War Begins Again When Those Left Behind Try to Live
A Brief History
I was born in 1988, during the brutal final stretch of the Lebanese Civil War — a war that raged from 1975 to 1990. Those last years were chaos: factions fighting for power, influence, and survival, while ordinary people tried to cling to life.
Away from the politics and headlines, a child was born that year — nameless for months until my late aunt gave me my name: Ashraf.
War Begins Again When Those Left Behind Try to Live
As a child, I never understood why I felt so anxious, restless, and disconnected. Wherever I was, I wanted to go home. To feel safe. I couldn’t explain it, and no one — not even my parents — could see it.
I remember feeling trapped inside my own skin, wanting to crawl out of my shoes, my clothes, my body, to escape that unnamed tension humming inside me. I didn’t know it then, but that was my first inheritance from the war.
My Mother’s Fear, My Fear – Born in War
That fear wasn’t just mine — it was hers.
When she was pregnant with me, bombs were falling on our village. She and my family fled into a bunker, carrying that terror in their bodies. She used to say, “That was the norm back then.” But trauma doesn’t disappear just because we normalize it. It buries itself deep.
And I carried it with me, even before I was born. That constant hypervigilance — that readiness to run, to hide, to never fully rest — became my quiet companion.
Growing Up in the Shadow
In school, I was bullied for years. I didn’t understand why it had to be me, or why I kept it to myself, never telling my parents. Something in me couldn’t connect, couldn’t interact, couldn’t live the life I quietly fantasized about.
Until I was eighteen, I felt like I was always on the run — under attack, unsafe, unprotected, and always alert to flee. That feeling shaped me in ways I still uncover.
War, Again
In 2006, war found me again. Israel’s assault on Lebanon didn’t just shake the ground around me — it shook something deep inside me, something that had been waiting since birth.
Living through that second war carved new layers onto old wounds. It taught me how deeply war embeds itself in the body and how long it lingers after the bombs stop falling.
The Cost of War
I share this reflection now, as wars erupt across the world, to remind us: every war scars generations.
When we support war — actively or silently — we do more than destroy lives in the present. We strip ourselves of our humanity and forgo our kindness, empathy, integrity, and peace and all our values, not just from others, but from ourselves.
We hand that suffering to our children, and they to theirs. And those we’ve inflicted violence on? They carry it forward too. This is how war sustains itself — a vicious cycle of trauma and retribution passed down, generation to generation.
A Call to Reflect
I think of the children of Ukraine. The children of Palestine.
What are the chances they will grow up without anger, without hatred, without a desire for revenge? What are the chances that this cycle won’t repeat, fed by our silence, our support, our detachment?
My story is just one thread in this tapestry.
I leave you with this to reflect:
War doesn’t end when the bombs stop. It begins again when those left behind try to live.
Enjoy my other reads:
Recover Your Sovereignty: On this link.
Stop Blaming Your Parents: Turning Mindfulness into Self‑Responsibility. On this link.
Living in Peace: How to Find Inner Peace in this World? On this link.
How to Transform Self-Sabotage with Mindfulness and Love? On this link.
Emotional Identity and Pain: Who Are You Without the Struggle? On this link.
External Resources:
Zen & Engaged Buddhism:
Without Our Triggers, Our Growth is Hindered
Mindfulness of our Triggers Help us Grow
For many years, I thought avoiding certain people was a sign of growth — less triggered, less agitated, less angry. But in reality, I was only avoiding what was already present inside me. I was burying it as deep as possible in my consciousness, convincing myself that if I didn’t look at it, it didn’t exist. As I brought mindfulness into my triggers and the benefit I got from being triggers, my perspective changes.
Not being Triggered was Great!
I enjoyed not being triggered because I didn’t have to face my negative emotions — my frustration and anger from my teenage years, my fear of abandonment from childhood, my deep need to control everything to feel safe, a need shaped by being born into and witnessing war in Beirut.
For a long time, it felt like these experiences didn’t exist anymore. I told myself I was fine — life was fine. But deep inside, I was unhappy. Something was missing.
Progress v/s Hindrance
What I thought was progress in my personal development was really just a lens I wore — an illusion that required little effort and brought no real transformation. Looking back, those were not forward steps but backward ones, keeping me further away from the work of truly knowing myself, my experiences, their impact, and how all of it shaped the human being I am today.
Years later, I was lucky enough to meet my ex-partner — someone who held up a mirror to me. That relationship became an invitation to grow, to reflect, to question.
Gabor Maté teaches that relationships are meant to trigger us — not to harm us, but to reveal our patterns and pain. Looking back, I feel grateful. That relationship helped me break down the walls I had built and begin to release the compartmentalization of my feelings.
Understanding Triggers with Mindfulness
Triggers, especially those brought by other people, are invitations to self-reflect.
Instead of reacting, we can pause and become curious:
“Interesting that I had this reaction to their behavior. What is being triggered in me?”
“What past experience does this feeling remind me of?”
For me, a trigger is a reaction that feels disproportionate to the situation — like my response has a deeper story behind it.
For example, I might have a political opinion, but when triggered, my opinion becomes much more intense. That intensity is a cue for me to ask myself:
“Where does this intensity come from?”
“What feelings are fueling it?”
“What old experiences are being replayed in this moment?”
Facing What We Bury
Triggers are all around us. Ignoring them doesn’t make them disappear — it only buries them deeper, where they can grow toxic and chronic.
When we learn to embrace our triggers with curiosity, we create an opening. That opening lets us grow, heal, and move toward a more peaceful mind and body.
It’s not easy work. But it’s the work that brings us home to ourselves.
Enjoy my other reads:
Recover Your Sovereignty: On this link.
Stop Blaming Your Parents: Turning Mindfulness into Self‑Responsibility. On this link.
Living in Peace: How to Find Inner Peace in this World? On this link.
How to Transform Self-Sabotage with Mindfulness and Love? On this link.
Emotional Identity and Pain: Who Are You Without the Struggle? On this link.
External Resources:
Zen & Engaged Buddhism: