Remembering Max Guttman: A Bright Light Gone Too Soon
On Saturday, April 19, I received the kind of news that knocks the breath out of you. My friend and colleague Max Guttman, age 38, had died earlier that day in a fatal electric scooter accident. I’m still in shock. Max wasn’t just someone I worked with – he was a shining presence in my life, and in the lives of so many in the mental health and peer support communities.
I don’t even remember exactly how we met – maybe it was around 2019, right as the pandemic was beginning – but I remember the feeling of meeting him. From the start, Max made a big impression. Like me, he was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia, yet he didn’t fit the mold of what many people expect from that diagnosis. Max was full of life, constantly smiling, radiating positivity. He had a lightness and a sense of humor that stood out in every room, virtual or otherwise.
Max was much more than his diagnosis. He was a licensed social worker, an adjunct professor, a small business owner, and a passionate mental health advocate. Through his private practice, he offered therapy and peer support, and he made a point of serving people from all walks of life – about a third of his clients were on Medicaid or Medicare. He believed everyone deserved care, and he lived that belief.
A prolific writer, Max had authored at least three books chronicling his journey through mental health and love, along with countless articles on his blog. His work was honest, funny, raw, and deeply human. He had a big presence on social media, using platforms like Facebook and Instagram to share insights, encouragement, and the occasional goofy meme. He knew how to connect with people.
Max once gave a talk to my peer professional support group on how to start a peer-run business. It was generous and practical – classic Max. We even presented together at a national peer support conference over Zoom, turning our shared session into a joyful, high-energy performance that felt more like a comedy duo than a PowerPoint.
He was close to his family – his parents and brother were unwavering in their love and support. They were so proud of him, and rightfully so. Max accomplished so much, defying the stigma that often surrounds schizophrenia. He showed the world that a diagnosis does not define a person’s potential.
Outside of work, Max was passionate about writing, research, teaching, video games, Star Trek, Fleetwood Mac, flying drones, and zipping around town on his scooter. That scooter gave him freedom and joy; it’s heart-breaking that it was also what took him from us.
Max, I will miss you terribly. I know that wherever you are, you’re still smiling, probably quoting Captain Picard, and finding a way to make people laugh. Thank you for being my friend. The world is a little dimmer without you, but your light lives on in all of us.