What media doesn’t show about The Nightmares of War Between Iran and Israel

I woke up to news of an attack in Iran. I have been checking the news every day to see what’s going on back home. This time, though, before I even looked, I saw a message from a friend in my Iranian group chat. They were asking if anyone had heard the missiles last night. These are no longer just headlines in the news. These nightmares of war are now the reality of my life.

“Attack? Wait a sec…” a storm of questions and feelings that hit me suddenly.

As I scrolled through my screen, my heart started to beat faster. There it was — a video of drones lighting up the sky over my hometown. This is my city, where my family lives.

I called my father right away. I wanted to make sure everyone was safe. He was at work, having a normal day, like nothing had happened. He told me that everyone was fine. His voice was calm, and he wasn’t panicking.

That’s the thing about life back home — it’s always calmer than it seems from abroad. It has always been that way, as far as I remember. When I was living there, everything felt less dramatic. I think it’s because everyone is in the same boat. They are so accustomed to hearing news like this for so long that they don’t panic instantly.

I don’t remember how old I was. I was probably four or five. I saw a video of a Palestinian kid and his father hiding from Israeli soldiers on our national TV.

Kids in the Middle East

Most of the kids in the Middle East grew up with news of war. Like me, they faced the constant threat of either Israel or the U.S. attacking their homes. In that video, the kid was killed first, in front of his father’s eyes, before they killed him too.

As a kid, it was so complicated to understand what was going on. All I knew was that video and a deep fear of losing my family or being killed. I used to think that I’m terrified because I was just a kid. I was always so afraid of ending up like that kid, terrified of soldiers coming into our apartment. And I used to think that all the other children in the world share the same fear.

Since the ’70s, Iran has been quite isolated. I hadn’t met many people from other countries while I was living there. I believed that all children shared the same fears I had. It wasn’t until I moved to Europe in my 20s and began meeting people from different countries that I realized not all children have the same childhood fears of war — and that what I experienced was trauma.

Every single nightmare I had as a kid featured the shadows of soldiers passing our window. They ran to break into our apartment just seconds later. They wanted to kill everyone.

As I got older, those nightmares slowly faded — until a few nights ago. My childhood nightmares returned, exactly as they had been. I woke up with an intense feeling of terror. It took me a few minutes to remember what I had seen.

I woke up right after.

Like my childhood nightmares, in this dream, I wasn’t the one who was being killed. My family was. I was the one left behind, terrified at the thought of living on my own. I was just a kid, helpless and alone.

Sometimes it feels like living in a different reality. I look around me and feel nobody has constant fear that their families must be in danger. I feel so isolated, so alone.

“Do you experience some kind of dissociation” my therapist asked me.

“I’m not sure — maybe.” I replied.

I feel so lost in my thoughts and worries about home sometimes that I feel very disconnected from my surroundings. I zone out, my boyfriend notices — I see it in his face before he speaks.

“Where did you go just now?” he asks.

“Nowhere. sorry!” I reply.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Later, I’m too overwhelmed to find words to talk.” I say.

Yesterday, I forgot that I had therapy. It was the first time that it happened. My therapist called me and when saw his name on my screen, I thought that he was calling by mistake.

For the past two months, all I’ve talked about is home, the Middle East or the war. I haven’t spoken a word about work, my relationships, or anything else— just home. This constant feeling of being in danger shadows every aspect of my life and well-being.

I’m stressed all the time. Whether I’m grocery shopping or working, there is always a part of me that’s on edge. The feeling persists even when I take the train or talk to my family. It’s like a background app running on my mind. I don’t always notice it, but it’s always there, draining my energy nonstop.

I still feel like that little innocent girl 20 years ago, the same girl with the same worries, the same fears. The one who had nightmares of war, who felt unsafe, and was terrified of losing her family.

I’m still that little girl, but now, I hope that everything happening around me is just a nightmare. A nightmare I can finally wake up from.