Lemons In The Fog
Also available at Judaica stores worldwide
Lemons in the Fog portrays the slow unraveling of 19 year old Meir’s mind as he suddenly finds himself drifting off from his intense learning sessions at Yeshiva. He is led down a path that no one willingly wishes to take; forced to leave behind his beloved yeshiva life, he finds himself trapped in a psych ward feeling abandoned by family and society. Not wanting to engage with therapists or medications, Meir is hopeless, until he begins to trust those whom he never would have trusted before.
Meir’s hopes, attempts, accomplishments, disappointments, and realizations are all part of one journey, interwoven to reconstruct the new Meir, the one he has to live with and love for the rest of his life.
Lemons in the Fog is a book born of necessity, from hearing the silent cries of the members of the Jewish Orthodox Community struggling to maintain secrecy while trying desperately to preserve their dignity. Many of these anonymous young woman and men live among us in our shuls, educational institutions and our social networks and daily fight an upward battle. To them should be given the medal of honor for bravery and perseverance.
Lemons in the Fog was written to expose this struggle and to highlight the real-life challenges they face. By creating empathy for Meir, the main character in this riveting novel, and by following along with him through his surprise encounter with mental illness, I will have opened the door for engendering empathy and compassion, born of understanding the exhausting hardship of family members, friends, and neighbors. Through no fault of his own, has his soul’s journey been entrusted with this mission, and who are we to judge?
Due to the close-knit nature of the Jewish community, the stigma of mental illness is magnified, as is the distrust of mental health professionals undermining Jewish mores. Therefore, families choose to hush up anything related to mental illness or other unpleasant matters, hoping not to affect opportunities for their families in regard to marriage, jobs, and social status. The goal of my book is to create awareness of this self-imposed stigma and isolation, and to emphasize how this impedes the recovery and stability of those in our community battling these issues.
Book Excerpts
The melody in my head drew me inward, monopolizing my focus. My feverish pace increased as I extended my hand in front of me, resting it on an imaginary shoulder. Driven by a relentless force I didn’t understand, I danced round and round for hours.
Lying in bed, I saw a lemon tree through the window with its branches stretching out toward the sky. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the yellow, orbed fruit for hours. When my head cleared, the yellow color against the blue sky was magnificently cheerful, but when my moods dipped, it morphed into a dull, grayish tone, barely distinguishable from the rest of the gray world I saw. On sunny days, the lemons dazzled and danced before my eyes. I envied the freedom of the fruits swaying in the breeze while I lay motionless in bed.
Once I was in motion, I couldn’t stop myself. It was a terrifying feeling, losing control of my own limbs. I tried to grab hold of a trunk from one of the trees and it bent my finger backwards. I ran out of the grove, approaching the highway. The cars were getting closer. Where was I going? I ran alongside the road for a few feet, and then abruptly turned around and headed back to the rehabilitation farm. I dashed at breakneck speed back through the olive trees and towards the group still waiting there. They’d sat down to await my return, used to different boys acting out irrationally in turns. They understood, they knew, they were my new family, my true friends. Would we all leave here together? The terrifying thought of having to face the world on my own came thundering down on me and I knew then and there that I couldn’t leave here alone.
​My learning pace slowed and I could hear the pages turning, something I’d never been mindful of before. My chavrusa awkwardly asked me permission to learn with someone else. I nodded, choked up, as he moved over to a different table. I finished the page shaking my head briskly back and forth to reel in my wandering mind, but as I turned to the next page, the haze began to win.
I stood there, and for the first time since I became ill, tears streamed down my cheeks as I watched the rehab gate open and the car with Abba and Uncle Isaac drove away down the road. The gate closed behind them, locking me in.
Our art papers had abstract, seemingly meaningless doodles, weird shapes, and distorted people in dark colors. The pain in the room was real. A boy sitting near me whom Dr. Katz had called Rafi drew a skinny line in the middle of the paper, leaving the rest blank. I quietly asked him what that was.
He looked at me as if debating whether or not to trust me.
“I won’t tell anyone what you say.”
He laughed. “They know all my secrets here. Our secrets could fill oceans.” He winked.
“This is a picture of me. All alone.”
My smile faded and I knew he could see my heart shattering for him.