Max Guttman was born on 2nd July 1986 and died on 18th April 2025. He was a mental health advocate, a writer, an editor, a social worker, a colleague, and, most of all, my friend.
From the first time we spoke in the winter of 2015–2016, right through to the night before he died, Max was my cheerleader, my confidence booster, and my reason to carry on. We talked for almost two hours that last night. That was not unusual. We would often spend hours on the phone covering whatever was on our minds, whether that was a new recipe, current events, or our writing. Max always spoke openly and honestly, no matter the subject.
We only met in person twice, but that never limited the depth of our conversations. He had a great deal to say on every topic we discussed, and he said it with the kind of directness that made you feel heard. Over the years, he spoke at many conferences, drawing on his own lived experiences to offer insight that textbooks simply cannot provide. His humility, authenticity, and openness to everything he encountered were what made him who he was.
His voice carried weight because it was grounded in real life. He spoke without hesitation about racial inequality, women’s rights, and the shifting landscape of mental health care. He did not just observe these issues from a distance. He lived inside them, and he brought others along with him.
Beyond his clinical work as a social worker, Max was a prolific writer and educator. He contributed nearly 200 articles to one publication alone, exploring the nuances of mental health, recovery, and the daily realities faced by people living with mental illness, including himself and me. He also taught and lectured at Fordham University, passing his knowledge and experience on to the next generation of mental health professionals.
What drove Max was a need to challenge the mental health system as it stood. Using his own story, he changed the way many people saw and talked about care, treatment, and recovery. He did not accept the system at face value. He questioned it, and in doing so, he gave others permission to do the same.
He was my editor on one of the blogs I wrote for, and I later became an assistant editor myself. That connection, built on mutual respect and shared purpose, meant a great deal to me. But what meant more than anything else was simply that he was my friend.
A year on, I still miss him. I miss his honesty, his warmth, and those long phone calls that stretched on because neither of us wanted to stop talking. Max left behind a body of work that continues to matter, and a way of engaging with the world that was entirely his own.
To the legacy of Max Guttman: cheers, and tears of happiness.
Howard Diamond is currently not employed due to nerve damage affecting both legs from the waist down, which makes walking difficult. He also experiences visual problems that cause severe headaches.