The Weight of War: Balancing Family, Fear, and Resilience

Every day, my family from the States and Canada reach out, asking with concern if I am okay, if everything is all right. As I listen to their stories of family events, travel, shopping, and lives free from the constant threat of missile attacks, I am painfully reminded of the vast difference between our worlds. While they live in relative peace, I exist in a reality shaped by fear and uncertainty. Their love and concern touch me deeply, and yet, each conversation ends with the same two words, “keep safe”, a simple phrase that carries so much significance in my current life.

Since the Yom Kippur War in 1973, Israel has faced numerous wars and conflicts, including the 1978 Operation Litani, the 1982 Lebanon War, the First and Second Intifadas, and several Gaza wars. I recall vividly being in Israel during all of these events, feeling the constant tension in the air, and the resilience of the Jewish nation around me that continued to live through periods of such uncertainty and conflict.

During my 54 years in Israel, I have never felt the profound anxiety and concern that has weighed on me since October 7. There are new dimensions to my worry now, driven by the fact that my children and grandchildren are scattered across various cities, each of them vulnerable in their own way. Some of them faced relentless missile attacks when the war began, and on that same day, one of my sons was called to serve on the northern border, then sent down to Gaza, to the Netzarim Corridor. Another son, part of the home front command, was enlisted just two weeks later. The uncertainty and fear for their safety and the safety of our Jewish nation, have made this period unlike anything I have ever experienced before.

Escape to the Beach: Photographer:Gabi Barak

Living under the constant threat of attack from Iran and Hezbollah imposes a profound psychological burden that is hard to comprehend for those who are not experiencing it firsthand. This sense of looming danger evokes, for me, a deep historical resonance, particularly for Jews whose families endured the Holocaust. The uncertainty of daily life under threat often leads to reflections on how Jews in Europe must have felt as they awaited the terrifying pounding knock on the door during the Holocaust with each moment consumed by the fear of the unknown.

During the Holocaust, Jewish families in hiding lived in a perpetual state of dread, never knowing if the next moment would bring death or further torment.

While the circumstances are very different today, thanks to existence of the State of Israel and our brave fighters in the IDF, the psychological parallels of waiting for an attack, living with a constant sense of vulnerability, and fearing for the safety of loved ones, remain strikingly similar. The modern threat of missile strikes or terrorist actions taps into that historical trauma, reminding many of the overwhelming uncertainty Jews faced during the Holocaust. It creates an emotional link across generations, a shared fear of violence that transcends time, rooted in the struggle to survive in the face of imminent danger.

This state of constant vigilance is a form of psychological warfare that is as powerful as any physical threat. The messages from Iran and Hezbollah are unambiguous in their intent to harm the Jewish nation within its own state, and this clear hostility creates a pervasive sense of dread.

How do we respond to such imminent danger? We carry on living, within certain boundaries, of course. Much of it depends on where you live in Israel. I am fortunate to be in central Israel, where I can still go the beach or meet a friend at a local coffee shop when I need a sense of escape. However, even in those moments, I find myself instinctively scanning for bomb shelters, always aware of where safety lies. By day, I work, I function, and I maintain the appearance of normalcy. Yet, beneath the surface, there is an ever-present tension that becomes most pronounced when night falls, when the distractions fade, and the encumbrance of uncertainty settles in.

When the sun sets and the day’s distractions fade away, my mind turns inward, confronting the stark reality of potential danger. The silence of the night amplifies the uncertainty, making the fear feel even more tangible. I wake several times, instinctively reaching for my phone, anxious to see if the world has shifted while I slept.  This is a nightly ritual that I recently discovered that I share with many of my friends.  We quietly navigate the same darkness, seeking reassurance in the cold glow of our screens.

It is not just about whether an attack will happen, but when and how prepared you are to face it.

After consulting with my married children, friends, and neighbors regarding their preparedness, I found that most have adequately stocked their safe rooms (bomb shelters) in their apartments with sufficient water, dried goods and batteries. However, some friends have only about 12 bottles of water, no batteries, and a few blankets for potential overnight stays in the shelter. On a personal level, I admit that my bomb shelter is not ready for any kind of long stay. While preparing the physical supplies is relatively straightforward, it is only part of the challenge.

This lingering anxiety, the constant waiting and wondering, takes a toll on both the body and mind. The psychological impact of knowing that forces with significant military power are actively considering your annihilation creates a unique and profound unease that is hard to describe.

In the face of this looming threat, I have discovered a resilience within myself that I didn’t know existed. It has not been easy, with nights spent in anxious vigilance, engulfed with moments when fear feels overwhelming. However, each time, I rise stronger. I have learned to navigate the uncertainty, to find my personal pockets of peace in the external chaos. Through every unsettling headline and every shadow of doubt, I remind myself of my inner strength, my ability to endure. I am not just reacting to the threat, I am actively confronting it, refusing to be consumed by fear.

Each challenge I face serves as a testament to my resilience, a reminder that no matter how dark the night may seem, I have the power to rise above it.