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Rita Glassman recalls her older brother David as a sensitive, creative soul whose intellect surpassed that of her and her other two siblings. He was a musician and a poet. Yet he was also prone to bouts of anger. Even as an adolescent, she knew that he was deeply troubled.

Glassman, who is the cantor at Congregation Beth Sholom in San Francisco, was 14 when she returned from summer camp to learn that David, then 19, had committed suicide. The family's rabbi had advised Glassman's mother not to tell her until she returned home, so as not to ruin her summer. As a result, she missed his funeral, and it took decades before she was able to deal properly with her own grief.

Glassman described an atmosphere of secrecy and loss that permeated her home long before her brother's death. Her parents were Holocaust survivors, and as the eldest boy, perhaps David felt their anguish even more deeply than his younger siblings.

"I think he commented to a relative once that there was no way he could fulfill all the expectations of my father. We were all expected to make up for the losses, but maybe he was affected by that more."

Whatever the reason for his depression, Glassman believes that had they been living in a different time, perhaps David might still be alive.

Glassman will be taking part in the first Bay Area conference to address mental illness in the Jewish community on Sunday afternoon, Nov. 5, at Congregation Rode Sholom in San Rafael. She will sing two songs she wrote about her brother.

Although her mother did try taking David to a psychiatrist, "the legacy we got was you had to be strong and take care of yourself and help yourself — not go to others for help. There wasn't an awareness of what the problem was in those days," she said.

"Had there been more acceptance and diagnosis and medication, perhaps he would have been OK," she added. "I think his pain had gotten so great, that he had to give up his life. He didn't know any other way."

While the veil that has traditionally surrounded mental illness is slowly being lifted, a stigma still remains around a disease that, medical professionals agree, can often be just as debilitating, if not more so, than illnesses of the physical variety. And while the general public is quick to sympathize with physical illness, many people still don't know how to react to mental illness, which is more common than cancer, diabetes or heart disease.

The National Alliance for the Mentally Ill, also known as NAMI, estimates that 12 percent of the country's 63 million youths under 21 suffer from a mental, behavioral or developmental disorder. Yet only 20 percent of youths in need of treatment receive it.

In addition, 21 percent of American hospital beds are filled by people with a mental illness. NAMI estimates that up to one in five families is affected by a severe mental illness, such as bipolar disorder, schizophrenia or major depression.

There is no evidence of a higher prevalence of mental illness among Jews. However, some conference organizers say that the stigma surrounding mental illness does seem to be greater in the Jewish community.

Alex Markels, a clinical social worker at Jewish Family and Children's Services in Marin County, said that Jews tended to keep it "more closeted" and considered it "more shameful… because of the high achievement cliché of the 'my son, the doctor' attitude.

Judy Schwartz, Marin branch director of JFCS, agreed.

"The Jewish community in general places such high value on competency and accomplishment and intellectual achievement, so I think families who struggle with a child who is mentally ill have a hard time of it."

Schwartz is moderating the conference, called "Bringing Down the Stigma Walls." The half-day gathering, which is free and open to the public, will feature talks by mental health professionals, rabbis and others.

In addition, a healing service will be conducted.

One Marin woman whose daughter suffers from borderline personality disorder says it's about time such an event was held.

"I never even tried to go to the Jewish community because it didn't dawn on me that this is a place that you go," said the woman, who requested anonymity to protect her daughter's privacy. "When my mother died, sure you go to the rabbi. If you want to know about the Jewish holidays, of course. But mental illness? It never dawned on me."

Judy Bader of San Francisco, a Jewish community professional who was diagnosed with bipolar disorder six years ago at the age of 51, said the Jewish communal world is a supportive and nurturing place to work when dealing with a death or physical illness in the family. But she didn't have quite the same experience.

"There is a much greater need for understanding in the area of mental illness," she said.

Bader will speak about her disorder at the conference, and was forthcoming about the details of her manic episodes and the effect they've had on her family.

Before she was diagnosed, she mystified doctors who believed "when young women have severe mood swings, it must be PMS. When women over 50 have severe mood swings, it must be menopause."

Indeed, doctors thought her depression was due to menopause, even though her gynecologist confirmed that she was not going through it.

"I knew something was wrong with me," she said. "I couldn't laugh or cry. I wasn't enjoying things."

Her husband noticed her mood changes but thought she'd soon return to normal. And her friends, who knew her to be remarkably upbeat, thought something could be wrong. But no one guessed the cause, or saw how deeply she was suffering.

"There was a history of mental illness in my family," she said. "My older brother was diagnosed with manic depression in his late 20s or early 30s, and other members of my family exhibited different forms of mental illness. I had no idea that it was genetic. I always thought I was the lucky one that it had missed me."

After a manic period during which she thought she was invincible — "I had a feeling of self-worth I had never had" — she suffered a period of depression so severe she didn't get out of bed for three months.

Doctors continued to misdiagnose her, until one asked Bader about her family history with mental illness. Because it is usually diagnosed in people younger than she was, mental illness had been overlooked by most doctors who saw her.

"It's really important to educate people so they don't go undiagnosed as long as I did," she said.

Bader said she has been fortunate to have the full support of her husband, two sons and their wives. Nevertheless, she said, "people who know nothing about mental illness don't have a clue what you're going through."

The Marin County woman whose daughter began exhibiting symptoms in her early teens said, "It's a very destabilizing force in family life."

Although her middle-aged daughter lives alone, she is not self-supporting, and her mother wonders what will happen to her when her parents are no longer around.

Becoming an advocate for the mentally ill has helped her cope with her daughter's disorder, she said. "It's much better to feel you're doing something for someone else, but the loss of the promise of that child is ongoing. It's a sorrow that does not entirely go away."

The Marin woman has sought support through NAMI.

"One very smart psychiatrist once told me, 'Don't try to talk to your friends about it unless they've been there,'" she said.

"You get all this well-meaning advice, like cut off her funds, but they don't get it. A supportive community is so important."

Often, the tendency is to blame either the mental illness sufferer, or the parents.

"People are still in the Dark Ages," she said. "They assume if a child has a behavior disorder or mental illness, it must be your fault, that the parenting must have been very bad."

Having a support group of people who are also dealing with mental illness is crucial, she said, because there is no blame, and no guilt trips. "Otherwise, you're just out there, floating out in space."

Schwartz said the goal of the conference is to make Jewish families coping with mental illness feel that they're not "floating out in space," but that there are places they can get support, within a Jewish framework.

Bader, who said she will be taking medication for the rest of her life, agreed, adding it was vital that people understand the illness can be controlled.

"Through medication and therapy there is help out there," she said. "But the person has to be willing to help herself."

And the support system is crucial as well, she said. "People around the person need to be supportive and understanding and accept that the