On World Mental Health Day, we in Beirut are not okay

While the world was celebrating World Mental Health Day, we in Beirut experienced a different kind of event. On October 10, 2024, Israel bombed densely populated residential buildings in the heart of the Lebanese capital, turning that evening into a night of panic and countless traumas and leaving everyone in shock.

Three intense airstrikes shook the neighborhoods of Beirut. In mere minutes, these Israeli strikes shattered all the composure we had managed to accumulate, creating new psychological scars to add to those that preceded them.

The sound of the first blast echoed through the air. I felt as though it had broken my back. I tried to comprehend what was happening amidst the reactions around me. I struggled to maintain my composure amid the chaos that erupted. But soon, the second sound followed, then the third, and that was the straw that broke the camel's back.

As I now recall what happened and pause to observe everyone’s expressions, I see faces filled with fear, faces that need a warm embrace and a cup of tea, nothing more. We miss the hot tea we used to enjoy during our normal evening gatherings. We miss the details of our everyday lives.

“Stay away from the windows and glass, calm down, don’t leave the area, don’t use the stairs, wear medical masks for protection against the toxic gases released from the bombardment..” But no one told us how to calm our anxious, terrified souls. Human rights organizations didn’t explain how we could piece together the scattered fragments of our mental health shattered by the bombing of our safe spaces.

Returning to that scene, I am still amazed by my "composure." How can one remain composed while under bombardment? I was brave enough to put on my shoes, grab my bag and keys, and carry my sister’s bag that she had left behind in her escape before I took off. But where to? I didn’t know. I don’t believe what happened to me was composure; perhaps it was complete paralysis imposed upon me by the conditions of war. I feel stripped to the core when it comes to expressing my emotions, as if I have no choice but to remain steady, and any desire to collapse is a luxury I cannot afford right now.

Some ran toward the door, others froze in place, while a few collapsed in tears. Some of us chose self-restraint, attempting to guide others—even if by shouting. “Stay away from the windows and glass, calm down, don’t leave the area, don’t use the stairs, wear medical masks for protection against the toxic gases released from the bombardment..” But no one told us how to calm our anxious, terrified souls. Human rights organizations didn’t explain how we could piece together the scattered fragments of our mental health shattered by the bombing of our safe spaces.

A few heavy minutes passed before we calmed down a little and tried to find our balance. The first thing I felt was pain in my lower back. This pain is very familiar to me, as trauma is usually stored in that area of the body.

There are studies that indicate that psychological trauma is linked to physical tension. The mind and body are believed to be closely connected, and repressed or unprocessed emotions can lead to muscle tension and other physical symptoms.

In cases of psychological trauma, the body may store this tension in specific areas, with the back often being one of those locations. The body's response to trauma is based on the "fight or flight" response, where hormones like adrenaline and cortisol are released. These hormones cause an increase in muscle tension and prepare the body for emergency situations, which can lead to strain on the back muscles.

My pain in the lumbar vertebrae perfectly reflected my condition. My sense of helplessness in the face of life's difficulties was evident. This was a situation that transcended mere "challenges" in its cruelty, and a danger that exceeded my capacity to accept and cope with it.

As the Israeli war machine continues to turn our cities into ruins, our districts into wastelands, talking about mental health support becomes increasingly difficult. In a world that watches these tragedies in silence—sometimes even fueling them—the double standards take center stage. The international community treats our trauma as collateral damage, while simultaneously singing the praises of mental health care for pets, but only the Western ones, of course.

My friend asked me, "Haven’t you gotten used to the sound by now?" referring to the sounds of bombardment that have become so frequent lately. I answered him with complete awareness, "It’s not normal to get used to these crimes and brutality."

The shelter centers are another tale of worn-out and distorted mental health. We tried to calm the displaced by bringing them back to the “here and now.” But how do you convince someone in shock that what happened is over, that he survived this time? He knows, we know, and the whole world knows that this time is not the first, and it won’t be the last.

Malak, a sweet 7-year-old girl, approached us and asked, "What does 'phosphorus' mean?" Malak, who was wearing a mask like the rest of us, had heard that the bombing contained phosphorus and had witnessed the ensuing terror firsthand, before she inhaled the polluted air. How do we answer a child who has endured a three-dimensional trauma, perceiving it with all her senses? Who can reassure Malak?

Of course, it’s no secret that the world stands by, watching, and in many cases, supporting all of this. As the Israeli war machine continues to turn our cities into ruins, our districts into wastelands, talking about mental health support becomes increasingly difficult. In a world that watches these tragedies in silence—sometimes even fueling them—the double standards take center stage. The international community treats our trauma as collateral damage, while simultaneously singing the praises of mental health care for pets, but only the Western ones, of course.

My friend asked me, "Haven’t you gotten used to the sound by now?" referring to the sounds of bombardment that have become so frequent lately. I answered him with complete awareness, "It’s not normal to get used to these crimes and brutality."

The long-term impact of psychological trauma

Violent attacks, such as those witnessed in Gaza, Beirut, the southern suburbs, and South Lebanon, leave behind psychological scars that may not heal easily. According to clinical psychologist Ghina Hammoud, studies show that trauma from wars can lead to disorders such as chronic anxiety, depression, and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). These traumas don’t just affect the individuals directly involved; they extend to the entire community. The sense of insecurity and fear of the future lingers with victims long after the wars end.

On World Mental Health Day, we mourn what little remains of ours. This basic human right of ours is being violated with unchecked brutality, while the international community sings hollow praises and offers empty rhetoric. What happened in Beirut was not just a passing event, but a deep wound in the collective memory of the Lebanese capital, one that will long stand as a testament to the international impotence and failure in the face of the people's suffering.

For too long, our psychological trauma from Israel's aggression against our country has been suppressed and neglected. But today, more than ever, it deserves to be at the forefront of campaigns, seminars, conferences, and speeches. Any compensation that doesn’t include healing our psychological wounds cannot be considered meaningful.

* The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author’s and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Raseef22