BEIRUT: Fears of a major escalation between Israel and Hezbollah have left many Lebanese on edge, exacerbating psychological problems and reviving trauma from past conflicts in the war-weary country.
A 29-year-old woman, who lives near the southern city of Sidon, said she feared the thunderous, explosive boom of Israeli jets that regularly break the sound barrier.
“I feel like the house is going to fall on me… Sometimes I freeze… or start crying,” said the woman, a contract worker for an NGO.
She was 11 when Israel and the Lebanese militant group Hezbollah went to war in the summer of 2006, and said bombs fell near her house.
“Sometimes, unconsciously, you remember it,” the woman said, requesting anonymity in a country where mental health issues are often stigmatized.
“These sounds give you flashbacks — sometimes you feel like you're back at that time,” she said.
Since Hamas' October 7 attack on Israel sparked the Gaza war, Hezbollah has traded near-daily cross-border fire with the Israeli army to support the Palestinian militant group, sending tensions soaring.
Lebanon has been on edge since an attack on Beirut's southern suburbs last week killed Hezbollah's top military commander, just hours before the assassination, blamed on Israel, of Hamas political leader Ismail Haniyeh in Tehran.
Iran and Hezbollah have vowed revenge, amid fears that retaliatory attacks could lead to all-out war, with airlines suspending flights to Lebanon and countries asking foreign nationals to leave.
“I had already suffered from anxiety and depression… but my mental health has deteriorated” since October, said the woman, who can no longer afford therapy as her work has slowed due to the hostilities.
“You feel afraid of the future,” she said.
Before the 2006 Israel-Hezbollah war, Lebanon endured a grueling civil conflict from 1975-1990 in which Israel invaded the south and in 1982 besieged Beirut.
The current cross-border violence has killed more than 560 people in Lebanon, most of them fighters but also at least 116 civilians, according to an AFP report.
On the Israeli side, including in the annexed Golan Heights, 22 soldiers and 26 civilians have been killed, according to army figures.
Laila Farhood, a professor of psychiatry and mental health at the American University of Beirut, said “cumulative trauma” has left many Lebanese with stress, anxiety, depression and post-traumatic stress disorder.
“Individuals transmit their anxiety to their children as trauma across the generations,” she told AFP.
“What's happening now triggers past trauma,” which causes some people to have panic attacks, said Farhood, who specializes in war trauma and its impact on Lebanese civilians.
On Tuesday, Israeli jets breached the sound barrier over central Beirut, causing intense sonic booms that rattled windows and nerves, just two days after the anniversary of a catastrophic explosion in Beirut's port in 2020.
“I had my first panic attack,” said Charbel Chaaya, 23, who studies law in France and lives with her family near Beirut.
“I couldn't breathe, my legs felt numb… at the very first moment you don't know what the sound is – just like what happened on August 4,” he said.
Layal Hamze of Embrace, a nonprofit organization that runs a mental health center and suicide prevention hotline, said people in Lebanon are now “more receptive to all sounds.”
“Baseline, the adrenaline is already high. It's a stressful situation,” says Hamze, a clinical psychologist.
“It's not just the explosion in Beirut,” Hamze added.
“The natural or automatic response” is to be afraid, she said, and while “maybe the older generation … is a little more used to” such sounds, they can trigger “the collective trauma.”
Some on social media have urged people to stop setting off fireworks – a common practice at parties – while humorous sketches addressing difficulties such as canceled flights have also circulated.
With coping mechanisms that vary widely, others “go partying,” while others “reach out to the community more,” which helps them feel like they're not alone, Hamze said.
Dancer Andrea Fahed, 28, whose apartment was damaged in the port blast, said she panicked when she heard the sounds of the week.
She said she felt “lucky” to be a dancer, because with her community, “we laugh together, we move together… you let go of a lot of things.”
But she said the “uncertainty” was a constant struggle and now leaves her windows open, fearing another explosion could shatter everything.
“Anything can happen,” Fahed said.
“If it's happening with that intensity in Gaza, why wouldn't it come here?”
