Being a psychologist whose profession is to support others, I, like so many therapists, froze with fear after the October 7th massacre in Israel. Overwhelmed by horror at the suffering of those who were brutally murdered and those taken hostage, I remember that right after the holiday of Simhat Torah I doubted whether I would have the strength to return to work. How would I be able to listen to my clients when my brain felt so flooded and focused elsewhere? I was worried that the tears would start flowing during a session. I didn’t know how I could appear ok when I wasn’t. Would my non-Jewish clients say anything to me about Israel? Should I check in with my Jewish clients and ask how they were holding up, or wait for them to bring the subject up? Would my Jewish clients even mention the war?
After speaking with many Jewish therapists during those first few weeks of the war, I realized that we were all struggling together, trying to grapple with what it meant to be a professional when the world outside the therapy space seemed to be falling apart. Tools of mindfulness and reframing, which I so often use with my own clients, didn’t seem sufficient, but I tried. My days were filled with calling friends and family in Israel, seeing clients, figuring out which organizations I wanted to donate to, saying tehillim (psalms), signing up on multiple sites to give mental health support to both therapists and English-speaking Israelis, and just trying my best to focus on what I was able to control. I struggled daily with feeling that I wasn’t doing enough and wishing I were in Israel.
About a week after the war began, I was on my way to a shiva visit when I received a call from a rabbi at one of the local colleges. A therapist was supposed to facilitate support groups for the students, but had just canceled. He wanted to know if I could be there in an hour to run the group. Without hesitating, I said, “Of course. I will be there as soon as I can.” After I left the shiva house, I jumped in my car not knowing what I expected to be doing once I got there. When I arrived, I entered a room with about 30 college students, all really struggling to function. I sat and listened to them for about an hour and a half. Many shared feeling unsafe as Jews on campus with the increase in antisemitism. Some had the white boards outside their dorm rooms filled with the words “From the River to the Sea.” Graffiti calling for another Holocaust were found on campus walls. Some students were confused about who their friends were. Others were worried when they saw their professors at anti-Israel protests. Many were worried about friends their own age who were in Gaza, and others felt guilty that they were not in Israel or in the army. Many felt the pressure of social media, believing that it was their duty to use those platforms to support Israel.
I have also learned that it’s ok for a therapist to tear up in a therapy session.
When I left campus that night, I realized the unique emotional experience of being a college student in the United States during this war and the myriad of emotions these students were navigating. I immediately contacted one of my colleagues and asked her if she wanted to co-run virtual groups for college students with me. I felt that it was meant to be when I was called by the rabbi that night and felt driven to find ways to support Jewish students on campus. I spent the next few days contacting rabbis, Hillel directors, and college students and posting in many Facebook groups about the support groups I was running.
Meaningful Support Groups
These support groups have been very meaningful to me and felt like my own small way of giving during these painful times. Some of the students who joined our Zoom meetings were from colleges with large Jewish populations who felt empowered by the way their communities responded, while others were from smaller campuses and felt alone, with very little support. Students had a space to share their fears and anxieties about the war, as well as to talk about what steps they were taking to stand up against antisemitism on their campuses. I was inspired every week by the strength of these young adults who were navigating their academic responsibilities and their social lives, some living away from home for the first time, all while also trying to process the atrocities that began on October 7th.
I have learned so many lessons these past few months as a clinician, but one of the most important has been to be able to give myself space for my own humanness and my own emotions. Like all therapists who hold space for others, I am generally able to be fully present for clients in their pain and in their struggles. And at times when I may be triggered, I am appropriately able to check in with myself and seek consultation so that I remain an objective presence for my clients. With the devastation of October 7th, however, it’s been much more difficult. I have had to take many more deep breaths and take time to process after sessions, both with my clients and my college support groups. And while I still think I generally do a good job at keeping very strong boundaries, I have also learned that it’s ok for a therapist to tear up in a therapy session. That doesn’t make me unprofessional. It makes me human.