Last year, I went to Gaza and was asked to train my colleagues on brief therapies for children to manage trauma. Under bombardment and under siege, the tools we usually have to help children (such as play therapy toys, colour pencils and paper) were in short supply or had been denied at the border.

In the absence of resources, I racked my brain for simple ways to help keep kids grounded and calm during the terror and panic of bombs exploding and quadcopters shooting incessantly through the night.

All I could think of was the butterfly hug. The child simply wraps their arms around themselves and alternates tapping their hands on their shoulders. It’s a self-soothing, grounding exercise.

I demonstrated this to my team, while explaining in depth the theory behind trauma disorders and the mechanism for processing it.

A social worker raised her hand: “ What do we do when they have no arms? Many of the kids we see are amputees”

I was flooded with shame. All the suggestions I had made to my Palestinian colleagues, such as playing soccer, drawing pictures, and the butterfly hug, were ableist. I had been disability-blind.

Yesterday, I read that Gaza now has more child amputees than anywhere else in the world. I think of them, and the trauma they will carry if this ever ends.

When I think of the senselessness of it all, of those kids who couldn't even shut their ears or hug themselves, it keeps me awake at night. I wrote the words that follow while up late, thinking about who has the power to stop it.

________________________________________________________________________________________________

 How do you all sleep at night? 

I’ve started thinking lately: “How far away does one need to be - to kill, and sleep well?” Is it one step away, the soldier with the gun?

Two steps removed, the sergeant who issues the order?

Three kilometres high, the pilot who drops the bomb?

Four layers aloof, the Prime Minister who signs the papers?

Or is it five layers away. The silence by you all.

Because I tell you now. We do not sleep well.

Some say this is how the world is and always has been. Wars happen. Empires fall and new ones rise. Tribes eradicate tribes. And this is just another version of that.

But my friend Omar, he loved to discuss books and new therapies with me, there is no one like him. He’s the only Omar to me.

And Laila, she refused to turn away a single patient, even when the boss said no. There’s no other Laila quite like her.

And Mo, his booming laugh and goofy smile, even when the bombs rained down, he’d wink to keep the kids calm. One of a kind, the gentle giant Mo.

So, each of you, the soldier, the Prime Minister, and those who remain silent. I say you are responsible for murdering our patients, our colleagues… my friends.

And it is how you can do this, yet still sleep well, that keeps me awake at night.

Scarlet Wong is a guest author for abilityNEWS. She is a Sydney-based psychologist who served as a mental health activity manager in Gaza in March 2024. She has previously been on assignment with MSF in Palestine, as well as Uganda and Türkiye.