One year ago, when it all happened, I was slipping in and out of consciousness. I had a severe reaction to cancer treatment that nearly took my life. People were whispering to me about terrorists in Israel, but it did not register. I had no idea what was happening. I was not responding or talking. Why were people whispering and looking so distressed? Why was my daughter calling from Tel Aviv and crying hysterically? I vaguely recall my brother pacing, looking pale and worried. I had to claw my way back from the brink of death to fully grasp what took place on October 7th.
When I was living in New York in the 1980s, in an attempt to understand my connection to Israel, I consulted a psychic. My father was a Holocaust survivor, but growing up I do not remember him sharing much about it. We were not religious—public schools, no kosher diet, and synagogue twice a year for the Holidays. We were typical reform Jews. So why, when I visited Israel at age 15, did I feel an overwhelming need to kiss the ground?
The psychic suggested that in a past life I was persecuted for being Jewish. My bond with Israel, she said, was about healing that pain and now living boldly in the Jewish homeland.
It was the only explanation that ever made sense to me.
On October 7th we were persecuted.
I have been a consulting psychiatrist for the survivors of October 7th. One by one, I bear witness to their stories. These are not my typical patients. They had no prior psychiatric history or family history of mental illness. Their trauma started on that day. Tragically, they have waited almost a year to see a psychiatrist. It is like working in an emergency room or a field hospital, with that sense of urgency. This is the most meaningful work I have ever done in my career as a healer.
Today, one year later, I am staying close to home. I am afraid to go out. I hear sirens and explosions from my kitchen window as I write this. We have been warned about attacks today and have been told to avoid large gatherings.
The war is not over. The devastation continues on both sides to no one’s advantage. There are still 101 hostages held in Gaza, dead or alive. People from the north are unable to return home. Just yesterday, 10 soldiers were laid to rest. We have been protesting the government every week for two years. Our faith in the state to protect us has been shattered. The people are wonderful. The leadership is abominable. To this day Netanyahu has not accepted any responsibility for this massacre.
Israeli producer Muli Segev aptly notes, “Especially in Tel Aviv, we go about our lives, and we don’t think about the fact that our lives are really just pauses between wars and explosions of violence.”
Often we do not fully grasp our level of stress until we step away. We have not stepped away yet.
I am planning to leave for Australia in two days, assuming the flight is not cancelled.
Living in a country at war has been challenging. Leaving will bring its own difficulties. It is hard for others to understand what we have been through. Of course leaving loved ones behind in this chaotic country is painful.
We are a nation fighting for survival. We follow the Home Front Command directives because our lives depend on it. Despite our political disagreements, we are unified in this compliance. Outside of Israel, anti-Semitism is pervasive. I appreciate being in a country where Jews are not hated. My dad said it was the one place where he did not feel the monkey on his back.
I hold on to the hope that, like those who survived the holocaust, we will heal and find our way back to a semblance of normalcy. Many Holocaust survivors displayed remarkable resilience, living long and fulfilling lives. That is the vision I cling to now.
No matter how awful it is here right now, we have no other country.
💔🇮🇱 Dr. Anna Kopolovič