Lebanon is often celebrated for its resilience, but this label oversimplifies a much more painful reality. What we’re experiencing isn’t just resilience—it’s a state of Continuous Traumatic Stress (CTS), a condition where danger and violence aren’t fleeting but ever-present. When living in a constant state of threat, our energy is diverted toward survival, with everything else—especially emotions—pushed aside. Feelings become secondary, replaced by the urgent need to solve the endless crises that surround us.

Current hostilities are not just another event in a long history of turmoil. The sonic booms of planes breaking sound barriers painfully echoed the Beirut port explosion of 2020, while the current bombings of cities are reminiscent of previous wars, reminding us how deeply trauma lingers. As these cycles of violence, political unrest, and economic hardship repeat, we’re left wondering: How much more stress can we endure before breaking? How will this trauma shape future generations? And, crucially, how can therapy address a trauma that never ends?

For those in Lebanon, fear and confusion have become constant companions. Meanwhile, the Lebanese diaspora, who mostly left out of necessity, are also grappling with the weight of this ongoing crisis. Living far from home, many feel powerless, disconnected, and overwhelmed. They turn to news feeds to stay informed but end up consumed by a never-ending stream of distressing updates. Expats, working for corporations that champion mental health on the surface, may find little support when the conflict they’re living through doesn’t attract tangible concern. This lack of genuine support deepens the sense of isolation and vulnerability.

In response to continuous trauma, negative coping mechanisms emerge, with some being more evident, such as anger, denial, panic, depression, violence, and substance abuse. Others are subtler but just as harmful, appearing at different stages and intervals. The Lebanese are frequently portrayed as a people who find solace in over-partying, living as if there is no tomorrow, or immersing themselves in constant distractions. These behaviors, although appearing as a way to reclaim joy, mask the deep pain of living in a perpetual state of uncertainty and fear. Maladaptive coping mechanisms span all socioeconomic backgrounds, uniting populations in shared, often unspoken suffering. In many ways, these coping strategies are integral to survival. Sadly, CTS may be the one thing that binds Lebanese, a collective wound we all carry.

Yet, there is no simple formula for enduring continuous trauma. We still don’t fully understand the long-term impact of living in survival mode, the toll it takes on our bodies, or the ways this trauma will be passed down to future generations. What we do know is that the need for self-care has never been more crucial. It’s not just about surviving another wave of violence—it’s about preserving our mental and emotional well-being in the face of relentless adversity.

At this very moment, we find ourselves once again plunged into the heart of trauma, as hostilities rage on, causing destruction, loss of life, and triggering yet another wave of population displacement. Our survival instincts sharpen, and while that may keep us going, it’s not enough. We must give ourselves permission to rest, to heal, and to hope for a life beyond the cycles of trauma. Resilience should not mean enduring endless suffering. In fact, being labeled as “resilient” can feel almost insulting, as it downplays the depth of our pain and the complexity of our experiences. It’s time to acknowledge this pain and work towards a genuine and lasting peace, where we can finally break free from the chains of continuous trauma and reclaim our right to live without fear.