On Monday evening, when the death toll following the dire events in Gaza began to arrive, I sat petrified on a chair on the balcony.
I couldn't think or feel.
My sister, who was with me, noticed that I was out.
She said: "Paula, we have to continue life, it won't end soon, it won't help any family of any fallen soldier if you don't manage to continue."
I answered that I don't think it helps anyone that I sit on a chair on the balcony and cry, I've simply worn out the ability to live alongside the amount of sadness and depression that occurs here.
I asked her to teach me how she does it, because all I can think about right now is the families who are knocking on their doors and tearing down the walls of their heart forever, and it paralyzes me and neutralizes the meaning of any action I'm supposed to do.
What does it matter if the house is tidy?
What do I care if the shipment arrives on time?
My sister said that these are exactly the thoughts that must not be allowed to take over, so that we can continue to function.
A few minutes later I went over the schedule that awaits me the next day: in the morning a lecture at the high school in her room for ninth grade students, in the afternoon a day of filming for the program "What You Say".
It was clear that in the morning they would publish the pictures of these dear people smiling, next to their names and the combination of the letters of the deceased. How exactly will I be able to stand in front of hundreds of 15-year-old boys and girls and talk to them about positive body image and self-confidence on a morning like this? Talk to them about the fact that their bodies are not decorations , whose value is not measured only by the outward appearance, but by what he can do and create? Is it time to talk to them that the fact that they got a hatchkon shouldn't prevent them from feeling that they are worthy of love? Does it really matter now?
Confidence, and myself
In the middle of all the endless WhatsApp correspondence between friends that occurs every time Telegram announces a "serious event in Gaza", I asked my group of friends what they think I should do about the lecture: maybe call and ask to postpone the lecture on scientific ways to strengthen self-confidence?
Because what does self-confidence have to do with everything now when everything is so sad?
Before self-confidence there should be normal confidence.
simple.
One that allows us to tell the children that they can go to sleep in their bed until morning and no one will snatch them from it.
My friend Naama wrote me something clever, which managed to change the perspective regarding the morning lecture, which is seemingly disconnected from the situation:
"Consider that this is your mission these days, that you are helping many parents who currently do not have free time or the ability to pay attention to their body image and what their children feel because they are too busy, and you are currently lending a helping hand, now with all the emotional eating, etc., this is a really important issue."
Here, although I told my sister a few minutes before that I don't know how to continue, it seems that with a little support I do know.
It seems we all know, if we agree to sit back and consult.
The strongest force in the world is movement, the force of survival and life.
As soon as Naama connected me to the unique meaning that I am able to give even now, the ability to get up from the chair returned to me.
The feeling changed from a desire to stare at the Instagram feed in order not to think - to a desire to find a way to ease even a little, for a little while, the confrontation of teenagers, at the most fragile and sensitive age, with the unbearable Israeli reality.
All the more for them, growing up that they still lack the perspective that gives knowledge that there will be better times, or as Tuna says: "This too shall pass."
I sat down and began to change the opening of the lecture to suit the situation.
And here, even though I thought I had no strength for life itself - I found it.
So it's true, although after I finished the task I again fell into despondency and endless browsing on the nets, I read that someone wrote that maybe if we don't go to sleep, we won't wake up to the Gospels of Job that await us at dawn.
My friend Hila wrote on WhatsApp that maybe all this is just fake news, because they haven't said anything yet in the official media.
Each of us is looking for a way to delay in a few moments the realization that disasters have been a daily reality for too long, and that the end point is not clear.
We fall and get up several times a day, every day.
I woke up the next day after very few hours of sleep to the never-ending list of names that was difficult to contain.
On the way to Hadera High School it started to rain in torrents.
It was a suitable soundtrack for this trip, I didn't even feel like listening to music and certainly didn't dare to turn on the radio.
The constant and rapid rhythm of the raindrops beating on the glass pane comforted me in a way I could not explain.
Coffee and a smile
When I arrived at the lecture hall he greeted me with a calm face, he came out with an umbrella so that I wouldn't get wet walking from the car.
I told him that the most important thing for me is that first we connect the computer and check that the presentation works.
He laughed and said "Don't be stressed, don't worry, we'll sort everything out soon. Before that, can I make you some coffee?"
"No, first we'll make sure everything works."
We connected the cables, and meanwhile Shlomi proudly told me that he has been in charge of the school hall for 20 years.
I wanted to give him a hug and thank him for the umbrella and the coffee and the smile, but I knew it would look weird.
"So which coffee do you want, Yemeni or Romanian?"
Obviously I chose Yemeni.
What is Romanian coffee anyway?
I stood behind the scenes to wait for the students, after a few minutes Shlomi returned with hot coffee and also an old-fashioned waffle, made by "Man" with a blue wrapper that reminded me of birthday parties in elementary school.
After the waffle I could no longer hold back and asked for a selfie, him, me and the waffle.
"No, don't embarrass me," but I insisted and he agreed.
When the lecture began, I shared with the students the confusion from the night, and that thanks to a friend I realized that I wanted to come to meet them even on a day like this, that the war does not eliminate the difficulties they experience in adolescence, even the opposite.
All of us, adults, have less energy and ability to support them, so I'm glad that the lecture is taking place.
Even on the day when a great disaster happens, it is human and natural for them to get up in the morning and still be bothered by how they look in the mirror;
that despite the terrible war, they have the right to deal with themselves and their concerns that they may not be worthy or beautiful enough.
It was a good lecture, and there was even a moment when we laughed when I did the "selfie exercise" with them.
Each child was asked to take a picture of himself smiling and then tell what he really felt.
One of the children shouted at me and asked how dare we laugh on a morning like this.
I told him that I understand what he means, but maybe if we think about it, maybe our dear soldiers are in Gaza for that too, so that girls and boys can continue to live, dream, grow up and cope, even in times like this.
One of the other kids pointed out and asked if he would have a better chance with the girl he liked if he had a more positive body image.
I felt that if there is any image of victory, it is the fact that on such a terrible morning a 15-year-old boy does not give up his longing for first love.
sun and cry
On the way home the rain stopped and the sun came out, and it was strange that the sun chooses to come out in light of the news that is flowing, how come it doesn't continue to hide if it can.
I felt good relative to the feeling I woke up with in the morning, all relative to the basic sadness that surrounds us constantly.
While driving to the photo day in Tel Aviv, my beloved friend called me and told me in heartbreaking tears that her beloved cousin had fallen in Gaza, and how smart and kind and generous he was.
I couldn't help myself and cried along with her.
When I hung up on Etty, I continued to drive quietly.
There was no sound of rain filling the space and blurring everything like in the morning.
I let myself sink in, but I also knew that in an hour I would arrive at the studio, get dressed, put on makeup and continue.
We will all keep falling and getting up, even if it hurts a lot.
There is no other choice.
were we wrong
We will fix it!
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