Somewhere between trauma and resilience

To this day, when you ask my father if he would like tea or coffee, he will respond “Yes.” While his goal is to make the server smile, he is also genuinely torn between the two. In a somewhat similar vein, I believe that our tough but tortured Israeli psyches have been acting and reacting out of both trauma and resilience simultaneously for well over 600 days. We have become accustomed to some unusual and truly horrible things over this period of time, but it isn’t all heroics – we are hurting, too. Even if we ourselves don’t choose to acknowledge it.

When we first entered the chapter of early morning ballistic missile wake up calls from Yemen, I was the most flustered I have ever been. Sirens rang out at 2:00 AM, my phone was flashing like a possessed lighthouse, and I had trouble composing myself enough to walk the 10 feet from my bedside to the safe room. Within a week, however, it was old news. From extremely disorienting panic to an almost laughable late night nuisance in just a few days. That’s just the way it’s been during this gauntlet of godawful surprises.

As we entered the safe room for the umpteenth time during the wee hours of Friday, June 13, I didn’t even bother to close the protective steel covering that shields the window. It just felt unnecessary, and I was in no mood for extra work. At the same time, the gravity of the situation was heavier than ever. We are in the endgame now, and everything we thought we knew – about this war and ourselves – is subject to drastic changes.

For the first time since October 7, 2023, I’m feeling profoundly numb. But it’s not the same nagging numbness that I’ve been living with at the back of my brain and the bottom of my heart for 20 consecutive months. I am suddenly very aware of my resilience and my trauma, and I know that I’m not the only one.

Since the first days of this never-ending war, it has been my assertion that the official stats of Israelis grappling with PTSD don’t tell the full story. While just a fraction of the population is emotionally healthy enough to admit their struggles and open a file with the Ministry of Health, I believe that every single Israeli is wrestling with some kind of trauma, and their silent suffering will come into focus “the day after.”

To be sure, we will win this war against Iran, because we don’t have any other option. Without exaggeration, the safety of the entire world rests squarely on our broad Jewish shoulders. But when the dust settles, we will have to come to terms with the state of our national mental health.

Will all 9.7 million citizens of Israel see the long-awaited removal of imminent danger as an opportunity to let go of pent up feelings and curl up into the fetal position? Probably not. But there will be a reckoning of some kind. We are people, after all, and as miraculously resilient as we have been, we are hurting, too. And it will soon be the time to acknowledge it.