"Why I Chose to Be Admitted to a Psychiatric Hospital"

Reishit Hirschfeld, a mother of three sweet children, happily married to a devoted husband, resides in a southern Israeli settlement called Neveh in the Shalom region. Outwardly, they seem like a perfectly standard family. Nothing betrays the mental health struggles they have endured over recent years.

But it's precisely because of this "normalcy" that Reishit feels it's essential to share her story. Behind the calm facade hides a challenging life journey during which Reishit grappled with deep depression that cast a heavy shadow over her life. The fact that she managed to overcome it, rise, and grow past the difficulties is nothing short of inspiring and can offer strength and hope to others.

Crying Out for Help

Reishit first encountered depression shortly after her marriage, before they had children. "We experienced a challenging period that led me to question my faith," she recalls. "My husband suggested I meet with one of his rabbis, and during a two-hour session, I voiced my troubling questions. Understanding the depth of my struggles, he advised me, 'Reishit, you don't have issues with faith, you just need an appointment with a psychiatrist.'

"Hearing this suggestion for the first time angered me greatly. 'Why a psychiatrist?' I thought. After all, my father is a well-known psychologist, and I studied psychology myself at the university, specializing in couple counseling. I'm no stranger to the field, and I'm convinced I don't need a psychiatrist. So what if I have life questions and challenges?'

"It took time for my husband to gently yet firmly convince me that this was precisely what I needed, leading me to a psychiatrist who diagnosed depression but was unfazed. He reassured me: 'It happens to many people during their lifetime, and there are treatments. Don't worry; it will pass.' He recommended medication, which I initially didn't take since I felt better after a while. Three months later, I became pregnant, opening a new chapter in our lives. When we became parents to our firstborn son, we named him Tom Yedidya, and I felt true happiness."

When Tom Yedidya was a year old, Reishit became pregnant again, soon discovering it was with twins. "Our joy was indescribable," she describes. "Despite being a difficult pregnancy, we eagerly and excitedly awaited the arrival of our precious twins—a boy and a girl."

Reishit remembers the post-delivery period as extremely challenging and intense. "I raised our three children at home 24/7 with genuine joy and pleasure. I dashed around the settlement pushing two strollers—a twin stroller and a regular one, feeling grateful yet in awe of myself. This was pure bliss."

Nothing prepared Reishit for the reality that this immense joy was about to change. "A combination of several challenges, including health issues, led to a slightly pressed feeling in life," she explains. "Additionally, during that time, my mother-in-law was hospitalized in grave condition, and my husband was often absent as he took turns with his siblings to stay with her part of the week.

"Day after day, this repeated, and meanwhile, additional challenges negatively impacted me. I felt overwhelmed, struggling to manage the household while my husband was away and I was alone with three little ones. I reached a point where I told my husband we had to stop his visits to his mother, as I couldn't manage without his help and felt suffocated.

"My husband understood me but also explained: 'This is my mom, and I don't know how much time we have left with her.' I insisted: 'We must stop; I feel depressed,' but ultimately, he had no choice, and the next day, he left for the hospital in Jerusalem, leaving me alone with the kids."

That day is etched in Reishit's memory: "I awoke with three toddlers clamoring for my attention, hungry, and needing diaper changes, yet had no energy to get up and care for them. I whispered to them: 'Go to the kitchen, get food, do whatever you want.'

"At the time, the twins were barely two, and the eldest was four. They all required close attention, but I felt that if I stayed with them even a moment longer, I might endanger them. At that moment, I stopped everything, locked myself in the bedroom, threw myself on the bed, and messaged my husband: 'I'm in bed, can't get up. Don’t know for how long. Assume responsibility.'"

The Diagnosis: Major Depression

Looking back, Reishit notes she truly didn't know what her husband would do in such a situation, especially since he was a two-and-a-half-hour drive away, with no possibility of returning to take charge of the home. "I heard the kids crying outside the door, but I felt apathetic, as if nothing mattered or interested me," she describes. "After some time, silence took over. My husband had asked my mother to take them, but that didn't ease my burden. The depression was so severe I couldn't get out of bed, lying there for hours with no motivation to live or take responsibility.

"My spirit was broken, but my mind worked reasonably well, allowing me in moments of reprieve to write a list of survival rules for myself moving forward. First and foremost, I pledged: 'I will never blame myself.' The second rule: 'I will seek help without shame.'

"That evening, I applied the second rule for the first time by visiting my mother and confiding in her with total transparency about what had happened. Though terrified, I explained: 'I know I'm depressed, and we will do everything possible to get a diagnosis and treatment. I cannot care for the children right now, so I ask for them to stay with you, that you be their mom.' From that day on, the three of them lived with my parents.

"Another decision I made was that if ever I felt I couldn't cope with the situation, I would simply crawl under my blanket and tell myself: 'I'm paralyzed now; I can't move at all.'"

How did you have such high awareness?

"It's true; I understood I needed to create a safety net because it would take time before I received treatment. Meanwhile, my primary mission was not to let this temporary situation become 'permanent' and to fill the time as much as possible to avoid sinking into depressing, tormenting thoughts."

Why didn't you go to psychiatric emergency care?

"Because it's not so simple. I'd heard from various sources that it's a bad option, and I didn't dare take that step. Of course, I wanted to see a private psychiatrist, but nowhere in the country could I find a professional available within less than a month and a half."

Thus, several weeks passed for Reishit, dedicated mainly to "killing time." "I did everything to reduce my participation in life to zero until I found a solution," she notes. "During that time, I turned to anyone who might help me—welfare, the community coordinator, and of course, I relied heavily on my amazing mom. Occasionally, when I managed to lift my head above water, I met with the kids briefly, told them a short story, then disappeared again. Back to bed, into the black hole engulfing me. My husband also tried to give the children everything he could during that time, yet with his mother's dire condition, he was rarely home. For him, it was an extremely challenging situation from every possible angle.

Finally, I met a psychiatrist who instantly confirmed it was major depression, prescribed medications, and explained they should kick in within two weeks. I breathed a sigh of relief, convinced I just had to hold on for two more weeks and it would all be over."

On the Road to Recovery

One might think medication would solve everything, but it turned out to be just the beginning. "During those two weeks, symptoms not only persisted, but I continued to sink further," recounts Reishit. "When I reported this to the psychiatrist, he calmly suggested increasing the dosage or waiting up to six weeks, but I was in survival mode and felt I couldn't go on like this. With my last strength, I endured that six-week period, finally deciding I wasn't going to help myself anymore—I opted for hospitalization."

Weren't you scared?

"I was terrified, but I realized I needed it. I also knew I had a responsibility to my home and children. So, late one night, my husband and I headed to the psychiatric ER at Barzilai Hospital."

Reishit recalls the moment of her hospitalization, with her husband left outside the ward, and she lay in hospital clothes, realizing just how deep the crisis was. "I didn't know how I'd make it through the night, angry at myself for ending up here. I cried endlessly. Thankfully, hospitals have solutions for such states, providing sedatives to help me sleep soundly."

Her first morning in the ward was difficult, but as days passed, Reishit began to understand how to integrate into the ward, connect with other patients, and reassure herself that this fortress was there to protect her on her path toward light. "I made a firm decision to take everything I could learn from here to heal and return home empowered to live and raise my children," she explains.

"This decision also affected my outward appearance; I decided to get dressed and apply makeup every morning, simply to look good. Seeing my solitude not as loneliness but as an opportunity for personal time, a quiet retreat, without fear of falling apart since I was secure and safe."

A week after her hospitalization, Reishit's mother-in-law passed away, granting her special leave to attend the funeral. She returned to the hospital afterward and was released a week later when her husband completed the mourning period.

"Discharge from a psychiatric hospital doesn’t mean you're healed," Reishit clarifies, "as it's an ongoing process. Initially, I needed to attend daily hospitalization, and it took a long period before my strength returned. However, my husband was always at my side, supporting me extraordinarily, and even I knew I was doing everything possible to lift myself from the pit and help myself rejoice, believe me, that was no small feat.

"One major aid in that period was the decision not to go to sleep before writing a list of 20 good things I should be thankful for. It wasn't difficult, and in reality, if the paper weren’t limited, I could have listed countless things, because even in the worst moments, I always had something to thank Hashem for."

Let There Be Light

Shortly after being discharged, Simchat Torah arrived, and as residents of the southern settlement, Reishit and her family found themselves evacuated due to the outbreak of war. "Once again, our home was unsettled," she notes, "yet we also gained additional insights. Since Simchat Torah of 5784, I feel I'm no longer fighting alone, as all of Israel collectively experiences the abyss of sorrow, comprehending the depths of anguish. Yet, we also thank Hashem for the journey through the broken-hearted paths we all traverse.

"I'm convinced that reality demands we learn to ascend to a level of faith, connection, and strength, precisely because our hearts are so broken, on the path to the great light of redemption. It's our duty to delve deeply into this issue, recognizing the blessing and building the light potential within the soul from the very fractures."

These insights led Reishit to decide to write a book documenting her process, intending to empower others in similar situations or facing different trials. "

"I began writing the book 'Let There Be Light' during the most challenging periods and continued through the evacuation days," she says. "In those times, I didn't have a psychologist, so I felt writing was my way to be my own psychologist. I sat for hours on end, understanding that my plunge into this black pit served a purpose—to discover how I could shine and empower others. Hashem makes no mistakes, so my journey into this world of challenges surely had a purpose.

"Now, I feel I'm in a place of fulfillment, part of which included creating a musical piece with a special song I wrote during my journey. As a singer, I perform it for women, with immense hope of truly touching their hearts and lighting their paths."