The fog of the day after

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8 month(s) ago
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The fog of the day after

 

Ceasefire.

The moment we all wanted. The skies opened, schools reopened, cafés filled, parties resumed. Just like that, we were told: go back to normal.

But my body didn’t get the memo.

I woke up the next day to a fog that wouldn’t lift. Not sadness exactly. Not anxiety.

Just… fog. A weight behind the eyes. A kind of emotional jetlag from a journey my mind couldn’t quite map.

Was it just me? I started asking. I should be happy, after all. No more rockets and runs to safe rooms.

Turns out, it wasn’t only me. So many people were walking through the same fog. Drifting. Trying to re-enter life, but not quite landing.

Because how do you flip the switch, just like that?

After two weeks of threat, tension, uncertainty, loss. After missiles, safe rooms. After scrolling for news updates every five minutes. After not knowing if your child will sleep through the night, or run.

And let’s be clear… What are we going back to, exactly?

This “normal” is anything but normal. We’ve been living in a suspended war for nearly two years. Still counting the hostages. Still watching borders. Still waiting for the other shoe, or the next siren, to drop.

Yes, we’re grateful. Grateful to breathe without checking the news.

Grateful that our kids are no longer diving under desks. Grateful to not feel constant, imminent danger.

And still—grieving. Because the ending wasn’t an ending. It was a pause.

Sometimes, what we really need is not just quiet. Not just schools resuming or coffee shops reopening. But a real ending. To the fear, to the uncertainty, to the losses, to the waiting.

We need a proper ending. And we’re still holding on until it comes.

Because the truth is, in life too, not everything ends neatly. Sometimes things shift suddenly, without warning, and we’re left in the fog of change—processing what just happened while the world tells us to move on.

In the meantime, there’s hope. There’s laughter, coming back in soft bursts. There’s strength, showing up in ordinary moments. There’s kindness, woven into the fabric of this fog.

And that’s where I’ll meet you— In the quiet, in the waiting, in the hope.

Am Yisrael Chai 🇮🇱

 

 

 

 

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