October 10 is meant to be a day where we highlight the importance of caring for wounds that aren’t visible—the emotional and psychological scars we carry. But this year, the world is bleeding, and the sounds of explosions and massacres have drowned out any conversation about inner wounds. Instead of reflecting on mental health, many are simply fighting to stay alive and sane amidst war.

As a therapist, I find myself paralyzed, feeling powerless to support those in need. I’m still in denial that this is happening, and that it’s so close—closer than ever before. I wonder, what truly separates me from those who have become martyrs to the same manic violence? Is it my education? But the literacy rate in Gaza is one of the highest. Perhaps it’s the fact that I’ve traveled the world and speak multiple languages. But then I think of Dr. Refaat, who is a writer, poet and professor, he studied in London and has a PhD, yet was murdered in broad daylight. I came to the painful conclusion that I am no different. I’m an Arab, and to the outside world, my life is expendable. Just another life in a region that has seen too many.

I began to question my own worth, realizing how fragile and insignificant I had become in the face of this violence. The trauma was overwhelming—not just the threat to my physical existence, but the profound devaluation of my life and identity. According to the APA’s definition, “Trauma is an emotional response to a terrible event like an accident, crime, or natural disaster. Reactions such as shock and denial are typical.” And that is exactly what I’m experiencing.

The difference between our trauma and that of veterans, whose experiences have been extensively studied, is stark. Veterans went to the battlefield and then came home to deal with their trauma. But for us, the battlefield is our home—our neighborhoods, parks, mosques, airports. There are no longer boundaries between war and safety. It’s all blurred. The cruelty of war has no limits anymore. It doesn’t discriminate between fighters, elders, men, women, children, or even animals. No one is spared.

So on this Mental Health Day, we must recognize that for many, mental health is a luxury they cannot afford. The battle for survival takes precedence over healing the mind. But we cannot forget that trauma endures, long after the war stops. And if we ever want to rebuild, it must start with the mind and the heart. The world has failed us, but we cannot afford to fail ourselves. Let this day be a reminder—not just of mental health’s importance—but of the silent battles millions are fighting, even when the bombs fall silent.