Black day.

So far, we have:

Two terror attacks in Rannana.

Two terror attacks in J-M

Two persons died of their injuries.

I've lost count, I'm afraid, of the number of sever injuries.

And it's not even 11.

I say that the third Intifada is in high gear.

A country with PTSD

It’s like a dark cloud dimming everything. This pall, this feeling of a weight which comes from nowhere, goes nowhere and can’t be pushed off.Choking your breath.

Last year for example. I recall the first time I’ve heard about the 3 missing boys. A sense of darkness. A dark cloud, everywhere.

I’m having even more trouble sleeping lately - and it’s not that I sleep enough as it is. My back is hurting so bad,as well as my wrist, that I feel intense nausea. I could not eat today. It was hard to move myself, even though I’ve been avoiding reading, hearing or watching the news as assiduously as possible. I still hear things from random people at random times.

And today, all day, my head was flooded with flashbacks from the homicide bombing in bus 37. The attack that took the life of 18 children. Including a girl I dearly loved, Liz.

We are a nation with PTSD and endemic depression. It carves its marks deep into us. We don’t give up, we fight, sometimes even lash out, and then we cry alone in the dark recesses or listen to the old songs of war and blood and pain and pretend to smile at the memories.

This isn’t a cry for help, just a sharing. We are what we are, and we win with what we have, as always.