Israeli singer Avraham Tal sings at the funeral for Yitzhak Seitan, 76, his wife, Hannah Seitan, 73, their son, Tal Seitan, 49, and his aunt Pesi Cohen, 68, at the Hod Ha’sharon cemetery, on October 18, 2023 in Hod HaSharon, Israel. (Photo by Alexi J. Rosenfeld/Getty Images) Like many others, I haven’t slept much since October 7. I don’t just mean because of my work; that’s only one reason.
I mean the nightmares.
I can’t unsee the images. Not that I haven’t tried.
They’re too stark. They’re too shocking.
The babies. The dancers in the desert. The families in safe rooms. The toys in the bedrooms. The child crying for his mother. That elderly woman in a wheelchair. Of course, the hostages.
It’s as if all the victims of the October 7 massacres have lodged themselves in my brain, even those I haven’t seen on social media.
And it hurts, not in a physical way, more in a psychic way.
At times, my brain will just freeze and it’s hard to function or think straight.
It’s the images. I can’t unsee them. Even when I sleep.
I read articles about “how to cope” but I really don’t feel like coping. It’s true that keeping busy “in the fight” helps us cope to a certain extent. Gathering articles, covering the story hour to hour, writing and editing– all that activity helps me forget the darkness.
But I can’t forget the images. I can’t unsee them. Even when I sleep.
I know that if I do stuff like practice mindfulness, intentional breathing, go on long walks, etc., I will be stronger for the fight. Stronger for my work. It’s a good argument: Take care of yourself, and you’ll better help Israel.
And yet, part of me prefers the pain. The insomnia. The brain freezes. The debilitating moments of darkness.
The truth is, even if that part of me didn’t prefer the pain, I’m not sure I have a choice. It doesn’t seem to matter what I do.
It’s the images. I can’t unsee them. Even when I sleep.
Maybe grieving over these images is the only way I have of connecting to my “Jewish family” in Israel.
Maybe I just need to suffer a little.
Am Yisrael Chai.
Shabbat shalom.
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