I have been having some nightmares lately. I am protecting my family from intruders in all sorts of scenarios. The most recent one includes terrorists coming into my room, injecting me with what I assume is a serum, that will kill me as my body grows heavy and achy. I make sure to say the sh’ma as I wait to die.

These dreams aren’t shocking since Israel/Palestinians/Hamas is a topic of discussion in many of my conversations so much of my day and in the news outlets I check regularly. They’re certainly explainable given the fact that my daughter is literally on a flight to Israel as I write this. It’s not unexpected given the topic of the dense 700-page book I am reading about the ancient Jews from the times of the destruction of the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. So far, 150 pages in, I’m in the year 700 and the plot line has basically been a series of massacres of different groups of people, mainly Jews, throughout the generations. So the nightmares make sense. 

When I am awake, however, I don’t want to focus on the nightmares. I have choices and am trying to focus on gratitude. I feel heartbreak for others and also allow myself to remember how lucky I am to be living a normal life on the other side of the globe. I want to remain aware and supportive of people who are suffering, while not taking my current wellbeing for granted. I hug my family tighter as I try to celebrate life with gusto. I don’t feel badly for doing so. I feel grateful that I can.

It’s been striking me lately how, in my crowd, you can’t answer a casual “Hi, How’s it going?” with “Great”, “Good”, “Fine”, or even an upbeat “Okay”. You need to first say something like, “Well, given the situation…” or “Apart from everything else going on…” or just sigh and knowingly say, “You know”. Which, while making sense, does take something very important away from each of us who is on the sidelines: Our ability to claim inner joy no matter what is being thrown at us (or at other people we care about.)

We are trying to be sensitive. We are consumed with, empathetic to, and horrified by the war. 

But I know I’m not the only one who feels lucky enough to shower at any time of day, not having to worry about the usual times missiles are sent. I’m not the only one fortunate enough to be able to spend some evenings leisurely — simply reading, watching TV, or being social — and then enjoy going to work in the morning. I’m certainly not alone as I appreciated having some time and wherewithal to gift-give and volunteer this month.  I can’t be the only one who sets healthy intentions and celebrates when my exercise tracker gives a goal-achieved chime, no matter how seldom. I am among the many who are in love or laugh at funny things and enjoy being with family and friends. I am not the only healthy, able-bodied person who can walk the neighborhood free from security concerns. It’s not lost on me how luxuriously trivial it is to have my biggest problem some mornings be what to wear or how to say “No thanks” to the treats in the staff lounge. And I must not be the only one who feels grateful right now that I’m not living in a war zone and that while my family, friends, and people I don’t know are very much in my conscious and subconscious mind, my life is “great”, “good”, “fine”, and an upbeat “okay” a lot of the time. 

I am claiming permission to answer that I’m good, without always having to qualify and make sure you understand that I’m also empathetically worried, grieving, horrified, and motivated to help others. It allows me to separate my nightmares from my daytime reality. My first mother-in-law (I am lucky enough to have two) has many health issues. When people ask her how she’s doing, if having a bad day, she answers, “Fine but not dandy.” I like that. But if I am doing well (other than the, you know…) perhaps I can ease into answering, “How ya doin?” with “Grateful to be okay.”