If you told me years ago that I would experience war first-hand, I wouldn't believe you. But when the Iran-Israel war began lasting only 12 days, but feeling like a lifetime, everything changed. Fear and anxiety wouldn't leave my side, not just for myself. But for my family, our home and the simple life I would always take for granted. The videos and images I had seen of Gaza and Palestinians suffering suddenly did not feel distant anymore. They were all I could think about. Is this happening to us now? Will we become just another news story?
One of the hardest things during those days was realizing how many unresolved relationships I had. There were friends I had lost touch with and family members I wanted to reconnect with, but I always told myself I would handle it later, thinking I was too busy. Yet war does not care about "later". The fear of losing someone before making things right scared me more than the bombs. It was a painful reminder that time isn't guaranteed, and regret is a heavy burden to carry.
My anxiety, which I already struggled with, escalated. Panic attacks became a daily fight. I couldn't sleep, eat or focus. Every loud noise made me freeze. The news cycle felt like a trap. I couldn't look away, but watching made everything harder.
Then, reality struck even closer. A building near ours was hit. I will never forget the thick black smoke in the sky, the smell of burning and the chaos. Later, news broke about the bombing in Tajrish, where many women and children were killed. The blast was so strong it broke water pipes, leaving us without running water for days. The grief and anger I felt were heavy. This was no longer just something I saw on a screen, it was here in my city , in my life.
We left Tehran for a few days at my mom's insistence. But eventually, we had to return. In the end, we were lucky. No one in our family was hurt, our home was still standing, but luck does not erase fear, and survival does not mean unchanged.
The war altered me in ways I am still coming to terms with. I care more about Palestinians' suffering now, not just as a political issue, but as a human one, Loud noises startle me easily. A car backfiring or construction sounds trigger my body to react as if it is a threat. Going days without water made me realize how quickly basic necessities can vanish. Most importantly, I now understand how fragile life is. War does not announce itself. It doesn't care about plans. That truth could have led me to despair, but instead, it pushed me to live more fully, to love harder, and to stop putting off what matters. I don't know what the future holds , but those twelve days thought me this hold on to the people you love, fight for what matter and never assume tomorrow will be the same as today. War changes you. The real question is what you do with that change.
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