We are NOT OK (But That's OK)

by Avigail Gimpel,  M.S., special educator, family practitioner, mom of six children diagnosed with ADHD, and author of the Hyper Healing book series at https://www.hyperhealing.org/

Ask any Israeli how they’re doing right now, and you’ll likely be met with a pause, a long breath, or a tired smile. The words just don’t come easily. Because the truth is—we are not OK. We’re struggling. The so-called 12dayWar may have officially ended, but the trauma remains deeply embedded in our bodies, in our hearts.

Our leaders declared victory and urged us to return to normal, but our souls didn’t get that memo. For 12 days and nights, we lived in a heightened state of fear—running to shelters at every hour, especially in the dark, when sleep should have been our refuge. Our phones became possessed by the Homefront Command—flashing, dinging, screaming like a modern-day dibbuk. Our nervousSystems, already raw from the constant thud of bombs from Gaza and air raid sirens warning of incoming rockets from Yemen, now jump at the most innocent sounds. A simple ding. A familiar melody. Even joy has become suspicious.

The world has resumed its rhythm. But here in Israel, our "normal" is anything but. Our sons are still in uniform. Our soldiers are still in battle. We are still burying our friends, our children, our heroes. The grief doesn’t have a pause button.

I tried to reset by taking my daughters to the beach in Ashkelon on Thursday. I lay down on the warm sand and drifted off to sleep—for just an hour. I woke up in #panic, the sound of explosions from nearby Gaza crashing through the waves. My son is there. Just a few hours earlier, a boy from his unit was killed in the final (post-ceasefire) attack from #Iran. “I met him,” my son said softly. “Nice kid.” And now—he, too, is supposed to move on.

This Shabbat, I was at a beautiful bar mitzvah for a special boy named Itiel—“God is with me.” As his mother spoke, I looked around and noticed that every woman in the room was either fighting back tears or had surrendered to them completely. We are raw. We know God is with us. We believe in better times. But right now, we are wide open, exposed, and vulnerable.

So no, we’re not OK. We’re exhausted, heartbroken, anxious, overwhelmed. We’re not sleeping well. We’re eating too much sugar. We’re scrolling for news at all hours, hoping to feel a sense of control. Our minds are racing and our bodies are lagging. But… that’s OK.

Because we are a nation that RiseslikeALion. We’ve done it before. We will do it again. With compassion. With resilience. And with deep, unshakable faith.

Here’s how I’m coping. Maybe it can help you too:

1. Don’t judge—just be. Rest when your body calls for it. Talk to a friend. Let your tears fall. Forgive yourself for not functioning “as usual.” Trust your body. It knows what you need.

2. Use tools that help regulate the nervous system. I’ve been using EmotionAid by GinaRoss and it’s truly made a difference. This simple yet powerful method supports real-time stress relief and emotional release. Try it.

3. If you’re outside of Israel and feeling our pain—reach out. Text a friend here. Call a cousin. Ask how someone is really doing. Don’t underestimate the power of a small act of kindness. It travels miles.

This time reminds me of getting up from shiva. The week itself is intense—crowds, stories, food, connection. Then suddenly, silence. Everyone leaves. But the pain doesn’t. You’re alone, raw, and still aching for support that’s no longer there.

Let’s not leave each other now. Let’s lean in. Let’s hold one another through this fog. Let’s strengthen our emunah, our resolve, our hearts.

We’re not OK. But we will be.

Together, we will rise.