09 Jul LIVING LIFE ONE STEP AT A TIME

Visits to Israel used to be
highlighted by sitting at
the Kotel, going on
tiyulim up north, shopping
in the shuk, and eating
shwarma throughout the
country. For my past five
visits since Simchas
Torah, however, they have included something
I had never done before: spending time at Tel
HaShomer hospital visiting injured soldiers.
Each time, we came to give chizuk, the bring
good and positive energy, gifts, love, support,
and boundless gratitude. Each time we left
having in fact received the chizuk, in awe of
young men missing limbs, battling wounds,
forming what will be everlasting scars.
On my trip to Israel this week I visited Tel
HaShomer again, but this time to a unit I
hadn’t been to previously and to visit soldiers
with injuries that while certainly severe, are
altogether different from what I had previously
seen. Indeed, they are not visible at all.
In addition to IDF soldiers in my family and
our community, I have developed a
relationship with several heroic soldiers over
our visits the last nine months. A reservist
who was full of life, energy, love, tenacity and
faith when I met him, someone I have sung
and danced with on his base, called me to say

he is suffering and struggling. For the last
couple of months, he has been crying and
sobbing uncontrollably, having panic attacks,
and feels filled with uncharacteristic anger and
rage. He hasn’t slept or eaten properly. He is
struggling at work and in his personal life. At
the bris of his son, as he held the baby, he was
suddenly transported back to his duties at the
very beginning of the war and was shaken by
the feeling that he was holding a dead body
rather than his living newborn son.
I visited him at Tel HaShomer where he had
been admitted to the psychiatric ward with a
diagnosis of PTSD. Once known as Shell
Shock, Soldier’s Heart or Battle Fatigue, the
condition we now know as Post-Traumatic
Stress Disorder (PTSD) affects countless
veterans of war. When I saw him, he was a
shell of himself, a shadow of the person I first
met. He was in pain from his condition, but he
was also suffering from deep shame and
embarrassment. He hadn’t shared with others,
including those with whom he is very close,
where he was or why. The unit he is in is filled
with soldiers suffering with PTSD, most of
whom battle it with shame and embarrassment.
Many have turned to alcohol or drugs to numb
them from the pain and emptiness. PTSD
impacts not only the one diagnosed with it but
their spouse, children, and entire family.
I asked him, if you God forbid had an injury

to a limb or organ, if in this war you
were shot, or physically wounded,
would you keep it to yourself? Would
there be any shame or disgrace
associated with your hospitalization
or recovery? You would be a gibor, a
hero of our people, deserving of
endless support and boundless
gratitude.
Why should it be any different just
because your wounds are invisible to
the naked eye? They are no more your
fault, no more a source of shame, no
less deserving of love, support, care,
and recognition. Don’t feel obligated to share
or tell others, I told him, but if you would
benefit from love and support and the only
reason you are keeping it to yourself is fear of
stigma, I beg you to reconsider. He told me
that unfortunately, it is simply not the way
others see it for now and so he feels has no
choice but to do it this way.
I called his wife, whom we have come to
know as well. She is home caring for their
young children by herself. I begged, let me
arrange with your community to provide
meals, to help with childcare, to be a source of
support during his recovery from an injury
sustained while fighting in the Jewish people’s
war. Isn’t that exactly what we would do if a
heroic soldier was physically injured,
recuperating in the hospital and the family
needed help? She appreciated the concern
but said that sadly, that isn’t the way others
see it and so she has no choice but to deal
with this privately.
My heart broke not only from what they are
going through in dealing with his trauma,
injury, and wounds but how their pain and
agony is compounded by the loneliness with
which they are experiencing it.
My young friends are far from alone. In
the two months following October 7, an
alarming 8,000 soldiers reported
experiencing trauma. Recently, researchers
from the Hebrew University of Jerusalem,
Columbia University, Shalvata Mental
Health Center in Hod Hasharon, and the
Effective Altruism organization, published a
study that predicts that 520,000 — or 5.3
percent of the Israeli population — could
develop PTSD as a result of October 7 and
Israel’s ongoing war.
Prof. Yair Bar-Haim, head of the National
Center for Traumatic Stress and Resilience
at Tel Aviv University, believes a more
realistic number is 30,000 new cases of
PTSD among Israelis as a result of the
October 7 terror attacks and the war.
Historically, Israeli soldiers have much
lower rates of PTSD than other countries.
According to the U.S. Department of
Veterans Affairs, 30 percent of Vietnam
veterans have had PTSD at some point in
their lifetime. As much as 20 percent of
veterans who served in Operations Iraqi
Freedom or Enduring Freedom have PTSD.

A variety of reasons have been suggested such
as Israel having a civilian army, the whole
country being exposed to terror, the visibility
of soldiers in society regularly, and more.
Whatever the true number of PTSD cases in
Israel as a result of October 7 and the war, it is
startling and is going to need tremendous
treatment and support. The Jewish community
responded swiftly and generously to help our
heroic soldiers with equipment and supplies
when the war began. But what will be needed
next can’t get packed in a duffle bag and
doesn’t get served at a barbecue.
In Israel and abroad we must recognize that
invisible injuries are just as real as physical
ones. We must work to eliminate the stigma
of mental and emotional illness and to create a
culture and condition in which there is no
shame or embarrassment and in which the
community responds with love and support.
My friend in Tel HaShomer shared with me:
“A person like me suffering from PTSD
doesn’t want people to look at them and treat
them with pity and doesn’t want them asking
all the time how I am and why I look upset or
why I am not smiling. Just understand that
they are going through a hard time and be
there if they need.”
Paid leave must be granted from work for
those recovering from PTSD or mental illness,
just as they would for those physically injured.
Meals, childcare, financial help must be given
for those with invisible wounds, just like they
would for the family of a physically wounded
soldier. Massive contributions must be
collected to provide treatment and support for
those recovering from PTSD. The names of
soldiers and civilians struggling with PTSD or
mental illness should without shame or stigma
be included on Tehillim lists and added to
MiShebeirachs. And people must be sensitive
to this very real condition, and not minimize it
by using the term to describe what it feels like
when they were stuck in traffic or when
Starbucks messed up their order.
As Israel is still fighting the longest war in its
history, the risk of fatigue setting in is real and
concerning. When it comes to the mental
health and wellness of our soldiers and
brothers and sisters, we may just be at the
beginning. May my dear friend whom I truly
love, together with all those needing physical,
mental and emotional refuah shleimas, have a
speedy, painless and complete recovery.