Every night, I wake up at least twice to pee.
It’s been like this all my life.
I won’t even tell you what my nights looked like when I was pregnant and had a 10lb baby playing bongos on my bladder.
That’s right. Ten Pounds.
But I fall right back to sleep so it’s not really a problem.
Around 3am on Friday, June 13th, I woke up as usual having to pee.
As I stumbled back to my cloud of a bed, I felt that kind of sleepiness where you get so excited to close your eyes and just melt into oblivion.
But that didn’t happen.
As quickly as I laid back down, I was aggressively pulled out of bed with a sound I haven’t heard in months.
It was a war siren. Here we go.
When I was looking for an apartment in Israel, one of my non-negotiables was that there was a safe room built into the place.
These days, that’s pretty common in Israel. However, it’s not a guarantee.
If you live in a place with no safe room, you have a few options:
- You can work something out with a neighbor who does have a safe room so that they include you and let you in. The problem is, if there’s a siren in the middle of the day and they’re not home – you’re now locked out of safety.
- The next option would be to locate the nearest public bomb shelter and if it’s on your block you can probably make it there on time, provided you are dressed and prepared for such an event.
- And if that’s not an option, you find the safest place in your house or building (usually under a staircase or a parking garage) and pray like hell.
So, you can imagine how happy I was when I found my apartment – modern and beautiful with the smaller bedroom also being a safe room.
Meaning – Rafi slept in a bomb shelter and I didn’t have to worry if something happened in the middle of the night.
Beautiful.
So when I woke up to a siren at 3am, even though it was completely unexpected, all I had to do was mosey the 10 feet over to his room, close the safe door & windows, and sit on a comfy Ikea chair and check the news while he snored – trying to figure out what the fuck was going on.
But then I remembered something: Rafi’s room was the safe room for everyone who lives on the property, which has several homes on it.
11 people including 4 children and a huge dog.
“I should probably put some clothes on,” I thought to myself.
I was the newest neighbor on the property and before I moved in, Rafi’s room was an empty safe room that everyone ran to whenever there was a siren – which at that time was pretty often.
This was the first incident since I moved into this apartment. I wasn’t sure what to expect.
Would people start rushing into my home all of a sudden? Maybe I really do need to go get dressed.
But then I realized my door was locked.
Wait, do I need to leave the safe room to go unlock the door for my neighbors?
Luckily, the alert shifted from “go into the safe room” to “start stocking the safe room and prepare for the worst.”
What the hell was going on??
I came out and started following instructions.
I filled up water bottles and put them in the safe room with snacks. I put a fan in there. I unlocked the doors in case neighbors needed to get in.
I’m good now, right?
At this point, the entire country was awake and checking on each other.
I had texts from my brother as well as my neighbor and a couple of friends, checking on my wellbeing.
My brother sent me a link to a reliable source for news in English.
We were attacking Iran. Big time.
And we knew the retaliation was coming. That was the “prepare for the worst” part.
In case you live under a rock, Iran has been working towards building a nuclear bomb for decades and has openly admitted that their plan is to take out Israel.
Israeli Intelligence discovered that they were just WEEKS away from finishing it.
After two months of “negotiations” (or lack thereof), we took matters into our own hands and disabled their mission before they could finish it.
You’re welcome, world.
Every Israeli, regardless of political orientation, was unified in this area.
Iran cannot have nuclear capabilities. That would be the end of Israel and anyone who lived in it.
So the vibe in Israel was: “fuck yes and oh shit.”
Fuck yes to fighting rather than hiding. Fuck yes to taking on the big dog. Fuck yes to faith over fear.
And oh shit, it’s about to get real.
The next morning, Rafi woke up ready to go to school. It was a Friday so usually that means a half day. And this particular Friday was supposed to be his best friend’s birthday party in school.
“Hey buddy, I need to tell you something.”
He could tell by my tone to stop and listen.
“Last night when you were asleep, we threw some rockets at the bad guys. It’s good that we did that because it will keep us safe in the long run but we need to be ready for the bad guys trying to get us back.”
He lit up like a christmas tree.
God bless 6 year old boys.
“Can I see? Is there a video of the rockets? Did they send drones? Was it all fiery and sparkly?”
I showed him some non-scary footage of what looked like fireworks but were actually rockets being intercepted.
“School is closed today. No one has school. We will have to run out to get some things and then we are coming back here and not leaving – maybe for a few days.”
He smiled, “OK!”
This kid was on an adventure. And I wasn’t ruining it for him.
So we went to my dad’s empty apartment (he’s visiting America) and stocked up on reinforcements.
My dad is one of those guys who’s ready for an apocalypse on a regular Tuesday.
Normally, his preparations come off paranoid and over the top. My brothers and I often roll our eyes at his warnings and preparations.
But what do you know, the man isn’t as crazy as I thought!
Because while the rest of the town was running to the limited number of stores that were open to stock up on water, diapers, rice, and batteries… Rafi and I drove 5 mins to my dads spot and opened up his top drawer to find everything we needed.
Flashlight, batteries, candles & matches, canned goods, bottles of water and club soda, and about 237 plastic shopping bags.
Still haven’t figured out why he’s hoarding shopping bags but let’s move on.
We did a quick stop at the produce store and then went home.
My neighbor came over to talk about how we were going to handle the inevitable sirens and rockets.
“Now that it’s Rafi’s room and not just some empty safe room, I wanted to just have a conversation about it,” he said.
Toby moved to Israel from London about 5 years ago with his wife and three daughters. He was very much in protective papa mode and wanted to be prepared.
“Dude this is an emergency. The doors will be unlocked, the lights will be on, and we will be waiting for you.”
He smiled in relief.
I showed him what the room looked like now and invited him to drop off anything ahead of time.
His girls were older than Rafi and had a more realistic understanding of what was going on.
I didn’t envy Toby. His girls were nervous and emotional.
Like the rest of the country, this has been their life since October 7th and while desensitized, you could see the exhaustion in their eyes.
Exhaustion that I was about to know all too well.
We all went about our day with no sirens. Everyone stayed home and close to a safe room.
I spent the day cooking and getting ready for Shabbat. After dinner, Rafi and I were enjoying our weekly Shabbat treat – ice cream on the couch.
All of a sudden, Toby and his family walked in.
His 3 girls, who were no stranger to our home, went right into Rafi’s room and started getting comfortable.
The parents sat in the living room with us and explained that the county sent out a message to go into the safe room.
“But I didn’t hear a siren,” I said, feeling confused.
They shrugged. “We got a message. Better safe than sorry.”
Just then, my landlord (who lives upstairs) walked in with his girlfriend and said “it’s time, they are above us.”
Everyone’s phone started pinging with emergency notifications.
Another set of neighbors walked in – a young couple with a big dog.
The men moved chairs from my dining room into the tiny safe room and I went to grab couch cushions for the kids to sit on.
Two minutes later, at around 9:30 pm, the eleven of us were settled in. We stared at each other, taking in the fact that we were about to get very, very close.
That first time all together was actually really fun. The kids were feeding the dog treats and there was a buzz in the air.
Rafi especially loved it because everyone came into his room to stay safe. I think that made him feel special.
This is one of those times where having a sensory seeking extrovert for a child REALLY works out!
But the siren that followed at 1am was not as fun.
Being woken up totally changes the game.
The siren at 4am was brutal.
The following day, we were all exhausted. And the kids were antsy.
I took Rafi over to our friend’s house who lived about 4 blocks away. I left him there so he was close to a safe room and I walked 2 blocks to buy some food.
These were the decisions we were making – do I take my kid with me? Or leave him where he’s safer?
Ironically, the weather this week was particularly gorgeous. 80’s and sunny with a breeze.
I enjoyed the walk and took the time to call my sponsor and check in.
“We are on lockdown,” I told her.
School was cancelled for the week and all businesses were closed except for supermarkets.
Think COVID but with missiles flying over your head.
“Everyone comes to my house when the sirens go off so it’s kind of crazy but also it’s ok.”
She paused. “You know, Elana, it’s ok to complain.”
“I know. But I really do feel grateful. We live in a basement apartment and have a safe room.”
She replied, “you can be grateful and also complain.”
I’ve been thinking about that statement a lot throughout this whole ordeal…. the paradox of being grateful and stressed at the same time.
And the paradox of war.
Being in impending danger together for a prolonged period of time changes relationships.
As my one friend Tamar put it, “war strips us of masks and defenses. We get real and we open up. That’s why there are so many love stories during time of war.”
I headed back from the supermarket and spent some time at our friend’s house.
Still no sirens.
Maybe this is a one-day situation? Like the last time?
I gave Rafi the 5-minute warning that we had to leave and head home because I had to take a work call.
My friend asked me if I wanted to just leave him for the hour. He was happily playing with her son – his best friend – and was safe.
“Ok sure, thanks.”
So I got in my car and drove the 2 minutes home.
As I got out of my car, I ran into my neighbor.
“Did you get the notification? There’s going to be a siren!”
I checked my phone. Nothing.
“Are you sure?”
She nodded and ran to get her kids.
The first alert comes about 10 mins before the missile, giving us time to get close to the safe room.
I had to act fast.
My stomach churned. The idea of not being with my child during a missile attack created anxiety in me I hadn’t felt before.
I called my friend where he was and asked her if she got a notification.
“No, I didn’t… but it looks like other people did. What do you want to do?”
“I’m coming to get him. Tell him to put on his shoes.”
I drove like a mad woman and ran in the house.
“Rafi!! Let’s go!!” I yelled.
Goddamit why does it take him so long to put on his fucking crocs?
We ran to the car and I drove back home. Thank God we lived so close.
We ran in the house and the siren went off.
Phew. We made it.
BOOM!!! 💥
We heard the missiles. Then we heard the IDF intercept them.
We all huddled back in the safe room. The kids played games while the adults checked the news, waiting for a sign that it was safe to come out.
I finally took a breath.
That was the last time I let my kid out of my sight.
We are now on day 7 of the war with Iran.
As the days go on, we all meet in Rafi’s safe room several times a day (and night) as Iran and Israel battle it out.
I notice that I feel very spacey in general. I can’t focus. Holding a phone conversation feels like a huge chore. And the distractions are endless.
After talking with friends here, it seems I’m not alone. Everyone is feeling this way.
When you are in prolonged, imminent danger, certain parts of your brain shut off.
Thanks to this dissociation, most of us feel calm and are even able to have some laughs.
But it takes every fiber and cell in our bodies and brains to regulate within the prolonged trauma.
There is nothing left for the outside world.
Things that feel hard:
- Anything that requires creative energy
- Work calls
- Phone calls (especially with those not in Israel)
- Social Media (as usual) blaming us for our self-protection
- Being held to any kind of a schedule
Things that feel good:
- Being checked on without the expectation to chat
- Cleaning and cooking (false sense of control through nesting)
- Sun
- In-person friends, family & neighbors
- Hilarious videos people are posting from within safe rooms
- Writing this blog
We find comfort in visiting each other’s homes and sharing how we are feeling, what we are doing to keep the kids occupied, and what we think will happen in the coming days.
As we settle into this temporary way of life, the extenuating circumstances are forcing us to connect in deeper ways. Relationships are transforming and beautiful things are starting to happen….
TO BE CONTINUED
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 | Love,Elana |
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