Coming Back to "Normal" After War: Why It Doesn't Feel So Simple

The past two and a half years have been extremely challenging for Israeli families. Many families were already running on empty when this round began, and then came five weeks of sirens, safe rooms, school closures, juggling work demands and for many, a partner or parent away on miluim.

And now, very suddenly, we're back. Schools open. Routines resumed. Life looking, from the outside, like it did before.

But for a lot of us, it doesn't feel that way.

There's something disorienting about how quickly the switch happened, a kind of whiplash between two completely different states of being. And underneath that, for many families, sits a quiet unease: how long will this last? Will we go back? That uncertainty doesn't make re-entry easier.

This post is for parents navigating that in-between, trying to understand what their children are going through, what to watch for, and how to help.

Why the body doesn't simply switch off

During the weeks of active threat, sirens, safe room runs, disrupted sleep, constant news, our nervous systems moved into survival mode. The body becomes used to being vigilant, constantly scanning for danger, we still have higher levels of cortisol and adrenaline. This is not a malfunction. It is the body doing exactly what it is designed to do to keep us safe. Especially after extended periods of crisis, even if a ceasefire is announced and we return to normal suddenly, our body does not switch so quickly from crisis to feeling safe and secure. It can cause an experience of dissonance between what we know, the news we receive from the outside and what we feel and experience inside.

The psychologist Dan Siegel describes this as the "downstairs brain" taking over: the parts of the brain governing survival responses temporarily overriding the calmer, more rational "upstairs brain." The problem is that when the external threat reduces, the brain doesn't receive a clear all-clear. It needs time, and repeated experiences of safety, before it begins to trust that things have genuinely changed.

In other words: our minds know the ceasefire happened. Our bodies are still catching up. The war felt familiar, we knew what to do. It's the return to ordinary life that can feel disorienting, because our nervous systems haven't yet caught up with the change.

When "normal" feels unfamiliar — or even harder

Something many people don't anticipate: for some of us the return to "normal" routine can feel more scary and confusing than war.

During periods of intense crisis, life often becomes paradoxically simpler:

• One clear priority: safety

• Permission to cancel, say no, and let non-essentials fall away

• Families together, present, focused on the same thing

  
  

Now we are back to the full weight of ordinary life, work, schedules, social obligations, children’s activities, while our nervous systems are still calibrating. The load is heavier, and the permission to simplify seems to have disappeared.

It can be helpful allow ourselves to question this. Not everything needs to return all at once. This moment can offer an opportunity to reflect on how much we usually carry, and whether some things can remain simplified for a while.

Another part of this adjustment can feel surprising. When we have lived in a state of heightened alert for a period of time, that state can begin to feel more certain and familiar. There is a clarity to it, the rules are clear, we know what to do. Our nervous system prefers what it knows, even if what it is familiar with is was and stress.

Returning to ordinary life, by contrast, can feel less predictable. It can feel dangerous to allow ourselves to be less vigilant and relax.

When threat disrupts life, it also disrupts our sense of things moving forward in a familiar, predictable rhythm. One of the ways this sense is gradually restored is through everyday routines, even small, simple ones. These rhythms help the body begin to recognise that things are safe again.

What to watch for

Most children will adjust with time, safety, and connection. But it helps to know what to look out for.

Signs by age:

Younger children (roughly 3–8):

• Clinginess or difficulty separating

• Regression — bedwetting, baby talk, increased dependence

• Sleep difficulties, nightmares

• Repetitive play re-enacting frightening scenarios

• Tantrums or emotional outbursts beyond their usual baseline

  
  

Older children and tweens (roughly 9–13):

• Physical complaints with no clear cause — stomach aches, headaches

• Reluctance or refusal to return to school

• Repetitive, anxious questions

• Angry outbursts or withdrawal

• Difficulty concentrating

  
  

Teenagers:

• Withdrawal from family

• Obsessive news-checking

• Hopelessness or fatalism

• Disrupted sleep or appetite

• Risky behaviour

  
  

When to consider seeking support:

It may be worth speaking to a professional if you notice:

• Ongoing sleep difficulties or frequent nightmares

• Separation anxiety beyond what's typical for their age

• Persistent fears or avoidance — refusing school, reluctance to leave the house

• Frequent emotional outbursts, anger, or withdrawal

• Physical complaints with no clear medical cause

• Regression — bedwetting, increased clinginess

• Difficulty returning to previous activities or friendships

  
  

A useful benchmark: some signs of stress are entirely normal during and after a difficult period. What warrants attention is intensity and duration, symptoms that are severe, or that persist beyond two to three weeks without easing.

How parents can help

Regulate yourself first. Young children literally borrow our calm, they regulate their own nervous systems through ours. As they grow, they shift from relying on our physical presence to sensing our emotional state, and gradually learn to regulate more independently. But even older children and teenagers are affected by how we're doing.

This isn't about performing calm you don't feel. It's more like the oxygen mask principle, we need to attend to our own state first, even briefly, before we can be genuinely present for our children.

Ease back into routines gently. Wartime changed a lot of our daily patterns, bedtimes shifted, morning routines looked different, the shape of the day was reorganised around safety. We're now returning to our normal schedules, and that in itself takes adjustment.

The goal isn't to snap back instantly. It's to gradually re-establish the rhythms, a reliable bedtime, a consistent morning, meals together where possible, knowing that these patterns, even if they feel a little unfamiliar right now, will start to feel grounding again with time. Children settle into routines more than we realise, and those routines will slowly start to feel safe and normal again.

Name feelings simply. "That felt scary." "Your body is still getting used to things feeling safer." You don't need long explanations. Brief, honest acknowledgement is often enough.

Follow their lead with questions. Don't over-explain what they haven't asked about. But stay open, answer honestly, and let them know they can come back to the conversation.

Expect repetition — and let it happen. Children process difficult experiences through repetition. For younger children this often happens through play, re-enacting scenarios, returning to the same themes, working something through without words. Older children may ask the same questions repeatedly. This is not a sign that something is wrong. It is how children make sense of things they've been through. Our job is mostly to stay present, observe, as well as being curious and asking questions that can help them uncover their resources or things that can help.

As trauma therapists such as Babette Rothschild have described, the mind and body often need time, and repeated opportunities, to process experiences at a pace that feels manageable.

Be patient with yourself too. You are trying to hold things together for your children while carrying your own nervous system through the same adjustment. The whiplash of re-entry affects parents as much as children. You don't need to rush the process.

A note on resilience

One finding worth holding onto: children are not simply passive recipients of difficult experiences. Research by psychologists Tedeschi and Calhoun on post-traumatic growth suggests that when difficulty is held with support and meaning, it can build real capacities that weren't there before.

This isn't about minimising what has been hard. Children are often more resilient than we give them credit for, and with the right support, many will come through this period having discovered something about their own strength. Some of that may surprise you, and them.

When to reach out

If you're unsure whether what you're seeing in your child is a normal part of adjustment or something that might benefit from support, a short conversation with a therapist can often bring clarity. You don't need to wait until things feel serious.

Shira Rappoport is a psychotherapist specialising in children, adolescents, and families, working in Modi'in, Ra'anana, and online. Free consultation available.