Broken Bonds, Altered Minds
iframe{max-width:100% !important;} img{height:auto !important; max-width:100% !important;} Leila Sfeir
A generation of Lebanese parents spent their childhood and teenage years surrounded by conflict, carrying the hope that the violence, the fear and the uncertainty would end with their generation. They lived through displacement and instability in the hopes that future generations would inherit a safer more stable environment.
Yet today, many find themselves watching their sons and daughters face the same anxieties; consequently, they are once again hearing explosions, hoping their loved ones are safe and living the constant stress conflict brings.For the Lebanese people war isn’t only a painful memory but a reality that has resurfaced causing younger generations to hate their country. While the destruction of villages and communities are visible, the emotional impact on children and teens are often hidden.
War can alter a young person’s mind, the way they process emotions, respond to danger, and build trust with others, leaving everlasting consequences.The first time the war returned, a heavy silence settled over Lebanon, as though the country had forgotten how to breathe. Disbelief hung in the air. Families who had come back believing they were returning home wondered if they had made a mistake, while those who had never left watched with a familiar sense of dread.They had seen this story before. The names, dates, and circumstances may have changed, but the fear felt the same. It made the Lebanese people realize peace in this country wasn’t a possibility it was a dream.Our parents tried to hide it from us but they were just as scared as us not for them, but for what we were going to experience, for the constant fear we were about to live and how much we were going to sacrifice.In the first month we were shocked, scared, every headline felt unreal, every explosion sent waves of panic through our homes.
By month three, the fear would follow us in our sleep causing nightmares and restless nights.By the sixth month, something even more troubling had happened; we had grown used to it. The sounds that once terrified us became a part of our daily lives. But even in the silence, we could not find peace. Because when we didn’t hear anything, we felt that something worse was coming. The absence of sound no longer meant safety it meant waiting. We were lucky that we could still go to school, as our area remained relatively safe. Still, we could hear what was happening around us, and fear slowly began to affect our sense of the future. We lost motivation to study, and our grades began to drop. Even during exams, we would sit in classrooms while bombings were taking place in other regions, with the violence feeling as if it was getting closer to Beirut every day.
The pressure became overwhelming. Between the war, school, friends, and family responsibilities, it was difficult to keep up with anything. Everything felt exhausting, and it became harder to focus on our education while constantly worrying about what might happen next.A year after the war ended, we were back to normal but even that felt strange. At the end of the day, we had to accept the fact that we experienced this and that it made us stronger more resilient with a bit of hidden scars. Little did we know not long after we would relive it.
When the war returned the fear didn’t because it was something we experienced before, if we did it once what’s one more time right. This time, it didn’t last as long as the first war, but it cut deeper. It hurt more because we understood it differently. We knew that even if we were not directly in harm’s way, others were. One of the worst feelings was knowing that people we cared about were in or near danger zones, and there was nothing we could do. The second time the war came around, it felt like nowhere was truly safe, every place felt exposed, every area felt like it could be next.
A generation of Lebanese parents spent their childhood and teenage years surrounded by conflict, carrying the hope that the violence, the fear and the uncertainty would end with their generation. They lived through displacement and instability in the hopes that future generations would inherit a safer more stable environment.
Yet today, many find themselves watching their sons and daughters face the same anxieties; consequently, they are once again hearing explosions, hoping their loved ones are safe and living the constant stress conflict brings.For the Lebanese people war isn’t only a painful memory but a reality that has resurfaced causing younger generations to hate their country. While the destruction of villages and communities are visible, the emotional impact on children and teens are often hidden.
War can alter a young person’s mind, the way they process emotions, respond to danger, and build trust with others, leaving everlasting consequences.The first time the war returned, a heavy silence settled over Lebanon, as though the country had forgotten how to breathe. Disbelief hung in the air. Families who had come back believing they were returning home wondered if they had made a mistake, while those who had never left watched with a familiar sense of dread.They had seen this story before. The names, dates, and circumstances may have changed, but the fear felt the same. It made the Lebanese people realize peace in this country wasn’t a possibility it was a dream.Our parents tried to hide it from us but they were just as scared as us not for them, but for what we were going to experience, for the constant fear we were about to live and how much we were going to sacrifice.In the first month we were shocked, scared, every headline felt unreal, every explosion sent waves of panic through our homes.
By month three, the fear would follow us in our sleep causing nightmares and restless nights.By the sixth month, something even more troubling had happened; we had grown used to it. The sounds that once terrified us became a part of our daily lives. But even in the silence, we could not find peace. Because when we didn’t hear anything, we felt that something worse was coming. The absence of sound no longer meant safety it meant waiting. We were lucky that we could still go to school, as our area remained relatively safe. Still, we could hear what was happening around us, and fear slowly began to affect our sense of the future. We lost motivation to study, and our grades began to drop. Even during exams, we would sit in classrooms while bombings were taking place in other regions, with the violence feeling as if it was getting closer to Beirut every day.
The pressure became overwhelming. Between the war, school, friends, and family responsibilities, it was difficult to keep up with anything. Everything felt exhausting, and it became harder to focus on our education while constantly worrying about what might happen next.A year after the war ended, we were back to normal but even that felt strange. At the end of the day, we had to accept the fact that we experienced this and that it made us stronger more resilient with a bit of hidden scars. Little did we know not long after we would relive it.
When the war returned the fear didn’t because it was something we experienced before, if we did it once what’s one more time right. This time, it didn’t last as long as the first war, but it cut deeper. It hurt more because we understood it differently. We knew that even if we were not directly in harm’s way, others were. One of the worst feelings was knowing that people we cared about were in or near danger zones, and there was nothing we could do. The second time the war came around, it felt like nowhere was truly safe, every place felt exposed, every area felt like it could be next.