A Mother's Story: The Heart-Wrenching Journey Through Her Daughter's Depression

Three years ago, it was just another ordinary day when Tzofia Lex, an actress and theater creator, received a text from her 22-year-old daughter, Uriya. "She wrote that she wouldn’t be available for a while, explaining she was going through some process on her own and needed some quiet time without anyone around. 'Everything is fine,' she added, to prevent us from worrying." Of course, they worried, staying up all night, but they understood it might be best to wait patiently. A week later, Uriya's voice was on the phone. "Uriya told us she was hospitalized in a closed ward at the Mazor Mental Health Center in Akko and asked us to come get her out." Uriya's depression was laid bare. "It felt like the sky was falling," Tzofia recalls.

For two unbearable years, they did everything they could for her. Her condition had its ups and downs but never reached stability. Until the dreadful moment when Uriya ended her life. On the second night of Chanukah this year, her light went out. Already then, her mother realized she was going to break the silence surrounding this issue. "It's time to raise awareness about the world of those struggling with mental health," she says.

Everything Falls Apart

Tzofia clearly remembers the day it all began. "It was a complete surprise," she recalls. "Uriya was working at Horasha School in Akko, catering to children with communication and autism disorders. The children would tug at her hands, drool on her, and she would cover them with love. She loved it there, she was enamored with the children, and we couldn’t have imagined what was going on inside her. Later, she told me, 'You thought you were a good actress? Look at me - I was depressed for so long and managed to hide it from you.'"

Those first moments of discovery were unbearably painful. "My whole body ached, my heart ached, my soul ached. I felt a frantic anxiety and a great deal of confusion, a feeling that everything was falling apart. There was also a fear of losing my child, and the waves of guilt were immense. How did I not see it? How did I not know? What did I do wrong?"

How do you think Uriya reached this point?

"I still don't have a clear answer. Her adolescence was quite typical. There was stubbornness, rebellion, and difficulty with the educational framework, but socially, she was very involved. We didn’t see any signs then, and even if there were, we couldn't have picked up on them. Who even thinks in the direction of such an illness? It's also possible she went through trauma we’re unaware of, or experiences that, while not particularly severe, were perceived as much harder due to her sensitive nature. Some people have sensitive sensors, so everything happening around them registers at a very high volume. They don’t always have the resilience to handle it. Maybe that was also her story."

At this point, Uriya’s parents began living between Ofra and Akko. "After a while, we drove there with our eyes closed. It was a two-and-a-half-year journey of getting to know and dealing with depression," Tzofia recalls with sorrow. "We mustered all the mental and physical strength for this battle to be there for her. We tried to provide as accurate a response as possible. At the hospital, they tried to lead Uriya to a state of balance, but it succeeded only for short periods. It’s important to note that was her individual case. Some people with depression manage to return to their routine lives."

Life during that time swayed like a ship on the open sea. "There is a severe internal struggle, and once someone falls into anxiety and that black hole, it's very difficult to escape. In some way, a person gains something from this escape, and the hole they are in constantly envelops them and tells them they should stay there. Additionally, this illness has side effects. A person kicks at those around them and doesn’t want contact, they feel the world doesn’t understand them, and they don’t understand the world. This can lead to situations where sometimes families leave the patients alone, feeling rejected. It requires very strong tools to get out of this, and significant outside help. Currently, most help is medicinal, and it's not enough. The medicines create a sort of numbness, offering the patient a rest from the internal tear and helping them renew their strength, but alongside, it's crucial to strengthen the mental resilience, and there's much to progress in that area."

In addition to the daily struggle, Uriya had a difficult request. "She wouldn’t allow us to talk about it with others," Tzofia sighs. "We respected her wish, but there was a lot of loneliness, precisely when we needed support so much. The energy directed at keeping the secret depleted our strength. People would ask me, 'So what does your eldest daughter do?' and I would say, 'She's in the north.' If it were up to me, I would have told."

What about the feelings of guilt?

"I quickly realized they wouldn’t lead anywhere. So, I worked on separating my story from hers. It might sound a bit strange, but she had her path, her way of perceiving the world, and her ability to deal with trauma and crises. Every person is built differently; some withstand challenges with internal resilience, while others have less capability. Besides, Uriya herself had told us it wouldn’t help if we had known. She wasn't willing to get treatment back then."

What was it like for the other children at home during this time?

"My amazing mother accompanied and helped us along the way, the older children were with the younger ones, and wherever we could introduce helping hands, we did. But it wasn’t easy for them. The anxiety for Uriya’s wellbeing was present in everyone. The coping with loss began from her first hospitalization. We talked about what was happening, and yet the fear of what might happen was very much present. The period when we had to keep it a secret didn’t make it easier for anyone."

Like Cancer

About a year and a half after her hospitalization, it seemed like Uriya’s condition improved, and she went on a vacation to her apartment. However, that was when her first suicide attempt occurred. "It was very misleading, because since her first hospitalization, Uriya had been very open with us, and it seemed like she was on the right track. She was in a coma for four days and ultimately managed to come back to life. During those days, we understood that we had no control, neither over the illness nor the way to cope with it. It wasn’t in our hands, not even in the doctors’ hands, and to some extent, not even in hers. She was deep in depression without the ability to govern herself."

Did she want to get out of depression?

"She very much wanted to, and she even had plans for the future. Later on, she moved to a rehabilitation village, which represents an advanced stage in healing. Residents there go out to work in various fields in the morning, and in the afternoon, they enjoy different activities. Additionally, they receive treatments and broad support. However, she then started experiencing severe epileptic seizures several times a day, which pulled her back down. We went through a long and exhausting round of tests, and the doctors pointed out that during the seizures, her body functioned normally, without any unusual brain activity. This indicated that the seizures were not neurological but psychiatric. This was a severe deterioration in her condition."

Following that attempt, extended family members and close friends were informed. Uriya's circle of visitors widened, along with a big embrace from her surroundings. Uriya continued to convey that she was fighting for her life, but it seemed she couldn’t find the strength to escape her state. "She once told me when she's in that black hole, she sees no one," says Tzofia. "That’s likely where she was when she hurt herself."

A Heavenly Path

Uriya's light extinguished in an instant. "I can’t even go back to those moments; it’s truly traumatic," says Tzofia.

What did you say to yourself after it happened?

"Inside me are several voices. There’s a voice that doesn’t accept or agree because it’s not a solution, it didn’t help her and certainly didn’t help the family. She went down a very bad one-way path for everyone. But there’s also a side that’s not quick to judge. I wasn’t there, in that so painful place, and I don’t have the ability to know what suffering she went through. Additionally, as her mother, I feel it's my duty to embrace her even after she's gone and not speak ill of her. Uriya fought like a lioness; her soul was torn. It’s like cancer, only it eats away at the soul."

Since then, Tzofia sees different layers in her personal struggle. "There is the layer of daily coping, it's hard, for example, to get up in the morning. Sometimes out of the blur, I tell myself, 'I have nothing today, I can go visit Uriya,' and then the awareness seeps in and the recognition strikes with pain. Most days are good, but mental strength is always required; it’s no longer taken for granted. The fight is daily, and sometimes there's not enough air to breathe."

"Another layer is denial-acceptance-awareness," Tzofia continues. "Sometimes I run away from it, sometimes I let it be. There is a constant dialogue with Uriya there. More of a monologue really. I talk to her about what was, trying to come to terms with it. And there is also the practical layer, which says that life is reality, and it’s worth taking advantage of it. There are children here who need strength, and I also need strength to manage all the systems. In this layer, I act, progress, live, support the children through all the crisis."

Above all, there is the ‘umbrella,’ as Tzofia calls it. "It’s the power from above that pervades all the layers," she says. "Hashem brings us through, only He knows why, and He accompanied and continues to accompany us throughout this path. We lean on Him. There are complex realities in the world, and everyone goes through their path. This is our path, and we seek to build the forces of life and joy within us. We try to accept the divine will, even if sometimes we want to throw it down the stairs, stomp our feet, and say 'we don’t want.' We were chosen for this child to pass through us and for her to go through this mental challenge. This is Hashem’s will, and from this, we grow. I don’t pretend to know what is good in this whole story; this knowledge is above us. During her life, Uriya already gave us excellent training, and we understood that it’s simpler to let go of the need to understand. I couldn’t correct the reality that was, I can’t bring Uriya back. This is what Hashem wanted, and with that, I go on."

A Hug After Death

Amid the great pain, during the shiva for Uriya, it was clear to Tzofia what the next step was. "It was essential for us to do something to elevate her soul, to embrace her even when she is no longer here. About 4 years ago, on my 40th birthday, I organized a special project called ‘For You.’ It was an evening of fun and pampering for women with chronic or sometimes invisible conditions, not given much attention. Hundreds of women came to the evening, enjoying a variety of shows, cosmetic treatments, styling, and more. The goal was to give space to their struggles and create a support circle. Since then, it’s happened every year on Chanukah. This year, the execution was delayed to the month of Tevet, without us understanding why at the time."

Looking back, the family understood very well the reason for the delay. "The evening occurred 3 days after the shiva ended," Tzofia says. "The day after the funeral, we sat with the kids and told them that in most families, when someone passes, they think about how to commemorate them, but for us, Hashem already brought the commemoration opportunity. Everyone agreed that ‘For You’ would now be in memory of Uriya; they knew how much she loved the project. Uriya wanted to make 100 necklaces for women for the event this year, which didn’t happen because of her condition. By the way, depression is also a chronic illness. Thus, the entire contribution from this special evening was made to elevate her soul. Since then, ‘branches’ of support evenings have popped up in other places – Akko, Petah Tikva, Rechavam, and this summer, it will happen also in the Golan Heights and Eilat. The special giving in her memory is spreading across the country."

But that's not the end, and Tzofia, accustomed to being on stage, has launched a lecture series on the topic. "I decided to share our personal story to raise awareness about the illness," she says. "Quite a few families are busy hiding a secret and lying about it, sometimes even to their children. Expending energy on a lie is so exhausting, and I would like people to embrace this illness just as they embrace cancer. There should be more organizations that help, more places that assist those who are there. That embrace has a lot of power to help cope. I would also like the healthcare system to make a change. Today, when scheduling an appointment with a psychiatrist, you have to wait 7 months; it’s not logical."

Won’t talking about it expand the issue?

"Currently, those coming to my talks are people who have already touched on the subject. In addition, I talk only about the depression, not its painful outcome. The number of people coming after a talk, sharing – my sister, my mother, my son – it’s just crazy. We’re not just talking about patients who have reached closed institutions, but also about those struggling at home. Often, parents come recognizing their child is in distress, wanting to know how to cope. It's important for them to identify what's going on with their child and understand how to get help. Awareness about this issue is low, and the fear surrounding it is great. On my part, I emphasize every time that this is my personal story – from my eyes. However, I share common yet personal symptoms. For example, the phenomenon of mental health patients cutting off from their parents – this is so challenging, and it’s crucial for parents to know they haven’t done anything wrong. The patients distance themselves because they struggle even with themselves, and there’s no room for guilt."

Another point Tzofia wants to uproot is regarding the perception of the patients themselves. "I often encounter the terrible view that someone tries to manipulate by claiming they are depressed. It’s appalling. They’re in distress, and people say, 'You’re faking it.' Maybe they do derive some benefit there, but even this benefit signals distress."

"There’s a cry, a mental call from those struggling," she continues. "They shout for help through the illness. Today’s world is so exposed, children hear about the world’s troubles at a young age. There’s no safe space like there used to be, and it affects the soul. So, there’s a call amidst coarseness, aggression, harshness. A cry for compassion, a request to lower the volume, to hug more and engage less in battles and wars. Today’s attack radius is very wide. Energetically, people are on edge, and it has repercussions. Something in the world needs to move towards a more humane place. I feel it’s part of a repair the world needs to progress towards, only that this repair passes through great depths."