A guide for those carrying the weight of Palestine while trying to stay grounded in their own lives

The Weight You Cannot Name

Three months after October 2023, I stopped sleeping.

Not in the dramatic way trauma therapists write about in textbooks, but in the quiet, grinding way that erodes your capacity to function. I would lie in bed watching footage from Gaza on my phone until 3 AM, tears streaming silently. Palestinian children with limbs blown off. Fathers holding pieces of their babies in plastic bags because Israeli bombs had obliterated their bodies so completely that there was nothing whole left to bury. Mothers screaming names into rubble that used to be homes.

Every morning, I woke to more death. Every evening, I scrolled through more destruction. And every single day, I watched people in my life, people I loved and respected, say absolutely nothing.

The silence was louder than the bombs.

I am a Palestinian Czech. My father's family carries the wound of the Nakba in their bones. My mother's family carries the wound of European complicity in their collective memory. I grew up between worlds, between languages, between the comfort of Czech privilege and the grief of Palestinian displacement. And in October 2023, those worlds collided in a way that made pretending impossible.

I could no longer perform the version of myself that made everyone comfortable. I could no longer stay silent about genocide to protect relationships with people who valued their comfort over Palestinian children's lives. I could no longer separate my spiritual work from the most urgent moral crisis of our time.

Gaza broke me open. And in that breaking, I found something I had been searching for my entire life: clarity about who I actually am and what I am here to do.

If you are reading this, you know the weight I am describing. You have felt the helplessness that comes from witnessing atrocity in real time whilst your government, your media, your colleagues, your family act as though nothing extraordinary is happening (Moghaddam, 2005). You have experienced the disorientation of living in a society that claims to value human rights whilst actively funding genocide (Herman, 1997). You have carried the impossible tension of trying to stay grounded in your own life whilst Palestinian families are being systematically eliminated.

This blog is not about convincing you that Gaza matters. If you are here, you already know. This is about what you do with that knowledge when helplessness threatens to swallow you whole.

The Anatomy of Helplessness

Your body recognises that something terrible is occurring, but your brain cannot identify any action that would stop it. So you freeze. Or you're numb. Or you scroll endlessly through images of suffering, searching desperately for some way to make it stop.

Psychologists call this "learned helplessness," a phenomenon first identified by Martin Seligman in 1967 through experiments with dogs subjected to inescapable electric shocks. When the dogs learned that nothing they did prevented the pain, they stopped trying to escape, even when escape became possible. They had learned that their actions did not matter.

Palestine creates learned helplessness on a global scale. We watch children murdered with weapons funded by our governments. We see international law violated openly and repeatedly without consequences. We witness journalists, doctors, and UN workers targeted and killed whilst the world's most powerful nations provide diplomatic cover and military support for the perpetrators (B'Tselem, 2025). And we learn, day after horrifying day, that our outrage does not stop the killing.

The helplessness compounds when you recognise how sophisticated the systems maintaining this violence actually are. This is not random cruelty. This is systematic elimination supported by decades of propaganda, billions of dollars in military aid, and carefully constructed narratives that dehumanise Palestinians so thoroughly that their deaths barely register as tragedies (Said, 1978).

How do you fight that? How does one person, overwhelmed and grieving, challenge systems of oppression backed by the world's most powerful governments and sustained by sophisticated propaganda apparatus?

The answer Palestinian culture has carried for 75 years: sumud. Steadfastness. The refusal to be moved from your truth, regardless of the forces arrayed against you.

What Your Body Knows Before Your Mind Does

Before I understood what was happening politically in Gaza, my body knew. I would wake with my jaw clenched so tightly my teeth ached. My shoulders lived somewhere near my ears. I would find myself holding my breath for minutes at a time, as though breathing freely whilst Palestinian children suffocated under rubble felt obscene.

This is trauma. As Gabor Maté explains, trauma is not the events themselves, but the inner injury that happens in response to those events (Maté, 2023). The nervous system registers threat and suffering, whether directly experienced or witnessed, and reacts as though the danger is personal. Your body does not distinguish between the horrors endured by others and those you endure yourself. Exposure to repeated images or stories of suffering can create a chronic state of stress, where the nervous system is constantly primed for threat, leaving the body tense, the mind anxious, and emotions difficult to regulate.

Trauma disconnects us from our bodies and our emotions. Maté emphasizes that the essence of trauma is this very disconnection: the splitting off of feelings and sensations in order to survive overwhelming circumstances. In this state, neither thought nor action flows freely. Creativity, strategic thinking, and connection with others become difficult, because the nervous system is focused on survival rather than engagement.

You cannot build peace from a body that is in chronic stress. You cannot sustain activism from a disconnected state. You cannot hold space for Palestinian liberation while your body carries unprocessed trauma. Healing begins with reconnecting with yourself—your breath, your sensations, your emotions—so that inner regulation becomes possible. From that regulated state, purposeful action and authentic solidarity can emerge.

The Practices That Actually Help

Over the past months, I have developed specific practices that allow me to stay engaged with Gaza without destroying myself. These are not theoretical concepts. These are embodied tools I use daily to remain grounded whilst carrying unbearable knowledge.

Morning Grounding Before Scrolling

Before I check any news, I spend 10 minutes in somatic practice. I feel my feet on the floor. I notice my breath. I place my hand on my heart and acknowledge: "I am here. I am alive. I will use this life for something that matters."

Then I set an intention: "I will witness what is happening in Gaza. I will feel what I feel. I will not numb or dissociate. And I will channel what I learn into meaningful action." This transforms passive scrolling into purposeful witnessing.

Emotional Freedom Technique for Overwhelm

When grief or rage threatens to overwhelm me, I use EFT (Emotional Freedom Technique), a somatic intervention that combines acupressure points with cognitive reframing.

I tap through the standard points whilst naming what I feel: "Even though I am watching children be murdered and I feel helpless, I deeply and completely accept myself and this moment." The tapping sends calming signals to the amygdala whilst the words acknowledge reality without sugarcoating. Within minutes, my nervous system shifts from activated to regulated, allowing me to think clearly about what action I can actually take.

Community Witnessing Circles

Isolation intensifies helplessness. When you carry unbearable knowledge alone, your nervous system interprets this as mortal danger. Connection signals safety to your body even when external circumstances remain threatening (Mukamana et al., 2019).

I gather with other Palestinians and Palestine allies in witnessing circles. We sit together, name what we have seen, share what we are feeling, and remind each other that our care matters even when we cannot stop the killing immediately. These circles are not support groups where we process emotions endlessly. They are strategic spaces where we regulate our nervous systems together so we can sustain our engagement with Palestine over the years, not just weeks.

The Rwanda post-genocide study shows that sharing suffering narratives, living together, and helping each other in community spaces strengthens resilience and reduces isolation (Mukamana et al., 2019). As the researchers note:

“For the research participants, ‘healing’ meant ‘kongera kwiyubaka’ (building ourselves again after the genocide), requiring ‘kwigira’ (self‑reliance) and ‘gusasa inzobe’ (openness to share what is in their hearts).”

Similarly, when someone across from you breathes slowly and maintains grounded presence whilst you speak about your rage and grief, your nervous system begins to mirror their regulation. You literally borrow their capacity for staying present until you can access your own again.

Action Anchored in Your Actual Capacity

The most destructive pattern I see in Palestine activism is people taking on more than their nervous system can sustain, burning out within weeks, and disappearing from the movement entirely. This serves no one, least of all Palestinians, who need sustained solidarity, not dramatic gestures that cannot be maintained.

I assess my capacity honestly every week. Some weeks, I can organise events, speak publicly, and engage in difficult conversations. Other weeks, my nervous system needs rest, and my action looks like making one Instagram post or sending money to one Palestinian family. Both matter. Both are part of long-term movement building.

This is where Quantum Mind Transformation principles become essential. Your subconscious mind drives 95% of your behaviour (Lipton, 2005). If your subconscious believes activism requires self-destruction, you will unconsciously sabotage your own engagement. But when you consciously reprogram your beliefs about what sustainable activism looks like—activism as marathon, not sprint—your subconscious supports actions you can actually maintain.

The Historical Mirror

What is happening in Gaza is not new. The tactics are not new. The propaganda is not new. The international complicity is not new. Understanding historical parallels helps dismantle the helplessness that comes from feeling like this moment is uniquely incomprehensible.

In the 1990s, the international community watched the Rwandan genocide unfold for 100 days, killing 800,000 people, whilst Western governments evacuated their own citizens and refused to intervene (Des Forges, 1999). The propaganda called Tutsis "cockroaches." The killings were broadcast on the radio. The world knew and did nothing until the genocide was essentially complete.

France occupied Algeria for 132 years (1830‑1962). During this period, up to 10 million Algerians died due to colonial repression, massacres, forced labor, and systematic attempts to erase Algerian identity. The French colonial regime portrayed Algerians as culturally and racially inferior, describing them as “rats” rather than people, and justified their domination through the ideology of a “civilising mission,” claiming they were obliged to bring modernity to the population. Military propaganda and media framed resistance as illegitimate and violent, while psychological and gendered warfare targeted men as rebellious and women as symbols of backwardness, reinforcing dehumanization.

In the early 1960s, France conducted nuclear tests in the Algerian desert (17 confirmed explosions between 1960‑1966) and continues to refuse full disclosure of test sites. France has never apologized or officially acknowledged the genocide, nor provided any form of reconciliation to the affected communities, avoiding accountability for the lasting damage.

The pattern repeats: systematic dehumanisation through propaganda, military violence backed by powerful states, international institutions failing to enforce their own laws, and ordinary people worldwide maintaining comfortable silence whilst atrocities unfold.

Gaza follows this pattern precisely. Israeli officials openly call Palestinians "human animals" and declare intent to eliminate them (Haaretz, 2025). Western governments provide weapons and diplomatic cover whilst claiming to support humanitarian law. International courts issue warrants that are ignored. And much of the global population, including many who consider themselves progressive, find ways to look away.

But here is what the historical record also shows: genocides end. Occupations end. Apartheid systems collapse. Not because powerful governments suddenly develop consciences, but because enough ordinary people refuse to participate in the violence through their silence and complicity.

Apartheid in South Africa ended not primarily through UN resolutions, but through sustained international boycott, divestment, and sanctions campaigns driven by ordinary people worldwide (Meredith, 2007). The anti-apartheid movement took decades and faced massive opposition But it worked. The economic and political pressure eventually became unsustainable, and the apartheid government fell.

Palestine's liberation will follow a similar trajectory. The question is not whether Israeli apartheid will end, but how long it takes and how many more Palestinians die before enough people worldwide refuse to be complicit.

From Witness to Actor

The transformation from passive witness to active participant does not happen through grand gestures. It happens through small, consistent choices that signal to your nervous system: I am not helpless. I have agency. My actions matter.

Speaking When Silence Would Be Easier

The first and most difficult action is breaking your own silence. I lost friendships when I began speaking about Palestine. Professional colleagues unfollowed me on social media. And every single time I chose to speak anyway, something in me strengthened.

Speaking truth teaches courage and integrity. The more you practice, the more automatic it becomes.

The solidarity of the shaken is built up in persecution and uncertainty: that is its front line, quiet, without fanfare or sensation even there where this aspect of the ruling Force seeks to seize it. (Jan Patočka)

Start small if you need to. Share one post about Palestine on your social media. Send one email to your political representative. Have one conversation with one person in your life who has been silent. Notice what happens in your body when you do. Notice the fear, yes, but also notice the aliveness that comes from aligning your actions with your values.

Economic Action

Money is power in the system we live in. Where you spend your money either supports or challenges oppression. I stopped buying products from companies that support Israeli apartheid. I redirected that money to Palestinian mutual aid funds, Palestinian businesses, and organisations doing liberation work.

The Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions movement provides clear frameworks for economic action (www.bdsmovement.net). These are not complicated: do not buy products from companies profiting from occupation, do not invest in funds that include companies supporting the Israeli military, and do support Palestinian economic initiatives directly.

Each economic decision signals to your subconscious: my choices matter. I am not helpless. I am using whatever power I have, even if it is just choosing where to spend my grocery money in the service of justice.

Community Building

Isolation serves oppression. Connection serves liberation. I actively build community with other Palestinians, with Palestine allies, with anyone committed to collective liberation, regardless of their specific identity or background.

These are not performative communities where we post hashtags and congratulate ourselves. These are working communities where we share resources, coordinate actions, hold each other accountable, and sustain each other's capacity for long-term engagement.

When you are part of a community actively working towards justice, your individual helplessness transforms into collective power. You feel grief, yes, but you feel it alongside others who refuse to accept injustice as inevitable.

What Palestine Teaches About Power

Here is what Palestinians in Gaza are teaching the world right now: power is not about weapons. Power is about refusing to disappear.

Despite 20 months of genocide, despite more than 100,000 tonnes of explosives dropped on 365 square kilometres, despite systematic starvation, and despite the destruction of every hospital, school, and cultural institution, Palestinians in Gaza have not surrendered (UN, 2025). They continue documenting their own genocide. They continue speaking their truth. They continue asserting their right to exist.

This is sumud. This is the power that terrifies colonial forces more than any military resistance: the absolute refusal to accept elimination.

Every Palestinian doctor who continues treating patients in destroyed hospitals. Every Palestinian journalist who continues reporting while being targeted and killed. Every Palestinian mother who continues caring for her children despite impossible circumstances. Every Palestinian person who continues saying "we will not leave" despite 75 years of attempted ethnic cleansing.

They are not helpless. They are the most powerful people on earth right now because they embody the truth that no system of oppression, regardless of how much violence it deploys, can eliminate a people who refuse to disappear.

When you feel helpless about Palestine, remember: you have more freedom, more resources, more physical safety than Palestinians in Gaza currently have. If they can refuse to be erased under literal bombs, you can refuse to be silent from your comfortable position. If they can maintain their dignity whilst the world watches them be destroyed, you can maintain your integrity whilst people around you are merely uncomfortable with your activism.

The Practice of Purposeful Action

Transforming helplessness into purposeful action requires three elements: regulation, clarity, and consistency.

Regulation: Choose to regulate your nervous system enough to think strategically. Use somatic practices, community connection, and intentional rest to maintain capacity for engagement without burning out.

Clarity: Choose to identify your specific gifts, resources, and sphere of influence. What can you actually do? Where do you have leverage? What unique contributions can you make based on your position, skills, and relationships?

Consistency: You must commit to sustained engagement over years, not weeks. Quick bursts of intense activism followed by burnout serve no one. Steady, consistent action compounds over time into meaningful impact.

For me, this looks like: using my therapeutic training to help activists process vicarious trauma, using my platform to educate people about Palestinian history and liberation, using my position as a European citizen to pressure my government, and using my financial resources to directly support Palestinian families.

Your purposeful action will look different based on your specific context. Perhaps you are an educator who can integrate Palestinian perspectives into the curriculum. Perhaps you are a healthcare worker who can organise professional statements condemning attacks on medical infrastructure. Perhaps you are an artist who can create work that centres Palestinian humanity. Perhaps you are someone with access to institutional decision makers who can advocate for policy change.

The specific action matters less than the consistency. Pick something you can actually sustain. Do it repeatedly. Connect with others doing similar work. Adjust based on what proves effective. Keep going.

When Your Action Feels Too Small

I know what you are thinking: "This is not enough. Nothing I do makes any difference while children are still being murdered."

You are right and you are wrong.

You are right that your individual action cannot immediately stop genocide. You are right that the forces maintaining Israeli apartheid are powerful and entrenched. You are right that the urgency of this moment demands more than what any one person can provide.

But you are wrong if you think your action does not matter. You are wrong if you think sustained solidarity from millions of ordinary people worldwide has no impact. You are wrong if you think maintaining your integrity regardless of outcome is meaningless.

The anti-apartheid movement in South Africa took decades. The people who began boycotting South African products in the 1960s did not live to see apartheid fall in 1994. But their actions, combined with millions of others making similar choices, created the conditions that eventually made apartheid unsustainable.

Palestinian liberation will follow the same path. The question is not whether you personally can end the occupation. The question is whether you will be one of the people whose sustained commitment, however small it appears, contributes to the eventual collapse of Israeli apartheid.

History remembers the people who refused to be bystanders. History remembers the people who maintained their humanity when systems around them demanded complicity. History remembers the people who chose solidarity over comfort.

Gaza is asking you who you want to be in this historical moment. Not who you wish you could be. Not who you would be if circumstances were different. Who you actually choose to be right now, today, with the resources and constraints you actually have.

The Invitation

This blog began with my insomnia, my scrolling, my grief. It began with helplessness so total it threatened to swallow me whole.

It ends with an invitation.

You are not powerless. You are someone with agency, resources, and the capacity for choice. The helplessness you feel is real, but it is not the truth. The truth is that your solidarity matters, your voice matters, your economic choices matter, and your willingness to have uncomfortable conversations matters.

Not because any single action will stop the killing immediately, but because collective commitment from millions of people worldwide is what creates the conditions for liberation. You are one person in that collective. Your steady participation compounds with others' participation into something powerful enough to challenge even the most entrenched systems of oppression.

Gaza needs you to be regulated, clear, and consistent. Gaza needs you to refuse the learned helplessness that serves colonial power. Gaza needs you to stay engaged for years, not just months. Gaza needs you to believe that your action matters even when immediate results are not visible.

Most of all, Gaza needs you to refuse to look away. To refuse comfortable silence. To refuse the numbing and dissociation that make genocide possible. To refuse every invitation to prioritise your comfort over Palestinian life.

This is love. Not the easy love of good feelings and positive energy. The difficult love that shows up consistently for liberation, even when the work is hard and the outcomes are uncertain. The revolutionary love that chooses solidarity over safety, truth over convenience, collective liberation over individual comfort.

You are not powerless. You are standing at a threshold. On one side: continued helplessness, comfortable silence, the numbing that makes atrocity possible. On the other side: purposeful action, sustained commitment, the aliveness that comes from aligning your life with your values regardless of outcome.

Step through.

References

References

B'Tselem. (2025). Our genocide: Israel's extermination policy in Gaza. https://www.btselem.org/publications/202507_our_genocide

Des Forges, A. (1999). Leave none to tell the story: Genocide in Rwanda. Human Rights Watch.

Haaretz. (2025, May 28). Yes to transfer: 82% of Jewish Israelis back expelling Gazans. https://www.haaretz.com/israel-news/2025-05-28/ty-article-magazine/.premium/yes-to-transfer-82-of-jewish-israelis-back-expelling-gazans/00000197-12a4-df22-a9d7-9ef6af930000

Herman, J. L. (1997). Trauma and recovery: The aftermath of violence—from domestic abuse to political terror. Basic Books.

Lipton, B. H. (2005). The biology of belief: Unleashing the power of consciousness, matter and miracles. Hay House.

Maté, G. (2023). The myth of normal: Trauma, illness, and healing in a toxic culture. Knopf.

Meredith, M. (2007). Diamonds, gold, and war: The British, the Boers, and the making of South Africa. Public Affairs.

Moghaddam, F. M. (2005). The staircase to terrorism: A psychological exploration. American Psychologist, 60(2), 161–169.

Mukamana, D., Brenneman, S., Sebagenzi, N., Uwituze, F. E., Perera, C., & Dowd, J. (2019). Building a community of memory: Survivors' narratives of genocide and healing. Transcultural Psychiatry, 56(6), 1180–1204.

Patočka, J. (1996). Heretical essays in the philosophy of history (E. Kohák, Trans.). Open Court Publishing. (Original work published 1975)

Said, E. W. (1978). Orientalism. Pantheon Books.

United Nations. (2025). Gaza humanitarian situation report. UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs