From Caregiver to Patient: A Psychologist's Journey Through Mental Health Challenges

Elisheva Raz was a mother to four young children when she found herself hospitalized at the 'Shalvata' mental health center. Speaking about her experiences nearly nine years later, her calm voice belies the intense experiences that led her there.

"Honestly, for a long time, I felt a huge sense of shame and didn’t openly share what I went through during that hospitalization," she reflects. "Today, I have ten children, and even they didn’t know for some time. Despite being a psychologist, it took me a while to realize the importance of discussing these issues, explaining them to my children, and even conveying them to others. People often don’t realize how common mental health struggles are. There are so many experiencing similar challenges but are just afraid to talk about them. I must say, after I raised the subject, I often heard from others who dealt with similar things how meaningful it was for them that I 'give voice' for them."

Elisheva Raz

Darkness in Mid-Life

Elisheva grew up in the Shomron region among her six siblings. At the age of 20, she lost her father and subsequently sought professional vocational guidance to choose a suitable career path.

"The guidance suggested, 'You have many abilities, but you should focus on helping people, preferably by studying psychology,'" she recalls. "It felt right, so I successfully completed five years of studies. Towards the end of my undergraduate degree, I got married, and we moved to live in the Shomron near my mother, as my husband was in the army.

"I continued to a master's degree in rehabilitative neuropsychology and began an internship in a hospital setting. Towards the end of the second year of my internship, I faced challenging experiences at work where I didn't find my place. At the same time, I had four young children at home. Eventually, I left the internship and returned home, loaded with negative feelings. I was in early pregnancy, and we were starting to build our home in the Shomron, which involved many financial expenses, pressure, and activities. The challenging experiences at work, pressure, child-rearing, pregnancy hormones, and severe anemia I suffered eventually pushed me into a state of 'depression during pregnancy.' My depression was the agitated type, characterized by restlessness, excessive irritability, and anger outbursts. Of course, there were also common depressive symptoms—loss of appetite, sleep disorder, concentration difficulties, low self-esteem, rigid thinking, and guilt feelings. It's likely I also had a hypomanic episode. It’s characterized by excessive energy, sleep issues, and sometimes rudeness."

How did it manifest externally?

"People couldn’t identify the depression but noticed signs of irritability, restlessness, and decision-making difficulties, particularly regarding building our house. I hesitated over everything, even the food I ate. My sleep was very disrupted, with strange awakenings in the middle of the night and inability to fall back asleep."

Yet you continued with your routine?

"Yes. I maintained my regular routine, and it was deceptive because people assume a depressed person is bedridden, which is not necessarily the case. I functioned at a high level, managing the family, and even building the new house with my hands—creating mezuzahs, bathroom tiles, and sinks from ceramics. I was very involved, and perhaps that’s why the depression worsened, because I didn't allow myself to acknowledge the mental experiences I was going through.

"My physical appearance changed too. Since depression is often accompanied by appetite disorder, mine manifested as not eating, since I simply didn't enjoy food, leading me to become underweight and very thin. Much of my restlessness, agitation, and irritability were noticeable."

"The only person who noticed my peculiar symptoms was a close friend, also a psychologist, who encouraged me to seek treatment, which was the right decision. That friend also encouraged psychiatric treatment, and for some time, I took a low dose of antidepressants. During a therapy session, I mentioned self-harm thoughts, prompting my therapist to tell me, 'If you think about it again—call me, please.'"

(Photo: shutterstock)

A Cry from Hospitalization

During one summer day, with the new house almost completed, Elisheva experienced a very difficult episode. "It was amidst a lot of chaos," she describes. "I promised the kids I’d take them to the playground, and they started fighting. In response, I felt immense rage within me. True to my habit, I directed this aggression at myself. I remember bringing the kids home from the park, then sending a distraught text to my husband: 'Please pray for me to swallow the pills.' It was an expression of suicidal intent.

"I was upset, crying, struggling to breathe, pacing back and forth, and then, in this emotional storm, I remembered my therapist who had told me to call her. She answered immediately, telling me: 'Once your husband arrives home, you go to the hospital. Do not use personal judgment.' She realized I wasn’t able to make decisions by myself."

Recalling that day, Elisheva notes that while her therapist's words were harsh, they undoubtedly saved her. "My husband hurried home, and since we didn’t want to involve anyone or call an ambulance, I drove myself to Geha, where I met a lovely psychiatrist and department head who received me kindly. Suddenly, she turned and said: 'I’m very sorry. You can’t stay here because we’re in area code 03, and you live in 09.' As strange as it sounds, that was the procedure in psychiatric hospitals. I understood from her that I had to go to the 'Shalvata' hospital, designated for the area where I reside. Somehow I managed to get back in the car and continue driving, arriving exhausted at 'Shalvata' around midnight, undergoing the admission process.

"I was admitted by a psychiatrist who informed me that on the first night, I’d be confined to a room until senior psychiatrists assess the risk the next day and decide where to place me. He then referred me to a nurse to receive the hospital pajamas and suddenly I saw next to me the former chief rabbi – Rabbi Avichai Ronski, who knew me personally and had taught me in the past. I didn’t say anything to him, nor did he speak. I felt shocked, unable to talk to anyone due to the mental anguish. Suddenly, a verse popped into my mind: 'And the children of Israel cried out... and their cry went up to Hashem.' I once heard the interpretation of 'cried out' as lacking words to express, and only Hashem can hear such a cry. That’s exactly how I felt during the hospitalization, realizing more than ever that the only presence with me was Hashem."

In the Psychiatric Ward

That evening, upon her psychiatric emergency room admission, Elisheva felt an overwhelming need to contact Rabbi Ronski, sending him a text: "Sorry I didn’t say hello. Not very comfortable in Shalvata’'s pajamas." "I didn’t identify myself, yet he responded immediately: 'Can I call?' I answered 'yes.' We talked that evening, and he visited me the next day. Rabbi Ronski's support underscored the significance of visiting people in these wards. Such visits are like a ray of light and not to be taken for granted.

"Incidentally, the next day I had a conversation with the chief psychiatrist who asked, 'Who knows you are here?' I told him, 'Only my husband.' He then asked, 'Do you want to tell anyone else?' and I painfully replied, 'No one visits psychiatric hospitals, so what does it matter?' But my indifferent responses didn’t move the psychiatrist, who insisted, 'Who would you like to visit you?' Only then did I open up, sharing that we're a close-knit family of six siblings and I’d love it if my siblings came. Once authorized, I informed my siblings, which alleviated me significantly. They came to visit, as did my husband and children."

What did you explain to the children?

"The day I went to the emergency room, the children asked where I was going. I felt Hashem put the right words in my mouth when I answered, 'To a place where people are angry and sad.' I didn’t explain much more, but years later, when I began lecturing on the subject, I shared that experience with them, which they also went through."

Elisheva's hospitalization at Shalvata lasted seven days, during which she was mostly stabilized with medication, quadrupling the low dose she had been on. After the evaluation period, she continued two and a half months of day treatment, five days a week, including therapy groups, personal sessions, doctor tracking, and diverse therapies that helped substantially.

Interestingly, during the hospitalization: "I was very observant of my surroundings and the people with me. There were individuals with schizophrenia, manic depression, or women with postpartum depression, all in varying stages of recovery. I noticed that I attempted, within my capacity, to assist fellow patients by listening, caring, and engaging. Some approached me seeking conversation or thanking me for my attentive ear and interest. I believe that looking outward and helping others with similar distress filled me with a sense of purpose."

(Photo: shutterstock)

Life Goes On

A month after Elisheva's release from hospitalization, she gave birth to her fifth child. "It was a birth where I felt very disconnected," she notes. "Though I was considered in recovery, I hadn’t quite returned to myself. We named the child 'Yarden Miriam,' both names symbolizing water and flow, contrasting the rigidity and lack of flow I experienced during depression. Today, she is nine, a charming, easygoing, and joyful child."

Through the years following, Elisheva had five more children, all while being continually supported by a psychologist and a psychiatrist. "I want to emphasize that there are antidepressants safe for use during pregnancy and lactation, naturally with close professional guidance. Women should be aware of this," she comments.

How does your daily routine look now?

"Very regular and extremely busy. Mentally, I haven’t had further hospitalizations since, but there was once a home hospitalization and a few brief encounters, yet with much awareness. I must note that my husband accompanies me throughout, supports me, and has a deep understanding of the issue, much due to a conversation he had with the psychiatrist in Shalvata’s emergency room, explaining the situation and helping him position himself differently towards the illness, aligning properly.

"Practically, I only returned to work about three years ago, starting at a diagnostic institute, and two years ago, I re-entered my professional path. Additionally, I’ve been lecturing in various places across the country on depression and mental health in general, weaving my personal story into the professional aspect. I explain how one can understand the illness, its prevalence, causes, symptoms, clinical presentation, and the roles of family and community as resilience factors.

"Initially, speaking about the topic wasn’t easy at all," she admits. "I didn’t even share with the close circle, as I felt great shame. But now I understand that not only is it important, but a true duty—to talk and share, as these things can save lives."

Elisheva has some crucial messages: "Firstly, we need to stop fearing stigma," she asserts. "We should learn to look at things as they are, and if something feels exceptional or powerful and beyond our control, not be afraid to seek a professional check—whether it’s a family doctor or psychiatrist. Some extreme conditions require hospitalization. It’s not a bad word. Sometimes it’s a lifeline. Personally, upon entering hospitalization, my first thought was: 'What am I doing here?' but very quickly followed with: 'I have nothing to do outside; this is the most appropriate place for me.'"

"I believe that the patient and their surroundings should be proud of dealing with it and their effort to lift their head. For a long time, my husband had a picture on his phone screen showing me in a natural setting, as I bent down and four children ran toward me. One day I asked him where that photo was from and which park it was. He replied: 'It’s not a park, look closely.' Looking again, I recognized myself in the 'Shalvata' pajamas. My husband said, 'It’s your best picture because you’re managing. And I’m proud of you.'"

Finally, Elisheva has a request of us all: "Try to open your eyes, and as King Solomon said, have a 'listening heart' towards those around you. It’s true that we can’t take responsibility for everyone, but if we recognize distress in someone close to us, it’s so crucial to try and be there for them. Let them feel seen, noticed, and genuinely cared for. I once heard a phrase from Rebbetzin Amira Ran who is both a scholar and a mental health advocate: 'There is a mitzvah to attend a funeral while the deceased is laid to rest. This is a written commandment. But we must also accompany the living.' I believe the intention is to be there for the other, in some way and over time. To give them a sense that we can share the burden, together."