War does not only take place at the front. For most people, it happens right in the middle of their own lives. It invades everyday existence without abolishing it. Work continues, children have their needs—often more than ever—shopping, household, organization: outwardly, everything appears normal. And yet, inwardly, everything changes.

The soul begins to function on two levels. One track runs in automatic mode: it handles things, organizes, keeps going. The other remains permanently tense, listens to news, startles at sounds, struggles to find rest. Even sleep at night is altered. This inner split is exhausting. On the outside, much appears unchanged, but inside, fatigue, worry, and tension accumulate.

There isn’t always one big breakdown. Far more often it is a creeping accumulation: one more night of news, one more worry about someone, one more vigilance that doesn’t let up. Over time, it seeps into every corner of life. Simple things are no longer simple. A normal conversation gets interrupted by breaking news alerts. A car ride is accompanied by latent readiness for alarm. Plans become provisional. Routine no...

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