a month after Hamas attacks in Israel, survivors and relatives of hostages are plunged into “endless anxiety”

“First there were the sirens alerting us to the rockets, then I heard shots.” Monica Biboso’s story accelerates, a sign of the fear she experienced in Be’eri (Israel) on October 7. That Saturday, Hamas terrorist attacks more than 100 victims in this kibbutz, and more than 1,400 deaths in Israel, according to the authorities. The World Health Organization (WHO) recently warned about the“immense suffering” linked to the attacks and “the need”, for many, “urgent support”.

Monica Biboso precisely retraces the course of the attack. “I have fed my patient and took her to our bomb shelter”, describes the Filipino caregiver, resident of kibbutz Be’eri since 2020. “I looked out the shelter window and saw terrorists running. My whole body was shaking.” Behind a door that she manages to block, the thirty-year-old hears what sounds like grenades, then the incessant shots of men trying to enter her refuge. She gives her patient powerful sleeping pills, hoping to limit her memories of the horror. When smoke escapes, she understands that the attackers are trying to set the house on fire. The air becomes unbreathable, in an already asphyxiating heat. For sixteen endless hours, “I wondered how we were going to survive“, she whispers.

“A psychologist told us that this trauma would be lifelong.”

Monica Biboso, survivor of the October 7 attacks

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Natal, an organization specializing in the treatment of trauma, has been on the front lines of this crisis for a month. The NGO received 11,000 calls in three weeks, compared to an average of 24,000 per year previously. “We asked our volunteers, current and former, to give us more time, more hours, reports Emi Palmor, head of the NGO. There has never been anything like this in Israel.”

“They keep reliving October 7”

In the days following the attack, the fear never left Monica Biboso. “I wasn’t sleeping, I wasn’t eating. I couldn’t be alone for a minute,” illustrates the caregiver, housed with other kibbutz survivors in a hotel overlooking the Dead Sea. Every hour that passed, images of the attack resurfaced. Like these houses burned to the ground, these bodies lying in the streets of the kibbutz or these shots at the window of the shelter, while she tried to breathe fresh air. So many terrible moments engraved in his memory.

“These people are sinking into a kind of black hole. They keep reliving October 7th. It’s something deeply rooted in them.” notes psychoanalyst Merav Roth, specialist in grief and trauma management. For two weeks, the Israeli worked with some 800 Be’eri survivors, with the help of 40 volunteer therapists. “It was crucial to intervene very quickly, first in the first 48 hours, then during the first month, to prevent the formation of post-traumatic stress.”

“The anxiety is very high among these people. There is terrible grief and agony. People are filled with helplessness, hurt, and survivor’s guilt is omnipresent.”

Merav Roth, psychoanalyst

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Some survivors, Merav Roth continues, are shaken by impossible dilemmas. Parents had to choose between helping their spouse or their children. Others, in a burning house, didn’t know if they would save their children by letting them out the window – they might be killed outside. Situations “beyond understanding”.

In an emergency, Merav Roth and his colleagues tried to “connect” these Israelis bruised by the slightest positive element. Faced with flashbacks, they tried to talk about the present and the future. “I told the survivors: ‘Don’t feel guilty if you laugh, if you enjoy a meal. By doing this, you open the way to good feelings, and that is your medicine.'” , develops the psychoanalyst.

Daily listening to psychologists and numerous activities, including yoga, drawing and music, gradually relieved Monica Biboso. Her visions of the attack are less frequent, the fear of being alone fades and sleep returns. Talking to loved ones and thinking about happy memories is the most comforting. “But we are not healed, warns the caregiver, her voice breaking. I want to forget everything. But how can we stop thinking about it?”

For relatives of hostages, terrible uncertainty

From his discussions with Be’eri survivors, Merav Roth also remembers these terrible stories from relatives of hostages in Gaza. According to the Israeli army, 241 people remain detained by Hamas in the Palestinian enclave, a month after their kidnapping in Israel. “Not knowing is the worst, underlines the psychoanalyst. The mind cannot tolerate it.”

Tal Haimi, 42, lived four kilometers from Gaza when the terrorists entered Israeli soil. Having left to defend his kibbutz, he has not given any sign of life since 8 a.m. on October 7. “His phone was traced to Gaza,” relates his cousin, Udi Goren. The family, which was used to meeting at the kibbutz, is as if frozen. “We are almost certain he is in Gaza, but we don’t know where.”

“We don’t know if he’s injured, how he’s doing. We don’t know anything. Is he alive? Is he being treated well?”

Udi Goren, close to a hostage

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This “endless anxiety” grows over the weeks and over a long-term war. In Gaza, it has already killed more than 10,000 people, almost half of whom were children, says the Hamas Ministry of Health. An assessment impossible to substantiate, due to lack of an independent source on site. “With each day that passes, the chances of finding the hostages alive diminish,” worries Udi Goren.

According to therapists, loved ones of hostages are currently experiencing an “ambiguous loss”, a concept theorized by the American Pauline Boss, professor emeritus at the University of Minnesota. “It is a loss that is not clear, for example the disappearance of a loved one. You don’t know if this person will come back. You cannot move forward, and you are unable to grieve.”develops the author of the book Ambiguous Loss: learning to live with unresolved grief.

Rivka Tuval-Mashiach, who works with Natal and supports hostage families in particular, is convinced that the notion of “ambiguous loss” best describes the situation of these loved ones left in the unknown. “It’s been a month, imagine if it lasts a year or two”, underlines the psychologist and professor at Bar-Ilan University. In these cases, the collective is the first remedy. “People [évacués] are together at the hotel. This is a very important source of support. Closely-knit communities tend to heal more quickly.” notes the psychologist. Tal Haimi’s father is holding on thanks to this. “He told us how much he appreciated being with his community in these terrible times,” says Udi Goren.

In Israel, “everyone was affected”

Beyond the communities attacked, an entire country is today upset. Rivka Tuval-Mashiach speaks of a “shared reality” between Israelis. In this small state which has around 9 million inhabitants, “we all feel exposed to missiles, we all know someone in the army or who has been a victim… Everyone feels very connected to the massacres and the war”, illustrates the specialist.

On October 7, Yaël and his family were in a miraculously spared kibbutz, near Sderot. “The terrorists tried to return, there were exchanges of fire with men responsible for our security, and they continued on their way,” says the Franco-Israeli, who spent part of her youth in this community. Others, among Yaël’s acquaintances, were not so lucky. One of her former classmates was killed along with her husband and their two children. Another friend, in Kfar Aza, was taken hostage with three of her children. Her husband and their eldest daughter did not survive.

“Across the country, everyone has been affected. Everyone I know is affected. People are devastated by the atrocities, and they are literally holding their breath.”

Yaël, Franco-Israeli survivor

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Back in Tel Aviv, psychoanalyst Merav Roth receives patients in her clinic “terrorized”, like an Israeli company “in panic”. “Every hour I hear psychotic scenarios. People imagine Hamas attackers arriving by parachute and entering their homes. They show their children places where they can hide,” she notices. The scale of the assault and the war that followed shattered any sense of security. “The whole society is traumatized.”