July 2, 2024|כ"ו סיון ה' אלפים תשפ"ד Don't Let Them Suffer in Silence: PTSD and the IDF
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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.