Blog2024-01-20T02:09:07+00:00

Slowly Digging Out of Depression’s Darkness

I am running, running, on the racetrack, trying to get to the finish line so I can finally sit down with my feet up, to enjoy the satisfied pleasure of accomplishment. My feet ache, the sun’s rays are burning, and a headache is forming and gaining strength. I wish that my path wasn’t so long—and that the weather be cooler, that I would be stronger, that the headache would wait until I could sink into oblivion on my cozy bed.

March 6th, 2024|

Postpartum Depression

It was as if I were being buried alive, sinking in quicksand, unable to find my way out. That's how I felt after the birth of my sixth child. I was irritable; I cried; I was exhausted, yet had trouble sleeping. Getting through each day seemed nearly impossible. My own children avoided me; my husband tiptoed around me. I was convinced that my family and the world would be better off without me.

January 10th, 2022|

Being Grounded

Once or twice a week I work for a very special organization called NITZA, The Israel Center for Maternal Health. Located in Jerusalem, it provides psychological, physical and emotional support for women with postpartum depression. While I have observed that there are similarities between the women who come to NITZA, there are no concrete rules. A first-time mother is just as likely to come to the clinic as a woman who gave birth to her sixth child.

January 10th, 2022|

Coming to Grips with My Anxiety Disorder

I suffer from an anxiety disorder which includes bouts of clinical depression. Although this illness is usually hushed up and kept secret, one in ten people suffer right along with me, each in their self-imposed silence. I share my story with the hope of educating others to understand the dynamics of emotional illness and what it’s like to be caught in its tight grip. Perhaps as a result of my words greater sensitivity and compassion will prevail and others will react to a sufferer’s pain accordingly.

January 4th, 2021|

Just Nerves?

"Who told you to stop taking your meds, Moish?" His name was Yekusiel Shemaya Tuvia Moshe Wein. “But you can call me Moish,” he said, with an air of someone who’s been through it enough times that he reflexively explained, “I’m named for a few different elter zeides, and I was also born on Zayin Adar, so my father shlita thought it was a good name. But like I said, just call me Moish.”

January 4th, 2021|

The Sun Will Yet Shine

How could I wait while the world moved on and I was a ghost of myself — not a mother, not a daughter, not a wife? You know me. That woman in the grocery. The one with the freshly washed wig, crossbody, and trendy sunglasses. Super capable, a great multitasker. I was all of those things. Until I wasn’t. This is my story.

November 25th, 2020|
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