Mental Health America’s 2026 theme, “More Good Days, Together,” encourages each of us to consider what a “good” day might look like, individually and within our respective communities. For the global Jewish community, that invitation feels especially relevant today.

Oftentimes, it can be challenging to reflect on what comprises a “good” day, particularly when feeling bogged down by any number of psychosocial stressors we might be experiencing. What can make this reflection even more difficult is the multitude of challenges facing the global Jewish community and the significant impact this can have, both individually and collectively.

We have heard time and time again just how resilient Israelis and the global Jewish community are. This sentiment was echoed in reflections on last year’s Mental Health Awareness Month theme, “In every story there’s strength.” But as another year of wars and rising antisemitism has passed, what happens when resilience is met with continuous traumatic stress, exhaustion, sustained vigilance, ongoing grief, fear, and the pressure—whether internal or external—to remain strong?

For the parents trying to stay strong for their young children in bomb shelters; for those whose spouses have been called back into Miluim, or whose children or parents are currently serving; for those who lost loved ones on or after October 7; for school-age children in the diaspora navigating ongoing antisemitism both at school and online; for those around the world facing anti-Jewish discrimination in their workplaces, communities, or neighborhoods; and for those who question their safety when publicly displaying their Judaism, there is immense pressure to remain resilient during an otherwise extraordinarily difficult time for Jews across the globe.

When faced with such profound concerns, it may not feel possible to reflect on what constitutes a “good day.”

Unfortunately, there is no returning to a pre-October 7 world or to a world untouched by the traumatic invalidation that so many Jews experienced shortly thereafter, resulting in the loss of friendships, colleagues, coworkers, and communities. As one can imagine, this can be an incredibly difficult reality for us to sit with, regardless of how resilient our community may be.

When speaking about resilience, what is often left unspoken is that seemingly conflicting emotional experiences do not have to be mutually exclusive. We can hold the tension of living in a post-October 7 world, while also grieving our prior sense of “normalcy,” whatever that may have been. We can acknowledge the ongoing pain and fear that may be experienced by Israelis and the global Jewish community, alongside the difficulty of even defining what a “good day” might look like. We can mourn the loss of loved ones on or after October 7 and sit with uncertainty about what tomorrow may bring. And we can hold all of this without our resilience being diminished, and without having to question our sense of strength.

Our resilience is not measured by the extent to which these valid concerns and realities faze us, nor by the scale of our emotional response when facing these significant sources of hardship in recent years. Rather, resilience may be found in our willingness to continue showing up for ourselves, our loved ones, and our communities even when these realities feel overwhelming. And although showing up may at times feel like an ongoing challenge, perhaps we have overlooked the latter part of this year’s theme, “together.”

While we may often find ourselves trying to carry the weight of the world on our shoulders, we may also find solace in one of the most remarkable aspects of the Jewish community—the understanding that we do not have to show up alone. Support, connection, and belonging can help anchor our sense of Jewish identity while further contributing to both our individual and collective resilience. What might it look like, then, to draw strength from one another and our community at large, knowing that we do not have to carry our burdens alone?

What if, in these moments of continued stress, our “good days” are not defined by the absence of grief, fear, or uncertainty, but by the moments of connection, meaning, and presence we experience with one another—lighting Shabbat candles and sharing a meal with family, enjoying a moment of laughter among loved ones, reaching out to a friend to catch up, coming together and finding strength in community, taking a walk and grounding ourselves in nature, or embracing moments of quiet that allow us to be fully present with ourselves and those around us?

As the global Jewish community continues to face ongoing strife, it is important to remember that our difficult days do not define us. They do not define our individual or collective resilience, and they most certainly do not have to be navigated alone. As we reflect on ways to lean on our support networks and our larger communities during these times, I invite each of you to consider how we might have “more good days, together,” even if only one moment at a time.