Between Siege and Hope: When the Work Becomes a Lifeline
In times when paths are blocked and options narrow, bearing witness to suffering becomes a duty—and practicing your profession becomes a deep, personal commitment far beyond routine.
In this edition, we share a voice from the frontlines—one of the clinical psychologists at the Treatment and Rehabilitation Center for Victims of Torture. She reflects on her personal and professional journey amidst the escalating violence, political instability in Palestine, and the ongoing Israeli assault.
"Before being a therapist, I am first and foremost a human being."
For over ten years, this psychologist has been offering psychological and social support to survivors of violence, detention, and trauma—through individual and group sessions, workshops for women and children, and field-based psychological assessments. Her schedule is part of an intensive daily program.
But under current conditions, simply carrying out this work has become a daily challenge—and often, an impossible task.
Since the war on Gaza began in 2023 and escalated through 2024 and 2025, daily life has been turned upside down. Living in the village of Al-Janiya, west of Ramallah, she now faces military checkpoints, roadblocks, and daily risks just to reach her workplace. Every morning, she confronts the same uncertainty:
"Will I make it to work today? Will I come back home safely?"
"Each day I head out, I don’t know if I’ll reach my destination—or make it back."
Recently, the roads have been completely sealed off. The gates are locked; movement is impossible. But rather than stop, she adapted—shifting her services to wherever she could reach: nearby villages, phone consultations, and doing the best she could with the limited resources at hand.
Despite all the challenges, she remains committed to her humanitarian role—even while battling the psychological toll and constant anxiety over her loved ones, especially elderly and ill family members who can no longer access medical care due to road closures and collective punishment.
"Sometimes I feel I have no strength left to offer—but I hold on to hope."
She shares:
“We’re living in extraordinary times. It’s natural to feel exhausted, to be afraid, to feel worn down. But we keep going—because our continued care is a form of resistance. If we stop, who will be there for the people?”
In her closing message to the community, she offers words filled with compassion and hope:
"Don’t be ashamed of your emotions. Don’t hesitate to ask for help. Stay connected with your loved ones, and allow yourself moments of rest. Resilience isn’t about being endlessly strong—it’s about continuing, even when it hurts."
And to the Palestinian people, she concludes:
"You are not alone. Together, we endure—for dignity, for healing, for life."
Together, toward a healing that is possible—and a humanity that cannot be broken.
