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

Elisheva Raz was a mother of four small children when she found herself hospitalized in the Shalvata Mental Health Center. When she talks about it today, about nine years later, her voice is calm and does not betray for a moment the difficult experiences that led there.

“The truth is that for a long time I felt a lot of shame and did not share with those around me what I went through during the hospitalization,” she says. “Today I have ten children, and even with them, for a certain period, I did not talk about it. Even though I am a psychologist, it took me time to understand how important it is to bring these issues up, to explain them to the children and also to the environment, because people do not realize how common emotional and mental struggle is. There are so many people with mental difficulties who are simply afraid to talk about them. I have to say that after I began speaking about this, I often heard from people who went through similar things how meaningful it is for them that I am giving a voice to their experience.”

Elisheva Raz

Darkness in the middle of life

Elisheva grew up in the Samaria region, as one of seven siblings. At the age of 20, she lost her father, and shortly afterward she went for professional vocational testing to get guidance about a career that would suit her abilities.

“The guidance I received was: ‘You have many abilities, but you need to work with people in a helping profession, and it is best for you to study psychology,’” she recalls. “That really felt right to me. So I completed five years of study. Near the end of my first degree, I got married and we moved to live in Samaria, near my mother, because my husband was a career officer in the army.

“I continued to a master’s degree in rehabilitative neuropsychology, and from there to the start of an internship in a hospital setting. Toward the end of the second year of my internship, I experienced very difficult things at work and felt that I did not belong there at all. At the same time, I had four very young children at home. Eventually I left the internship and returned home, full of negative feelings. I was at the beginning of a pregnancy and we were also starting to build our home in Samaria, which involved major expenses, pressure and endless dealing with details.

“Apparently the combination of the difficult experiences at work, the stress, caring for the children and the pregnancy hormones, including the severe anemia I suffered from, pushed me into a state of depression during pregnancy. My depression was what is called ‘agitated depression’, characterized by inner restlessness, extreme irritability and angry outbursts. Of course the more common symptoms of depression were there too – loss of appetite, sleep disturbance, difficulty concentrating, low self worth, rigid thinking and feelings of guilt. I probably also had an episode of hypomania – a period of elevated mood with excess energy, poor sleep and sometimes roughness in behavior.”

How did this present on the outside?

“People on the outside could not identify the depression, but they did notice signs of irritability, restlessness, and very strong difficulty making decisions, which showed up most clearly in decisions about building the house. I agonized over everything, even over the food I ate. My sleep was very disturbed, I had strange awakenings in the middle of the night and could not fall back asleep.”

And despite all that, you continued your routine?

“Yes. I continued almost normally, and that was the most misleading thing, because people sometimes think that a depressed person lies in bed all day, and that is absolutely not always the case. I actually had high functioning, and I managed the family and even physically took part in building the new house – I made mezuzah cases, bathroom tiles and sinks out of ceramics with my own hands. I was deeply involved, and it may be that precisely because of that, the depression intensified. I did not allow myself to understand the emotional experiences I was going through.

“There was also a change in my physical appearance. Since depression often comes with appetite disturbances, for me it meant barely eating, because I simply did not enjoy food. As a result, I dropped to underweight and became very thin. But what stood out most were the symptoms of restlessness, constant movement and nervousness.

“The only one who really noticed what was happening was a close friend of mine, who is also a psychologist. She encouraged me to seek therapy, which I did – and that was the right decision. That friend also encouraged me to see a psychiatrist, and for a while I took a low dose of antidepressants. In the psychological treatment, during one of the sessions, I told the therapist about thoughts of harming myself, and at that moment she said to me: ‘If those thoughts come back – please call me immediately.’”

(Photo: shutterstock)

A cry from the hospital

One day during the summer vacation, when the new house was almost completely built, Elisheva experienced a severe crisis.

“It happened when there was a lot of chaos around me,” she describes. “I had promised the children that I would take them to the playground, and they started fighting. In response, I felt enormous rage rising inside me. As usual, I turned that aggression inward, against myself. I remember bringing the children back from the park and then sending a very distressed text message to my husband, asking him to pray for me because I was in a very dangerous emotional place. It was a self destructive statement.

“I was very upset, crying, it was hard for me to breathe, I was pacing back and forth, and then, in the middle of the storm, I remembered what the therapist had told me and called her. She answered immediately and said, ‘The moment your husband gets home, you are going to the hospital. Do not try to decide this on your own.’ She understood that I was in no condition to make decisions.”

Looking back on that day, Elisheva says that although the therapist’s words were hard to hear, they clearly saved her life.

“My husband rushed home, and since we did not want to involve anyone else or call an ambulance, I drove myself to a psychiatric hospital. There I met a wonderful psychiatrist, a department head, who received me kindly. But suddenly she turned to me and said, ‘I am really sorry. You cannot stay here, because this hospital serves the 03 area code, and you live in 09.’ As strange as it sounds, that is how things were run in the psychiatric system. She told me I needed to go to the Shalvata hospital, which serves my region.

“Somehow I managed to get back into the car and continue driving, and I arrived at Shalvata exhausted, late at night, and went through the intake process there.

“I was admitted by a psychiatrist who told me that on the first night I would be in a locked room, and that the next day the senior psychiatrists would carry out a risk assessment and then decide which ward would be appropriate for me. Then he sent me to the nurse to get the hospital pajamas, and suddenly I noticed, standing nearby, the former IDF Chief Rabbi, Rabbi Avichai Rontzki, who knew me personally and had even taught me in the past. I did not say a word to him, and he was also silent. I felt like I was in shock, unable to speak to anyone from the depth of the mental pain.

“At that moment a verse suddenly came to my mind: ‘And the children of Israel cried out… and their cry went up to God.’ I once heard an explanation that the word ‘cried out’ there means they did not even have words. Only God can hear that kind of cry. That is exactly how I felt during the hospitalization – that I was learning more than ever that the One who is truly with me is only God Himself.”

Inside the psychiatric ward

That same evening, after being admitted through the emergency department, Elisheva suddenly felt a strong need to reach out to Rabbi Rontzki and sent him a text message: “Sorry I did not say hello. It is awkward being in the Shalvata pajamas.”

“I did not write my name, but he immediately replied: ‘May I call you?’ I said yes. We spoke that same night, and the next day he came to visit me. His support really showed me how important it is to visit people in these wards. Such visits are like a shaft of light and are not to be taken for granted at all.

“The next day I had a conversation with the head psychiatrist who asked me, ‘Who knows that you are here?’ I answered, ‘Only my husband.’ Then he asked, ‘Do you want anyone else to know?’ and I answered in pain, ‘No one visits psychiatric hospitals anyway, so what difference does it make?’ But my seemingly indifferent answers did not impress him, and he continued to ask, ‘Who would you like to have come visit you?’ Only then did I open up and tell him that we are a family of six very close siblings, and that I would be happy if my brothers and sisters could come.

“Once he approved it, I shared what was happening with my siblings, and that helped me a lot. They came to visit me, and my husband and the children also came.”

What did you explain to the children?

“On the day I went to the emergency room, the children asked where I was going. I felt that God put the right words in my mouth when I answered, ‘To a place where people are very angry and very sad.’ I did not explain much more at the time, but years later, when I began giving talks about this subject, I interpreted and explained to them the experience I had gone through – which they had also gone through in their own way.”

Elisheva’s hospitalization in Shalvata lasted seven days, during which her medication was adjusted, and the low dose she had been taking was increased fourfold. After that week she continued for another two and a half months in a day treatment program, five days a week. The program included group therapy, individual sessions, medical follow up and various therapies that helped her greatly.

During the hospitalization, something else also happened: “I was very aware of everything happening around me and of the people with me there – people with schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, or women with postpartum depression, some who were recovering more and some less. I noticed that, according to the strength I had, I tried to help others by asking how they were, listening, talking. Sometimes people approached me and asked to talk, or thanked me for listening with genuine interest. I think that outward focus and the desire to help someone else who was in a struggle similar to mine filled me with a sense of meaning.”

Life goes on

One month after Elisheva was discharged, she gave birth to her fifth child.

“It was a birth in which I felt very emotionally disconnected,” she recalls. “I was considered to be in recovery, but I had not really returned to myself yet. We named her Yarden Miriam – two names that express water and flowing, in contrast to all the rigidity and lack of flow I felt in depression. Today she is nine years old, a wonderful, easygoing girl, full of joy.”

In the years that followed, another five children were born to Elisheva, and throughout she has been under the care of both a psychologist and a psychiatrist.

“It is important for me to emphasize that there are antidepressants that can be taken during pregnancy and breastfeeding, of course with close professional supervision. Women should really be aware of this,” she notes.

What does your everyday life look like today?

“Very normal and extremely busy. Emotionally, I have not been hospitalized again since then, but there was one time when I had home based hospitalization and a few times when I had shorter episodes of difficulty, but with a lot of awareness. I have to say that my husband has been with me throughout. He supports me and has a high level of awareness of mental health, largely thanks to a conversation he had with the psychiatrist in Shalvata’s emergency room, who explained the situation to him and helped him reposition himself in relation to the illness and to respond more accurately.

“In practice, I returned to work only about three years ago, when I began working in a diagnostic clinic. About two years ago I resumed my formal internship track. I also give lectures around the country on depression and mental health in general, weaving my personal story together with the professional side. I explain how we can understand the illness, how common it is, the causes, the symptoms, the clinical picture, and the place of family and community as sources of resilience.

“At first it was not easy at all to talk about it,” she admits. “I did not even share with the people close to me, because I felt so much shame. But now I understand that it is not only important, it is almost an obligation to talk and tell, because these things can literally save lives.”

(Photo: shutterstock)

“We must stop being afraid of the stigma”

“We must stop being afraid of the stigma. We need to learn to look at things as they are. If there is something that feels unusual or overwhelming and beyond our control, we should not be afraid to get checked by a professional – a family doctor or a psychiatrist. There are extreme situations in which a person also needs to be hospitalized. That is not a dirty word. Sometimes it is a lifeline."

“Personally, when I entered the hospital, my first thought was: ‘What am I doing here?’ But very quickly the next thought came: ‘I have nowhere else to be. This is exactly the right place for me now.’

“I believe that someone who is ill, and the people around them, should feel proud of their struggle, proud that they are making an effort to lift their head up. For a long time, my husband had a picture on his phone wallpaper that showed me in a nature area, bent over while our four children run toward me. One day I asked him where this picture was from, and in which park we had been. He told me, ‘It’s not a park, look again.’ And when I looked more carefully, I recognized myself wearing the Shalvata pajamas. My husband said, ‘This is your most beautiful picture, because you are fighting and coping. And I am proud of you.’”

In conclusion, Elisheva has a request for all of us: “Try to open your eyes and, as King Solomon says, cultivate ‘a listening heart’ toward the people around you. True, we cannot take responsibility for the whole world. But if we notice that someone around us is in distress, it is so important to try to be there for them. To let them feel that someone sees them, notices them, cares about them genuinely.

“I once heard a sentence from Rabbanit Amira Raanan, a Torah scholar who is also a mental health survivor. She said: ‘There is a mitzvah to accompany the dead. It is a Torah commandment. But we are also obligated to accompany the living.’

“I think the meaning is to be there for another person, in some way and over time. To give them the sense that we are willing to share the burden together.”