Many people have heard me say that I was the last person who would write a memoir. That is because from a young age I learned to lock up my emotions, many memories, and anything uncomfortable. I had friends but kept them at a distance and rarely opened to people. That included my wife.

My lockdown project turned out to be a “memoir”. I loved doing research on my family’s history and every new revelation was exciting. But the writing was far less inspired. About a year into the project, I shared an early draft with a writing friend. She found the historical material interesting but pointed out that a memoir needs to include the perspective of the author. I began the first of many rewrites. At this point another writer connected me with their publisher. He reached out to me after reading my manuscript. We had a telephone conversation in which he asked me whether this was supposed to be a memoir or biography. Ouch.

I was crushed but not deterred. I slowly began to reach inside of me to express how my childhood and my relationships impacted on me. To do so meant breaking down the walls that kept my feeling sealed tight. As feelings came to the surface, so did negative memories and trauma. My manuscript went through a significant transformation and my mental health took a huge beating.

The manuscript was good enough to be accepted by a literary agency. But I continued to struggle. I was having nightmares, anxiety attacks and grief. I couldn’t see myself standing in front people talking about the book and at time I regretted writing the memoir. I finally decided I needed to seek help.

I was 69 years old and receiving therapy for first time. Did I understand how therapy worked? No. I spent several sessions talking about my parents and their experiences while my therapist sat and listened. She finally asked when I was going to talk about myself. The words of the publisher from 2 years before rang in my head. I really hated talking about myself which one of the things that’s landed me in therapy. Slowly, I opened up. Then another repeat from the memoir writing period occurred. New memories and trauma came to the surface. My mental health declined further. At one point, I even accused my therapist of making me worse. I tried to quit therapy but within two weeks I was back. The therapist was so patient as she waited for me to do the hard work – grinding through my problems rather than running from them. I remember once she had told me that I wasn’t alone on this journey, she was standing right beside me.

Then a major triggering event occurred. The October 7 attack on Israel was traumatizing. Shortly afterwards, I dropped by the agency and had to once again search for a home for my memoir. I literally hit rock bottom and on one horrible weekend found myself calling a crisis hotline at 3 am.

On this journey, a lot began to change for me. I re-examined my perspective towards my parents, my relationships with friends and family, and what was important to me. Things that avoided, I was now confronting but along with that came many triggers, and many emotional highs and lows. Recently in therapy I did a mapping exercise where I described the internal and external attributes to my hypo-stimulated and hyper-stimulated states. This is a step to managing those triggers.

Another important step was to go public with my struggles. This was probably the most difficult aspect of this journey. It was one thing sharing with my therapist but a much bigger challenge to open up to others. I just thought about all the people struggling in silence and how they needed to hear that getting help was worthwhile. As I began to post on social media, several people contacted me to say how they have been inspired to try or return to therapy. A more important step was the concept of my next book. I determined that the trauma I inherited from my parents was not much different than what other children of Holocaust survivors were experiencing. How many others were suffering in silence? So, I began interviewing of descendants of survivors and by the time I competed those interviews I had spoken to 96 individuals from across the globe. I also created a Facebook page for those descendants to provide a place to share. My future in Holocaust education was now set in motion.

In the weeks and days leading up to the launch of my memoir I realized the dread and anxiety I was experiencing over the past year regarding the launch had melted away. I was quite excited and looking forward to it. About 80 people attended and I was humbled by their response and also felt empowered. That afternoon I took a major step forward in the healing process.

This journey really has no end. I thank the many people who helped in this journey, supported me or cheered me on. I could not have done it without you.