Okay, so we last left off with me and Pepper stuck in the mamad (safe room - figure I can teach y'all some Hebrew along the way), barely leaving to eat or go to the bathroom. I was petrified to leave Pepper outside, especially by herself, because if the sirens sounded, I couldn't guarantee that she wouldn't panic and run the opposite direction. Showering was also out because, who wants to get caught sopping wet and naked during a siren? So, we stayed in. And reportedly, the weather was really beautiful those days, beginning of fall kind of lovely. We missed it all, replacing it with the cold concrete walls of my bedroom/bomb shelter.
Thursday during the day was actually kind of quiet. I quickly learned to be glued to my phone, texting back and forth with friends, constantly hitting the refresh on the news website, and calling to check in with everyone I could. I had come out of the mamad and was actually moving about freely in the apartment. I had forgotten for a few hours that war was happening right over my head, and it was a blissful state of numbness, until those damn sirens cut through the air again. I gathered up the dog, the phone, the computer, shut the big metal sheet outside the window, and pulled the door closed. Of course, the handle decided to break at this precise moment, just to add insult to injury. I sat on the bed during this long string of sirens, and I just cried. And screamed. And for the first time, doubted my choice to move to Israel, which if you know me, is huge because I have such a strong connection to this place and have wanted to live here for so long. My panic upset Pepper, and I quickly pulled it together, stuffing the emotions and the fear down into my stomach, where they pretty well stayed until after the war ended.
My dear friend and personal savior throughout the conflict, Artur, called to talk and calm my crazy ass down. The sirens sounded again, and he reacted before I even could. He calmly told me to go into the mamad, close the door, sit on the bed with Pepper. And then there was another siren. And a longer siren. And booms that shook the ground. He was telling me a funny story when another alarm went off, and while I sat there counting the explosions (1, 2, 3...13, 14...), he just kept talking because that's what I needed. Someone to keep me grounded in reality on some level. Sleeping, at this point, was becoming harder to do because even if there were no sirens, my body would wake me up to listen for them anyway. Some crazy state of hypervigilance that was exhausting me physically and mentally. After another mostly sleepless night, I decided to get the hell out mainly for our mental well being. This kind of constant bombardment can shake even the strongest soul.
Leaving the house for the first time was terrifying to put it bluntly. It's difficult to find shelter when you're out on the street as it is, but add to that my fat slug of a dog and the scenario just seems impossible. I called a cab to take me to the train station, which is really walking distance from my house, but a twenty minute walk in an open field just didn't sound appetizing. Once on the train, I still didn't feel safe. You're kind of stuck in a metal box if the sirens sound, and all you can do is get on the floor of the train and cover your head as it stops on the tracks. This, thankfully, didn't happen. People's phones did keep going off with the "Red Alert" app, indicating that a siren was going off somewhere around us. Whoever made that stupid application should be slapped up side the head. I'm sure it has its uses, but for me, it just reminded me of the already present fear that had made its home right in the middle of my chest.
I arrived in the center of Israel without incident but then learned that Hamas had somehow gotten rockets to Tel Aviv. And then to Jerusalem. Where I was staying was stuck right in between, but we didn't hear sirens (although that hypervigilance of constantly monitoring for them was still there and on some level is still present today). Just so you know, the whole country felt violated once the rockets went this far because it just doesn't happen (well, not in like 20 years). It's like our security blanket had just been ripped off. My sweet friend, Liran, and his family graciously accepted us Southern refugees, and I was able to rest easier. I was still very connected to what was happening down South, so much so that I wasn't really present with Liran and his family, being a hallow shell of myself who looked tired, ate like a bear, and then retreated off to monitor the situation between fitful bits of sleep. Mental mess? Yes, I was (am).
All this, and we're still not to the end! Ahhhh! I promise we'll get to the fun I'm having soon. Because, really, there's way more of that than all this trauma and stress. You all have become my personal psychologists, so just hear me out until the end. :-) Yet again, to be continued...
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