In the winter of 1996, I served in Lebanon as a tank commander at the Aiyash Outpost. While I was there, nine of my comrades were killed. The memories of that winter follow me everywhere.

On the day I was discharged from the IDF, Amit, the tank commander to whom I left most of my military equipment, including my bed, was killed in automobile accident. Less than two months later, another officer who I knew well from company I commanded was killed.

In December 2005, the tank company to which I belong participated in an exercise against infantry troops in the Lebanese sector. Remaining in the tank for nighttime ambush and searching for infantry soldiers, brought back difficult feelings and the ghosts of Lebanon awoke after a long hibernation.

After the exercise, returning to the routine of studying philosophy at university was not easy. I found myself floating, sad, unstable and moody. I could not concentrate and lacked strength and vitality. For the last decade, girlfriends and lovers have told me more than once but it would be good for me to seek therapy but this was the first time that I said it to myself clearly. It was clear to me that that my psyche included unresolved connections to Lebanon that were neutralizing me and keeping me from functioning properly. During the most pressured academic period, I found myself completely unable to function, lacking in self confidence with women, introspective, broken and very suspicious.

After consulting with my younger sister, who had been a officer working with wounded soldiers during her IDF service, I decided to call NATAL. I spoke to Niva and described my problem as I saw it and my feelings about life, Lebanon, the army and death.

Niva asked me if I cried and I answered no. Today, I know that to cry is to allow yourself to be honest about your feelings.

Niva told me that what I had experienced during my army service was difficult, really terrible. It was strange because I had never thought of my service as a terrible experience, I didn’t think about it that way.

Then, suddenly, I decided to allow myself to admit that yes indeed, these were terrible, horrible and painful experiences to have at such a young age. Suddenly, I understood that my psyche had been wounded on that cursed mountain in Lebanon and nobody had bandaged it; it’d been lying bleeding quietly for 10 years, bleeding internally while I convinced myself that I was strong and capable.

Short and to the point: the really important part is that I understood that my Lebanon, with all of its pain, is primarily the story of an eye-opening.

War broke out in July and missiles fell on Haifa. I stopped treatment. On August 2, I was drafted under emergency orders. After I received the notification, I went to a pub, drank a beer and wrote a will. I promised myself that, if I came home alive, I would enjoy life, write a book and volunteer.

Niva, the therapist, conducted a psychological dry run with me, in preparation for entering Lebanon in a tank… Real emotional preparation.

When we crossed the border, suddenly all of the tension dissolved. I felt a amazing sense of relief. A very strong feeling of vitality. The war was appalling but in the end I came out healthy and in one piece, with a few more painful memories.

OK, I don’t want to end on an angry or pessimistic note so I will recommend that anyone who has any unresolved issues remaining from the past seek out therapy; the sooner, the better. And about crying, it is human and wonderful.

Three months ago, I met Rotem, the love of my life and after a long period of flirtations it was clear that I had come home and I would like to stay with her for ever. So we have moved in to Tel Aviv together, I rewrote one seminar paper and my thesis proposal is waiting by the keyboard.