BEIRUT: Fears of a escalation in violence between Israel and Hezbollah are leaving many Lebanese anxious, worsening mental health issues and rekindling trauma from past conflicts in the war-torn country.
A 29-year-old woman living near the southern city of Sidon said she was terrified by the deafening blasts of Israeli planes that regularly break the sound barrier.
“I feel like the house is going to collapse on me… Sometimes I freeze… or cry,” said the woman, a contract worker at an NGO.
She was 11 years old when Israeli and Lebanese militant group Hezbollah went to war in the summer of 2006, and she says bombs fell near her home.
“Sometimes you just remember without realizing it,” the woman said, speaking on condition of anonymity in a country where mental health is often stigmatized.
“These sounds make you think of the past. Sometimes you feel like you’ve traveled back in time,” she said.
Since the October 7 Hamas attack on Israel, which sparked the Gaza War, Hezbollah has launched near-daily cross-border attacks against the Israeli military in support of Palestinian militants, further escalating tensions.
Lebanon has been on edge since an attack on Beirut's southern suburbs last week killed a top Hezbollah commander, hours before the assassination in Tehran of Hamas political leader Ismail Haniyeh, which was blamed on Israel.
Iran and Hezbollah have vowed revenge amid fears a retaliatory attack could escalate into a full-scale war, with airlines suspending flights to Lebanon and countries urging foreign nationals to leave the group.
“I already suffer from anxiety and depression… but my mental health has been getting worse,” the woman said in October, as she could no longer afford therapy as her work was delayed by the conflict.
“You feel scared about the future,” she said.
Before the 2006 Israel-Hezbollah war, Lebanon suffered a brutal civil conflict from 1975 to 1990, in which Israel invaded the south and in 1982 besieged Beirut.
Cross-border violence has now killed more than 560 people in Lebanon, mostly fighters, but also at least 116 civilians, according to an AFP tally.
On the Israeli side, including the annexed Golan Heights, 22 soldiers and 26 civilians were killed, according to military figures.
“Accumulated stress” is causing many Lebanese to suffer from stress, anxiety, depression and post-traumatic stress disorder, said Laila Farhoud, a professor of psychiatry and mental health at the American University of Beirut.
“People pass on their anxieties to their children in the form of intergenerational trauma,” she told AFP.
“What’s happening now is triggering past trauma,” which has some people panicking, said Farhood, an expert on war injuries and the effects on Lebanese civilians.
On Tuesday, an Israeli plane broke the sound barrier over central Beirut, sending blasts so loud that they shook windows and nerves, just two days after the 2020 anniversary of a massive explosion at Beirut's port.
“I had my first panic attack,” said Charbel Chaya, 23, who studied law in France and lives with her family near Beirut.
“I couldn’t breathe, my legs were numb… In the first moment, you could barely tell what the sound was, just like what happened on August 4,” he said.
Layal Hamze of Embrace, a nonprofit that runs a mental health center and suicide prevention hotline, said people in Lebanon are now “more receptive to voices.”
“Generally, the adrenaline is already high, it’s a stressful situation,” says clinical psychologist Hamze.
“It’s not just the Beirut bombings,” Hamze added.
“The natural or automatic response” is fear, she said, and while “maybe older people … are more familiar with the sounds,” they can trigger “collective trauma.”
A number of social media users have called on people to stop setting off fireworks, a common celebratory tradition, while also sharing funny clips poking fun at issues such as flight cancellations.
Because coping mechanisms vary so much, some people “go to parties,” while others “reach out more to their community,” which helps them feel less alone, Hamze said.
Andrea Fahed, a 28-year-old dancer whose apartment was damaged in the port bombing, said she was terrified when she heard the loud explosion this week.
She says she feels “lucky” to be a dancer because when she’s with her community, “we laugh together, we move together… we let go of a lot of things.”
But she says the “uncertainty” is a long battle and she now leaves the window open, fearing another blast could destroy everything.
“Anything can happen,” Fahed said.
“If it was that bad in Gaza, why didn’t it happen here?”
