He was not a regular in shul. Nevertheless when I heard his daughter was engaged I decided to stop by.

As I was leaving he asked if I would meet with him after the midnight Maariv. I looked at his face and saw pain. I told him to come on Wednesday. He asked “This is between us?” I assured him it would be confidential.

At 12:15 a.m. Wednesday he arrived.

“You do not know me well. By all outward appearances I am a successful rebbi. I have a wonderful wife and children. I daven vasikin and have many chavrusos. However I am in deep pain. In fact sometimes the pain is so great I consider doing the unthinkable to myself.

“I suffer from depression. If you’ve never experienced it you cannot imagine what depression is.

“I am in a black hole of pain that engulfs my entire being.

“I feel lonely and sad even when I’m surrounded by friends and loved ones.

“I dread opening my eyes in the morning. And I’m in trepidation when I attempt to fall asleep.

“I fear nothing and I fear everything and this feeling erases all simchah from my day.

“Even when everything in life is good I am filled with crippling and paralyzing fear and sadness. The most basic task such as smiling becomes a painful chore and just getting to shul and davening — not to mention teaching and interacting with people — is unbearable. I am sick and tired of countless people telling me they ‘also sometimes feel blue.’ I cannot bear another person telling me to ‘snap out of it stop feeling so sorry for yourself.’

“They have no idea of what depression really is. It has nothing to do with feeling ‘blue’ and you cannot just ‘snap out of it.’

“Why don’t I go to my rav? The answer is one word: shidduchim.”

“I have more daughters in shidduchim and they will call my rav for a reference. I can never share with him my suffering.”

He paused and his face contorted in pain. “I can no longer bear the pain. Please help me.”

I looked at him and felt his pain. I felt his loneliness and his feeling of desperation.

I gave him names of therapists who could be of assistance; however he demurred.

“Can’t you give me a name of a doctor who I can call anonymously for a prescription?”

I replied that if he is really concerned about shidduchim he needs to deal with the issue now. I reminded him that this is no different than diabetes or any other treatable ailment. Finally after a long discussion he agreed to see someone. As he was leaving he asked me: “How come my rebbeim in yeshivah never spoke about this? How come rabbanim never give talks about this? Why is it always relegated to the women’s section of magazines?”

I looked at him. “You can begin to change that” I suggested “by being a source of inspiration to others suffering in silence and feeling they’re all alone. Why not speak to fellow sufferers who could receive chizuk from you?”

“I could never do that. I would never admit my problem to anyone. It’s your job to get the word out not mine.”

“Fine” I said “I’ll get the word out. I’ll write the article. However if someone asks you about the article can you at least say it was an overdue and important article?”

“I’ll think about it. You first write the article and I’ll think about it.”

I just did my part. Will you do yours?