY advisor and living out their dreams to inspire others.

I’ve been told stories from friends about family members who are bipolar and the struggles that they and their loved ones go through all the time.

I was approached by a kid in one of my classes from last semester, and he told me about how he frequently had intense yet practically unnoticeable panic attacks right in the middle of class.

I’ve heard about people who I go to school with who are battling thoughts about suicide, and some who’ve attempted it (unsuccessfully, thank G-d).

I learned about a friend of mine from school, someone who I saw and talked to almost every day, was secretly battling depression.

And, to top it off, someone I was solid friends with but not super-close, a person who I had viewed as always confident and in control, opened up to me last year about how he had just started taking medication for suicidal thoughts and anxiety.

Who Are These People?

But what surprises me the most, the thing that really shocks me is not how these people are different from everyone else, but how they’re the same.

Many of these people are student club presidents, honors students, youth advisors, and camp counselors. They play basketball in the gym, hang out in the lounges, and tag people in “The Office” memes on Facebook. Some have high-level, full-time jobs. Many of them are dating, and some are happily married. And all of them, without exception, are true inspirations.

I look at all these people and the whole lives they live despite whatever emptiness they may feel inside, and I can’t help but just shake my head in disbelief. How do they do it? How do they overcome so much and live such positive, hopeful lives?

Warriors or Weirdos?

In every area of life, overcoming adversity rightfully earns you a badge of honor and labels you as an inspiration to all and a symbol of hope. Whether it’s an athlete returning from a horrific injury, a person with special needs being a crucial, lovable member of society, or a young mother battling cancer, these people are the heroes in our lives who inspire us to dream and give us the strength to face our own challenges. They are, in every sense of the word, the living, breathing, and true embodiment of the word “warrior.”

Yet, when it comes to mental health struggles, something so common and real that it affects millions and millions of people directly and even more people indirectly, these people don’t get badges of honor; they get badges of shame. Some are shunned and some are ridiculed. Some are misunderstood and some are called weak. Some, if not most, struggle in silence, so deathly afraid of what society will think of them.

These are the same people, as I mentioned above, who accomplish so much despite having control of so little. The people who overcome unimaginable difficulties and go to battle every single day. The people who don’t focus on what holds them back, but rather what springs them forward. The people who fight, and fight, and won’t ever stop fighting.

Society tries to tell these people that if they have a mental illness, they’re weirdos.

I say they’re warriors.

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Well, response one is I’m happily employed; in fact, maybe too happily employed, as I carry titles here at Refuat Hanefesh and within the accounting world. To the second point regarding dating: that is fair. It is one thing for someone married/engaged/in a relationship to do what I do. Their significant other already knows them well enough to know the truth, that what they have overcome and moved past gives them unparalleled strength, not some murky weakness. But me; why do I put myself out there?

I Understand What It’s Like

Because I remember what it’s like to be alone. I remember what it’s like to have a loneliness that goes so much deeper than the literal sense of not being in the company of others. When I was a little kid and teen – not so successfully battling mysterious feelings – it didn’t matter if I was in an auditorium with a thousand people: I was so alone. In fact, the more people in a room with me, the more alone I was. All these people, yet nobody gets me.

Granted, I now know how wrong I was. I know that it is statistically absurd to think that there were not many people in my school or that I knew who were battling mental illness in some form on some scale (as I later realized was the root of these mysterious and scary feelings). Even though some probably didn’t and still don’t realize that they were battling and even if they did realize, nobody would dare share something so damning as the fact they were seeking treatment from a therapist or mental health doctor.

Stifling Loneliness

Those who are in the thick of mental illness are presented challenges rivaled by none others. Maybe most difficult of all is that feeling of loneliness, like nobody gets you. Shanee Markovitz put it best in her recent Stomp Out The Stigma speech: “If only each of those thousands (who have spoken to me about their mental illness) knew how many others felt just like them… We must not accept a world where so many hundreds of thousands of people do not know how so not alone they are, how so like everyone else they are.”

It is numbing to think of the opportunity I have to make sure that as many people as I can possibly reach know without a trace of doubt that they are not alone. Coming across articles or speeches like mine would have been huge for younger me. I will not sit idly by while the next boy, girl or anyone suffocates in loneliness. Being able to help others in this small way is not lost on me and I am truly grateful for it.

This opportunity to stifle loneliness does not just belong to me. It belongs to the countless others who have as well moved past their mental illness. I hope you will join me and take this opportunity, but I understand if for now – while society is still catching up to reality – you feel you cannot.

You Are Never Alone

As I discussed in the open, I have made the decision to make sure you know that you are not alone at great personal sacrifice. So do me just one favor: Know that I am in your corner. Know that I am fighting for you because I care about you and I believe in you. As hard as it may be, I believe that you will seek help and you will get healthier. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but there are so many people in your life who want to understand and help. Just try to reach out. One day, maybe you’ll be the one writing this article.

While there is a lot about life which is not necessarily certain, by reading this piece, you have no choice but to be certain that you are not alone. Not now, not ever.

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I have been embarrassed for a long time because of the stigma surrounding mental health, and I still am even though I am writing about it. I am writing to break the stigma and show myself –and hopefully others– that there really is nothing to be ashamed of.

I was embarrassed about my anxiety and depression –especially when I first got diagnosed– although I am more OK with it now because I feel like enough people have these issues and that the awareness for them is strong and only getting stronger. Don’t get me wrong; I am still embarrassed about them, but I just understand them more. I understand that this happens to many people and that it’s not my fault. I am, however, way more embarrassed about something else: my OCD.

The OCD Cycle

I have OCD. I get stuck in the “OCD cycle,” and it’s taking over my life. My head is a scary place to be right now, and I have to live there every second of every day.

People have said to me, “There’s nothing wrong with you! Everyone’s like that! You’re not special!” I am not saying that I am “special;” I am saying that I am feeling a certain way and that I know something is wrong. Due to people saying this to me, I too often feel like my constant struggles aren’t enough to “qualify” me for having a legitimate case of OCD. Be careful what you say, because after hearing these things, I just feel worse about myself and like I’m an attention seeker.

Think Before You Speak

So, please, I beg you: don’t belittle someone’s mental illness. You are not in their head, so, therefore, you cannot know what they are feeling. When someone is telling you that there is something wrong, DON’T tell them there isn’t! It just makes things worse and creates more stigma and embarrassment for the person.

If you don’t understand what’s going on, ask!

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I’ve Gone

Yes, I have been to the “mental hospital” not once, but twice. The truth is that going isn’t as scary as it sounds. I’m not going to lie: it’s not fun either, but it is a good place to heal and get better, to take a break from the fast-paced norm and focus on oneself. Just like one goes to the hospital to stitch up a cut, one also goes to stitch up wounds that aren’t visible.

You might be wondering why a seemingly “normal” Modern Orthodox girl had to go to a psychiatric hospital, twice at that. Well, I was suicidal, and my therapist didn’t think I could keep myself safe.

Two Trips; Two Experiences

I was at the “mental hospital” for about one week each time. The first time, it was extremely scary. I cried all the time and didn’t get much out of it. You have to want to get help to get help, and at that time, I didn’t want to get help. However, the hospital still did its job of keeping me safe.

My second stay was a lot more helpful. I participated in groups and talked to my social worker. I also happened to make some really good friends. They were just like me; I related to them. I never thought I would relate to someone in a “mental hospital,” and yet I did. The people there were just like anyone of us.

A Day in The Ward

A day in a psychiatric hospital is very structured. There is a specific time to wake up, eat, go to group, meet with your social worker and psychiatrist, and of course free time.

The day which stands out is my last day in the second hospital. It started like any other day there. We woke up, ate breakfast, had our vitals checked, went outside to get some fresh air, and then had group. This group was divided based on the reason everyone was there, so we could relate to the others in our group. My group was me and three other girls around my age. We proceeded to become really good friends since we had a lot in common: we were all 19, in college, and struggling. Even in “mental hospitals” there are friend groups!

We began a project in which we had to create a poster with any theme we chose, but each of us could only choose one color and we had to stick with it. It wasn’t as easy as it sounds. My group decided to draw a farm. In the end, we had to explain our picture and the experience of making it together. It was a great bonding experience and we learned a lot from and about one another.

Even though I don’t keep in touch with all the friends I made there, I think about them every so often and wonder how they are doing. They are probably the most genuine, down-to-earth, relatable friends I’ve had. I miss them dearly and hope they are doing okay.

Described above is just a little glimpse into a typical stay as a patient in a psychiatric hospital.

Why I Speak Up

I am sharing this experience to help break the stigma surrounding mental illness. If you have to go to a psychiatric hospital, it’s okay to be a little scared, but just like with treating a wound, there is absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. Know that everyone there wants to help you get better.

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Tuning Me Out

It’s is rather easy to tune out a message – no matter how critically important it may be – when the message is coming from just one or very few guys. For example, one person repeating his belief ten times to Person X that one must support those in need becomes ineffective fast bordering on boring. However, ten people each saying to Person X their belief that one must support those in need has a chance to make an impression.

This is precisely the realization I recently came to. I can shout the ugly truths and facts about the way those with a mental illness are viewed and treated until I burst a lung, but it won’t have nearly the impact as others joining me in this pursuit of basic civil decency. Not to mention that the message carries less weight from me, someone biased, having myself fought the illness and accompanying stigma.

Facing this reality, I sought out to capture the minds of my peers – both those having confronted mental illness and not – in convincing them to join me in spreading the message that the mental health stigma is criminal. At best, the stigma is leaving people terribly alone in their fight with these horrible illnesses. At worst, it is causing them to refuse to acknowledge their illness with treatment. Thus, they get sicker yet and closer to acting on some of their scary mental illness-driven desires.

Explaining The Problem

As one method of helping my peers envision the stigma, I asked them to imagine having to battle something terrible like cancer. Next, I told them that they must do so without a support system, with their family and friends questioning the legitimacy of their cancer. Maybe you end up deciding that it is best to keep your disease bottled up and refuse chemotherapy. The risk is just too much that your illness will become public to possibly be caught seeing a doctor. Not to mention receiving treatment is tantamount to admitting to yourself that you have this inferiority that is cancer. While this sounds a bit twisted, people are suffering and dying because the mental illness stigma causes very similar scenarios for the mentally ill as those described above with the theoretical person with cancer.

Fight The Stigma With Me

After I gave the explanation of the mental health stigma and inequality in this way or a different manner, I implored my peers: we’re all human beings here; let’s fight this atrocity together. Let’s improve lives.

The reception I received was mortifying. While nobody disagreed that there is a societal problem, those with a mental illness were afraid to speak up. Those without a mental illness were afraid to associate themselves with fighting the stigma for fear that one may possibly suspect they are secretly hiding a mental health concern. (Ironic.) Even asking a handful of my Facebook friends to simply share a post with the link to Refuat Hanefesh’s potentially game-changing Creative Expression Contest was rebuffed. Responses ranged from the good old “I’ll think about it” (I’m sure) to “I don’t really use Facebook” (yes you do) to “Yeah, I’ll post this later” (no you didn’t) to people flat out stating their fear of being seen associated in any way with a mental health cause.

The Hard Questions

Is this the world we want to live in? Can just a few courageous individuals step up to the plate? The way the stigma dies is by so many people with mental illness speaking their truths that society has no choice but to accept us as the equals we are. The way the stigma dies is by those without a mental illness not just being fine with fighting for mental health equality, but feeling that it is their moral obligation to. Maybe breaking this stigma thing doesn’t have to be more complicated than just saying a few words. Will you speak up?

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The Loss of Chester

This past July, we lost famed Linkin Park singer Chester Bennington to suicide. Chester was known as many things: a rock legend, revolutionary, genuine and second-to-none performer. Probably, though, he would have described himself as none of those things before family man. In his will, he made a point of specifying that his six children be given every bit of money needed to travel and see each other. Per his last testament, “My children (should) know that they have a large and loving family.”

Confronted with the death of their father only a few months after his 41st birthday, Chester’s children should naturally be expected to grieve and not much else. Chester’s third child, Draven, saw past his grief and to the opportunity to help others and honor his father’s life. So just weeks after his father’s passing – as September’s National Suicide Prevention Week dawned – the fifteen-year-old took to the interview circuit to discuss a matter too close to his heart, suicide prevention.

Draven Speaks Out

Among many moving topics, Draven reported the past weeks don’t feel real; maybe it’s all a bad joke. He loves his Dad and wishes for anything else besides what happened. Contrary to what one might think, Draven discussed how happy his father seemed, how good he was at hiding his emotions. They were together – as happy as ever – just a week before his death. If he could say something to his father? “I wish he would have reached out more. I wish he would have talked about (how he was feeling). He did a little bit but then he covered up a lot.”

There’s the key. Let’s talk about mental health. For those who know someone who has at some point had tough battles, reach out to them. Ask how everything is. Regardless of how well they may seem to be doing, so many are too good at covering up. For those battling inside, particularly battles as scary as contemplating taking your life, talk to someone. Draven discussed how he wishes so much his father had just talked more about his inner-battles, that he was more open about the lasting impact his rough childhood had on him.

Following Draven’s Example

Setting aside how incredibly impressive and inspirational his reaction to his father’s passing is, Draven couldn’t be more on point. Let’s talk about it. Covering up mental health brings nothing but pain, whether it’s a parent who doesn’t educate their children, friends who fear their friends “finding out”, or a beloved father who suffers silently in secrecy. The world would be such a better place if we brought much-needed normalcy to discussing mental health. After all, there’s nothing weak or inferior about it.

Since his father’s passing, Draven found out that a lot of people he knows dealt similarly to what he is going through but didn’t speak up about it, preventing him from at least being there for them. This attitude of enabling and even encouraging killer mental health secrecy can’t continue. In his viral video (below), with the tune of his father’s mega-hit song Numb playing in the background, Draven implores his listeners to help yourself. Talk to someone if you are feeling depressed or sad.

Let’s follow Draven’s example; let’s talk about it.

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Before the cast of survivors went into full out clapping mode, Logic performed his statement song which is titled, “1-800-273-8255,” the number to the National Suicide Prevention Hotline. The song, which has climbed as high as the billboard’s top five, takes its listener through a journey of a man who is down on life to the point where he declares that he does not want to live anymore. However, after talking matters through and chatting with a hotline worker, the man realizes that he wants to live. On the VMA stage, more than simply singing this catchy and important song, Logic was asking a fair question: when is it enough?

Icons Dying by Suicide

On July 20th, just days before the three year anniversary of comedy legend Robin Williams’ death by suicide, the music industry woke to the news that Chester Bennington, the lead singer of the iconic band Linkin Park, took his life. In one of his last public appearances less than two months before his suicide, the iconic singer performed the iconic song “Hallelujah”. What was the occasion? He was paying tribute at the funeral of his dear friend, rock star Chris Cornell. Chris died by suicide.

To Logic’s question, when is it enough? At what point do we stop considering those with mental illness to be of an inferior breed? In addition to being inaccurate, this societal approach kills. If uber-celebrities feel that people will categorize them as broken if they speak their truths and get medical help for their illnesses, the average man or woman is not going to fare much better.

Logic and Kesha Have Enough

With the suicide survivors littering the stage at the VMAs, Logic delivered his message that business as usual is over, that we have seen enough unnecessary death. His exact words: “I want to thank you all so much for giving me a platform to talk about something that the mainstream media doesn’t want to talk about: mental health and anxiety; suicide and depression… I am here to fight for your equality because I believe that we are all born equal but we are not treated equally, and that is why we must fight.” Yep, those of us with mental illness are equal and anything but inferior. Logic decided that it’s time that we are treated like it.

One mega-singer who was eager to join Logic in informing the crowd that business as usual is over was Kesha. “The truth is piercing and the truth is what matters,” Kesha opined in introducing Logic. “And the truth is that none of us are alone. It takes great courage to show the vulnerable side of being human, and we all have that vulnerable side. Whatever you are going through, however dark it may seem, there is an undeniable truth and strength in the fact that you are not alone. We all have struggles. As long as you never give up on yourself, light will break through the darkness.”

Doing Our Part to End Business as Usual

On the heels of celebrating Rosh Hashana, the Jewish people now enter the period known as the Ten Days of Repentance. This is a period of introspection. Let’s do it right this year. Let’s dwell on how we could have done more to push back against the killer mental illness stigma. Maybe we even unwittingly contributed to it by treating those with mental illness lesser than we would someone without. Regardless, we must do better. It is time to answer Logic’s question of when is it enough? I’d like to think we’ve all had enough. So let’s all decide it: business as usual is over.

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