A Day After 100 Sleepless Nights

A community submission by: Elsa Jarawan from Deir Mimas, South Lebanon

It took me some time to post about this. It took me some time to process the emotions that I have been feeling for the past month.

October 1^st, 2024 — a regular day at work after a sleepless night. A night of waiting to see my home country under continuous missiles and bombing. A night of waiting to see where the next target is. A night of unexplained fear and alertness. Living in a safe place but feeling unsafe, uncertain and worried. These constant feelings that we experience whenever we’re away from our homeland, Lebanon—the place of our dreams, where we were born, where we spent our lovely, memorable and funny childhood, and where we once hoped to build our lives. Unfortunately, we did not. Instead, we decided to leave.

I woke up on Tuesday morning, feeling tired and unwell. With only one eye barely open, I started checking my phone for any new notifications about the ongoing war, ensuring my family was safe and unaffected. I forced myself to go to work and stick to my routine despite the chaos around me. I finished my two-hour lecture to students on PTSD, post-traumatic stress disorder, a chapter in the adult mental health theory course. We discussed traumas and the symptoms a person might experience.

Back in my mind were the pictures of the displaced families. The images of innocent children who are losing their homes, their parents, and their lives.

Back in my mind, there were reflections of real suffering and resilience in the world. Back in mind, there were Lebanon where there is real life scenarios of continuous unresolved trauma and loss leaving the people with heartache and struggles. People who had to endure so many obstacles, wars, pandemics, economic crises, explosions and much more, yet they continued to survive the harsh conditions and worked effortlessly and tirelessly to ensure a life of dignity to their families and to their loved ones. The strength of their spirit, the hard work, the commitment, the determination, the courage drives them to push through unimaginable challenges. They always find a way to resolve the problems and move forward.

I went for my break to work and to finish some assigned tasks then my husband texted me to join a call with him and my cousin. I joined the call. My cousin delivered the news.

“Elsa, our village Deir Mimas was severely attacked last night. Your house is still on ground but there were some damages.”

I stopped breathing for seconds; I could feel my heartbeats racing. I was shaking, I could not speak. I saw a picture of the house after the bombing. I was shocked, numb, sad, disappointed, devastated and heartbroken. I saw the house shattered into broken pieces. Seeing the walls collapsed, the windows blown out, the furniture destroyed was so heavy and painful. I could feel the overwhelming loss of a place which was once filled with warmth, embrace, laughter and beautiful faces. The silence is now louder than any sound. It is so profound, it settles into the soul leaving ache, sorrow, grief and despair.

With tears in my eyes, I started remembering the beautiful memories in this house: the family reunions, the garden sunsets and nights, the Cedar tree that stands high, strong, and majestic, the colorful flowers that surround the house with a refreshing scent, the delicious meals of my lovely mother, the clinic built inside the house of my hardworking, affectionate father, and lastly, the vibrant wedding celebrations.

That was the last time I visited my home. That was the time when we had all our family and friends gathered from near and far for the big day. That was the time when we danced, loved, smiled and cried. That was the time when we had the chance to live in peace and sanity. That was the time when we cherished the moments with sweet notes of music and a tearful and heartfelt toast from my beloved parents. My parents whose faces were filled with glow and excitement. They were grateful for the people celebrating with them and they were wishing to celebrate again for my brother Toufic. They wished for a future filled with the same love and happiness we experienced that day.

We didn’t know it would be the last time we visited this sacred, meaningful place. We had been certain we’d return every few months to escape the busy world and enjoy days or weeks of mental and physical well-being. We believed we’d be there to harvest the olives each October, tasting the finest olive oil in the world.

We were sure we’d visit the waterfalls, walk through the mountains, and feel the breeze on our faces. We were sure we’d continue to cherish life’s simplest pleasures. We were certain we’d come back to our comfortable home—the one we once took for granted.

Now, with all the turmoil, uncertainty and darkness, we feel that we are out of breath, out of reality, out of humanity. We feel that our mind is clouded, and our spirit is suffocated. I hope that one day, we begin to feel human again, to rebuild what was broken, to feel safe, to dream of returning home, to reclaim our justice, and to smile once more.

It’s a tough journey in these challenging times. Hope and faith are our most powerful forces—keeping us grounded, compassionate, and guiding us toward the light we’ve always longed for. They will be our anchors and our inspiration, driving us to reach for that light. To pursue beauty and tranquility. To work toward healing. To build a better Lebanon.

If you enjoyed this read, you might also like: Mhaibib: A Historic Village Wiped Out in Seconds.

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