You woke up this morning, everything was completely normal, you got ready and left the house, and while searching for something in your bag—you tripped badly because of a small uneven floor tile that you had long ago said needed fixing. Meanwhile, time passed, the unevenness grew, maybe the recent rains made it worse, and really, who has the time or energy to deal with such hazards?! But now you’ve fallen, taken a hard hit—what’s next?
You have to cancel all your plans for the day, maybe even for several days, you need to check what happened, maybe get an X-ray, see specialists, rest a little—or a lot—and give your body, time, and all necessary means a chance to do their work so you can stand on your feet again.
It’s okay—and advisable—to ask for help, right? At the very least, to call work and say, “I need a break for a few days, this is beyond my control, I’ll be back as soon as I can.” It’s annoying, unpleasant, maybe a bit embarrassing—but understandable, it can happen to anyone. If you’re lucky to have nice coworkers, you’ll probably get some kindness or offers of help, at the very least some empathy… But sometimes things get more complicated.
Alongside working at the clinic with youth, young adults, parents, and novice caregivers—I also work in the mental health ward of a general hospital. Most general hospitals have such a ward, aimed at assisting people dealing with mental difficulties, illnesses, or crises. Just as sometimes physical medical conditions arise that interfere with a person’s ability to function and live normally—sometimes to the degree requiring hospitalization and intensive treatment for a period—so too do similar mental health situations occur for a variety of reasons and causes.
A mental crisis or coping with a complex mental state is something that can happen to any one of us, just like any other medical condition. Only in this case, shame, guilt, and terrible, false stigmas are added, which only worsen the situation and make coping harder on the path to relief and returning to life in any form.
Contrary to common belief (here’s an example of a common, false stigma regarding mental health)—many wards, especially those in general hospitals, are open, meaning hospitalization is done out of personal choice and awareness, through dialogue with the patient and their support networks. One can be discharged at any time (even against staff recommendations), just like any other ward. Sometimes patients even go on leave during hospitalization if it serves their benefit and the treatment goals.
Patients in the mental health ward receive extensive therapeutic care including medical treatment, individual talk therapy, group therapies using various expressive means, assistance with exercising rights and connecting with community treatment providers for support after discharge, and more. Daily treatment strengthens mental health. The schedule is rich and varied, allowing expression in many different ways, and offers tools for ongoing independent coping in daily life.
There is something somewhat insulated about working in the ward. It’s not that reality doesn’t enter or influence, but even when big and meaningful things happen outside, there is a certain constant internal routine that isn’t easily swayed, focused on improving condition, gaining strength and tools for positive change or recovery from a crisis period.
During times when polarization, violence, discrimination, and disputes in Israeli society are expressed more intensely in various ways (and even cynically exploited for interests completely unrelated to health, welfare, and the good of the individual)—I feel this gap, between the inside and outside of the ward, more sharply than ever.
Inside the ward, there are no divisions. No separations. Some sleep alone in their room for the entire hospitalization period, while others share personal space with roommates. Various considerations are taken into account for room assignments, none of which relate to the notes placed in the ballot box or political positions.
The ward is not divided into sub-wards. When there’s group therapy, everyone present is part of the whole, and at other times everyone shares a common living space, along with the medical and therapeutic staff. Everyone knows everyone, eats together, watches TV together, and spends activity and leisure time in shared spaces, in every sense, despite the challenges this sometimes brings.
There is no partiality in the ward, no ostracism, no refusal to participate, no “I won’t sit next to that one” or “I don’t want to be near her.” Everyone is together: women and men, young and old, religious and secular, people of all religions and denominations, extremists and moderates, haters and lovers of people. All sit around the same table, coping together and alone with their sorrow, suffering, crisis, and life’s challenges, both new and old, dealing for the first time or chronically. They cope a little differently each time, learning from experience, trying to remember their personal experience, use it, and sometimes help others see the light through it.
Disputes stay outside the ward doors—they don’t run away, they wait for later. Now there is a different order of the hour: to feel good, lift your head, believe in change. Even when not everything goes smoothly or as expected.
Sometimes a chance encounter manages to change a predetermined or seemingly fixed course. A specific connection shatters old or deeply rooted worldviews and suddenly it becomes clear that a Jew and an Arab can be friends (really good friends!) even though both have personally experienced the costs of disputes and storms caused by those who pretend to be leaders or public representatives and in the name of foreign interests—blatantly abuse their roles. Suddenly, a devout religious woman can connect with a completely secular one; love and connection can overcome enormous gaps in opinions, background, history, tradition, just because they happen in a reality where it’s too hard to be alone and to hold so tightly to what you always thought was right and without alternative. And then suddenly there is—someone who sees you beyond the usual, beyond the dry description, beyond status definitions. Beyond diagnosis or illness. Someone who notices your strengths, your humor, your talent, your beauty. Someone who wants to understand your heart and it suddenly isn’t as complicated as you thought.
Sometimes, at the end of a busy and intense workday, I tell myself: if only it were possible to reverse the order and instead of broadcasting the news and current affairs on the ward’s shared TV as a way to stay connected to reality—maybe sometimes it would be better to broadcast parts of what happens in the ward to everyone outside, giving it a place of truth, reality, moments of human connection and kindness. To remind us all that boundaries are mostly within us; distances between us as people can shrink if we look at what is shared, at the universal goals (many!) worth striving for in life here together. Although it’s becoming very challenging (and sometimes feels almost impossible)—we’re here together, this is everyone’s place.
May we succeed in realizing this understanding also when we’re all well and healthy, not just in times of crisis.
In the picture: “Nothing passes by” (how much I love this song by the wonderful Daniel Rubin), a small embroidered sketchbook—a glimpse of a space I create for myself on stormy days, and also encourage my patients to create for themselves within art therapy groups (and beyond).
