Although it’s been a full month since this nightmare became real.
Although there are some things I have gotten used to – even learned to live with,
It’s still really, really hard.
Some days more than others.
I’ve never been great at transitions.
Now, simple acts like leaving my work desk and stepping into my quiet living room, or having a family dinner, and then having a call with a girlfriend or checking my messages and then making dinnerĀ – this move from thing to thing registers in my body like a trip to another time zone; a rare breed of relational and emotional whiplash.
There are so many concurrent realities running in parallel – at all times.
There is concern for soldiers that I personally know and love.
There is concern for my friends, their mothers (and fathers).
There is fear and an agony I can’t allow myself to feel about our hostages.
There is inspiration and pride from the beauty and resilience of our people.
There is annoyance that I am responsible for making dinner.
There is mourning for the pogrom, still fresh, still new.
There is healing and growth.
There is a constant buzz of anticipation about the threat of war on the northern front.
There is the pain that comes with each new piece of bad news that trickles in at a stead pace. Daily.
There is outrage at the world opinion about our right to protect ourselves, our right to exist.
There is outrage towards a culture of humans that use their own people as human shields in their sick, blood thirsty mission to destroy.
There is the joy of having my family home together.
There is the calm, faithful knowing that no matter what the nations say, we know who we are.
There is the pure unadulterated pride of being a Jew.
There is concern about my family abroad – mainly about how concerned they are about us.
There is a sense of responsibility to my community.
There is concern about regular-life-non-war related stuff that comes up.
The travel from reality to reality is exhausting.
That’s the biggest feature of this time period for me.
Exhaustion.
No matter how many hours I sleep, feeling rested is just not a thing.
Maybe that’s what they mean by ‘no rest for the weary’.
I find myself feeling nauseous or ravenous. Absent-minded or locked-in thought. Grateful for what is or uncertain of what will be.
It’s a strange brew of a very broad spectrum of emotions that co-exist at all times.
It’s beyond dialectic.
No one has built in tools to manage this kind of reality.
That’s all for now. Time to make dinner.
xo