At exactly the time that Hamas published a video of Chaim Perry, the 79-year-old Israeli who was taken hostage by Hamas on October 7, his daughter was in a meeting and her cell phone was turned off.

“When I left the meeting, I had dozens of unanswered calls,” Reut Even-Tov tells Shomrim. “My daughters had already managed to watch the video because their friends sent it to them, so I was already in a frenzy when I found myself in that situation. I stopped my car by the side of the road and first of all I looked at the photos of Chaim. He had a Hamas-style beard and they had shaved off his mustache. Usually, Chaim has a mustache and not a beard; in the video, it was the other way round. It took me a moment to recognize him because of that – and because he looked very thin and he had sunken eyes. Once the video started playing, it was easier to recognize his speech patterns and his hand movements – but it was still very hard to watch. It’s great to get a sign of life but it's also a visual demonstration of the total lack of agency he is experiencing. It’s hard to watch someone you care about in that position. Having said that, I would be willing to pay to see another video like that, just to know that he’s alive.”

Are you constantly on alert for another video?

“We’re on high alert the whole time. After all, Hamas doesn’t give anyone advanced warning; that’s part of its psychological warfare. When the IDF Spokesperson’s Unit publishes something – such as images of the tunnels that Chaim was held in, with the cages and drawings by Amilia, we got advanced warning from the officer in charge of hostages and MIAs the night before. Every time I see a message from that officer, it takes another year off my life. I feel like I’m having a heart attack every time I see her name on the screen. And if she calls me? Forget about it, I’m dead.”

Fernando Marman and Louis Har were rescued in a heroic operation in Rafah. Does that give you hope?

“I am delighted and thrilled for them. Two people have returned home alive and that is something marvelous which should not be taken for granted. And I doff my cap to the security forces on the stunning operation. With all due excitement, it was an extraordinary operation – which is the exception not the rule. A military rescue operation is highly dangerous and has limited chances of success. It’s not something that we can count on to get more than 100 people back. It could also endanger other hostages because Hamas has given instructions to shoot them if they think that the IDF is getting close. We are keeping our eye on the ball and we know that no matter what, the safest way to get the hostages back alive – and the emphasis is on ‘alive’ – is through a deal.”

How do you handle the endless uncertainty and anxiety?

“During the first few weeks, I was in a haze. I called it mashed brain syndrome. It was hard for me to put coherent sentences together and to think clearly. I did things and I cannot recreate what I did. I’m also an evacuee from Kibbutz Or Haner, close to the Gaza border, and it was only after we found an apartment and I spent a few weeks there that the situation started to stabilize.”

Did you ever think that the hostages would be held in Gaza for so long?

“Some of the families realized straight away that this would drag on for months. I didn’t. In the first few hours, I didn’t even tell my daughters that Chaim had been kidnapped, as I thought that he’d be returned within a few hours and we could spare them the torment. By midnight, I told myself, I can’t believe it. The day has ended and they still haven’t returned the hostages. Why are they holding on to octogenarians and a nine-month-old baby?”

Since then, you have had to get used to a different timetable.

“On day 80-something, the people at the Hostages and Missing Families Forum told us that they were making preparations for Day 100. I could see the look in the families’ faces. That sentence stunned them. They couldn’t even imagine that the hostages would still be in Gaza two weeks from them. I understand the logic in preparing things in advance, especially when they’re putting on a big event, but we found it very hard to digest. Now the families’ WhatsApp group is discussing an event for Purim. What the hell? That’s six weeks away. It’s unthinkable.”

Reut Even-Tov: “Some of the families realized straight away that this would drag on for months. I didn’t. In the first few hours, I didn’t even tell my daughters that Chaim had been kidnapped, as I thought that he’d be returned within a few hours and we could spare them the torment."

‘We will never be the same again’

Some of the professionals who were involved in the campaign to secure the release of Gilad Shalit from captivity in Gaza have joined the current campaign. According to one of them, “we must have sounded delusional to the families when we told them that it would take time. It never crossed their minds that it could take more than a few days for the hostages to come home. When we talked about planning a daily timetable, and then a monthly one, even those who were too polite to say anything looked at us as if we were mad. Today, the families understand that it’s a rollercoaster and that it’s a hell of a ride.”

Even when talk began about a new hostages-for-ceasefire deal, Even-Tov – whose mother is married to Perry – knew that any celebration would be premature. “During the previous round [of talks], we allowed ourselves to get excited. We did the calculations based on names and ages and we assumed that in another two or three rounds, Chaim would be on the list. We still hadn’t booked a taxi to the hospital, but when the officer asked for everyone’s addresses, I told myself that she must be ready for it. The last group of hostages was released on a Thursday and, before hostilities resumed on the Friday morning, there were negotiations through the night. When the fighting resumed at 7 o’clock in the morning, it was a huge disappointment.”

Are you envious of those people whose loved ones have returned home?

“Of course. This week, I said to someone whose mother had been freed, ‘I envy you all the time. It’s behind you. It’s over for you.’ That does not mean that I was not delighted to see her and the others freed from there. Every single person must be rescued from Gaza.”

Have you spoken to any of the freed hostages? Could that be a way for you to understand what Chaim is going through?

“Nili Margalit, who was in the same tunnel as Chaim, was released at night and she called my sister early the next morning to tell her everything. After the IDF uncovered the tunnel and there was an interview with Adina Moshe, it took me a week before I dared to watch it. I find it deeply disturbing to see the conditions, the cages, the mental torture of a place like that. My sister turned it off halfway through; she couldn’t sit through it all. Adina is an incredibly strong woman and you can see the torment she endured. I met her this week at a funeral on Kibbutz Nir Oz and tomorrow we have another one. Older people from the kibbutz, or people who suffered from medical complications even before October 7, have experienced a rapid decline in their condition over the past four months – because of heartbreak and sorrow.”

Does it affect the hostages’ families, too?

“I believe that, within two or three years, we will start to see first-degree relatives of the hostages who develop disorders because of the incessant stress that we are experiencing now. Right now, it’s mainly cases of flu that people can’t get rid of but, a few years from now – and I pray that I am wrong – we will be a high-risk group for many other disorders and diseases. The families are still very restrained, given the crazy stress that they are under. Even those that aren’t restrained are still pretty restrained, compared to the fury that will erupt if the hostages are returned in coffins or are not returned at all. But even if they are freed tomorrow, and allowed home from the hospital the next day, we will never be the same again. Just this week, I heard the father of one hostage talking about the tranquilizers he’s taking. These are drugs that people can get addicted to very quickly. There’s a price to all of this. It’s eating away at us.”

What does a typical day look like for you?

“I haven’t worked since that Saturday. My job [clinical psychologist – C.S.] belongs to a previous universe. Now my job is getting hostages back. Meetings, Zoom conferences, setting up appointments, organizing meetings and recovering from meetings. It involved a huge amount of tension and pressure. Last night, I was awake from four-thirty until six. I woke up and remembered a very difficult conversation I had had with one of the ministers and I couldn’t fall asleep again. I kept replaying it in my head. What could I have said differently to get him on our side? In the end, these are the people who will vote on Chaim’s fate. There’s no other way to describe it. We hardly sleep at all, which comes at a price, but we do not have the privilege of not holding ourselves together. How can I fall apart when Chaim is still in Gaza?”

Reut Even-Tov: "After the IDF uncovered the tunnel and there was an interview with Adina Moshe, it took me a week before I dared to watch it. I find it deeply disturbing to see the conditions, the cages, the mental torture of a place like that."

‘Some Families Couldn’t Get Out of Bed’

The National Insurance Institute pays for emotional counseling for the families of civilian hostages, while the Defense Ministry pays for soldiers’ families – but not all of the families even want support. “We hear a lot of people telling us that this isn’t the right time and that we should contact them again once their loved ones have been freed from Gaza,” one welfare professional tells Shomrim. Those families who are also dealing with murdered loved ones tell us that maybe they’ll think about counseling after the 30-day mourning period.”

Mirit Regev, whose children Mia and Itay were abducted from the rave on Kibbutz Re’im and released on consecutive days, recalls the feeling of helplessness while her son and daughter were being held in Gaza. “I met with a psychologist three times and each time I left halfway through the session. I asked her: ‘What can you possibly tell me, when my two children are in captivity? How can you give me strength?’”

What did she say?

“She mumbled something. For the first few weeks, it felt like I was living a nightmare. I lay awake in bed at night with my heart pounding from anxiety. I’d remember how Itay and Mia would come back from their jobs in the restaurant and Mia would say, ‘Hi, Mommy, what’s up?’ And they weren’t there. My whole body would shake. After three or four hours of fitful sleep I would wake up and have to remind myself that it’s real, that Mia and Itay are really in Gaza. And I knew I wasn’t the only one, that there were another 240 parents just like me.”

How do you recover from that and keep living?

“Slowly. I used to sit on the floor in the living room and cry. And then I would get dressed and go out to give interviews, meetings, anything in order to feel like I am not just sitting around waiting. I didn’t have an appetite at all and I only ate when I needed to. You don’t feel like doing anything and doing things helps you hold things together. I knew some families who couldn’t even get out of bed. I had to do something to make myself stronger.”

Did you see a psychologist?

“Yes, I’ve been seeing the same woman and I very much look forward to our sessions. I feel like I need that space, to share everything that I am going through. I don’t feel like burdening all this craziness on my friends, who basically moved into my house and spent every night while my kids were in Gaza, because it’s not something small. Life now is no less challenging.”

In what way?

“They’re home and they are alive, thank God. But I do not understand how I am functioning physically at all. I have half an hour to breathe in the morning when I drink coffee – and the battle starts. I have a son who was in Hamas captivity and while it’s true that he goes to practice and meets friends at the café, I worry about his emotional state. And I have Mia, who is undergoing rehabilitation at Sheba Hospital with surgeries and physiotherapy. And their little brother, who, like the sibling in the other hostages’ families, feels invisible because we were so preoccupied with Mia and Itay when they were hostages and now that they’re home we’re surrounding them. These siblings are rightly angry.”

It’s like bringing a new baby home. Your children were reborn.

“Totally. Mia and Itay’s lives were turned upside down – as was mine.”

Are you back to work yet?

“I went back a month after they were freed. I’m a sales executive in an insurance company, which allows me to work from anywhere, so I hold business meetings at the hospital since I sleep there with Mia twice a week. And I am still part of the struggle. If I get a call from the Hostages and Missing Families Forum asking for my children to appear on television to raise awareness, then I make sure it happens. We will do whatever we can. We are part of this family.”

Do you feel at ease meeting with the families of hostages who are still in Gaza? Your children are safe, but their relatives are not. Is that awkward?

“There are different conversations that you have with families whose loved ones have returned and those that are still waiting. You talk differently with the ones who are waiting. I don’t complain to them about my problems now because it’s obvious that, from their perspective, it’s better to be in my position – no matter how difficult it is – than to be in their shoes. My daughter is alive. She’ll recover and she’ll walk and dance. She and Itay will get back into some kind of routine and this war will end. And those families are still deep in the whole thing.”

"They’re home and they are alive, thank God. But I do not understand how I am functioning physically at all. I have half an hour to breathe in the morning when I drink coffee – and the battle starts."

‘What the Public Sees is Just for Show’

“When hostages return, the families’ emotional turmoil doesn’t end, it just changes,” says one professional counselor who has been working with families from the Gaza border communities. They saw their homes go up in flames and their friends and family murdered. They have to deal with these demons, in addition to complex treatment for the freed hostage. When the families spent time with the released hostage in hospital things were relatively simple because they had a psychologist with them around the clock. When they are released from hospital and treatment moves into the community, the difficulties begin.”

Does this not come from a place of good intentions – instead of continuing treatment in the hospital, which is located far from their home, they are allowed to choose a therapist closer to home, who might be more suitable?

“The problem is that the state leaves it up to the families to deal with and there are some families who can’t even manage to pick up the phone and make an appointment at the moment.”

The public sees the young hostages who have been freed posting videos on TikTok and giving interviews. There’s a sense that everything is under control.

“Nothing is okay and nothing is under control. Not for them and not for their families. Some of the parents have visibly aged overnight. There are children who have terrible anxiety, who have angry and tearful outbursts, who don’t sleep at night because of the nightmares, the dark and the dangers. They fall asleep in the early hours and then can’t get up for school. They just cannot conceive of going back to school right now. The integration that the public sees is just for show. Only those families who feel capable of giving interviews do so. There are many who don’t.”

For some people, the most effective kind of support is informal, almost incidental. “There are some families who actually vent their pain through the bureaucratic assistance that we give them,” says Anat Mordechai, a senior nurse at Hadassah and the medical coordinator for the Hostages and Missing Families Forum. “We fill out the forms together and they talk to us. For some families, we send several therapists because each family member needs a different type of treatment. It is such an extraordinary challenge. We have had to rewrite all the theories of psychological treatment.”

Uri Slonim, an attorney who has advised several Israeli defense ministers on hostages and MIAs and who is now working with the Hostages and Missing Families Forum, says that “the variety of challenges here is endless. There’s no rulebook for this kind of thing. Some people take a lot of tranquilizers and others don’t take anything. The Forum’s medical team helps anyone it can – emotionally or physically. Many people with preexisting conditions find that their ailments have deteriorated. The turmoil, from despair to hope, is excruciatingly cruel. Hundreds of social workers and psychologists that I have spoken to say that everything they studied in university is no longer relevant. And when you do think that you’ve finally grasped it, at the end of the day you realize you don’t know anything.”

In some families, the parents disagreed over the nature of the struggle. Sometimes, this was resolved by one parent withdrawing inward and insisting on maintaining a routine. That parent would look after the other children, who became invisible under the new order of priorities, or went back to work. The second parent took on the role of representing the family to the outside world. Sometimes, the crisis between the parents was more profound and threatened the unity of the family.

Among those who attended the Nova music festival, there were some cases where both parents were utterly broken and one of the siblings stepped into the media and public exposure – until they, too, collapsed. “There was one young man who took on too much because his parents weren’t functional,” says one therapist who has been working with the families. “Now,  he is very hard to communicate with and it’s also difficult to get him involved in the struggle like he used to be. He went through depression and anxiety and has withdrawn into himself. There was also one parent who had a nervous breakdown and had to be hospitalized because he couldn’t stand the pressure of the kidnapping and the impact on his family.”

What is the situation like for families where some have returned and some are still in captivity?

“We are completely aware that the families where the fathers are still being held hostage and the children have been released will not be able to live normal lives as long as there is no closure and the father – or a significant person with whom the children bonded while in captivity – is not returned. Their rehabilitation process will not go smoothly until that happens.”

“Mom knows that by the time she left Gaza, the potable drinking water had run out. And that weighs on her all the time. Every time she has a glass of water, she’s reminded that Dad doesn’t have – and that’s something very hard to deal with. Survivor’s guilt."

‘My Sisters and I Don’t Leave Mom Alone’

The Ben-Ami family, from Kibbutz Be’eri, is one of those families stuck between the extremes of concern for loved ones who are still being held captive and rehabilitating those who have been released. Raz, the mother, was freed after 57 days of captivity, while her husband Ohad, who was snatched separately, is still there. Their 23-year-old daughter Ella has taken upon herself a huge emotional burden since the very first days after October 7.

“I was in the safe room in the young people’s apartment when I saw footage of my father being kidnapped,” Ella says. “I had an anxiety attack and my partner told me that I have to be quiet and pull myself together, that I couldn’t shout because there were terrorists outside. When a group of people were evacuated from the kibbutz in the evening, I frantically looked for my mother. My big sister just sat at the side crying. I said to her, ‘This isn’t the time. Now we have to fight.’ And from that second, I became sort of indifferent, I put my emotions to one side. And I am fully functioning all the time. At first, it was easy. Now, it’s oppressive.”

Did your mother’s return release some of that tension?

“Yes and no. We had a few very nerve-wracking hours on the day of the release. When we saw her on television being handed over to the Red Cross, I had another sort of anxiety attack. A lot of emotions erupted at that moment because I allowed myself a moment of release. I took a tranquilizer so that I could function again and be strong when we were reunited. Since she’s back, my sisters and I haven't left her alone. One of us is always with her. The very fact that we know what is happening in Gaza, because we have a living witness at home who talks about what happened there, intensifies our concern for Dad.”

What has she told you?

“Mom knows that by the time she left Gaza, the potable drinking water had run out. And that weighs on her all the time. Every time she has a glass of water, she’s reminded that Dad doesn’t have – and that’s something very hard to deal with. Survivor’s guilt. So, now we’re dealing with two different things: worrying about Mom, her illness and her rehabilitation; and worrying about Dad’s release.”

Have you been for psychological therapy?

“We are offered it all the time, but Mom says that no psychologist can get Dad back. We don’t feel like we can process what’s happened as long as Dad isn’t here – and we don’t have time for therapy and the struggle. I haven’t addressed the trauma I went through even once. We don’t even discuss the trauma that Mom endured there because she doesn’t feel like this is the right time.”

It's very hard to function like that. It’s been more than four months and it still isn’t over.

“During the first month, I couldn’t go to bed without a tranquilizer. I stopped taking them because they made me tired during the day and I had things to do and had to function. At first, I was running on adrenaline, but not now. I’m exhausted and drained and I’m motivated by longing and pain – but I don’t have the luxury of letting go or taking a day off because my Dad doesn’t have any days off.”

How are you sleeping now?

“It takes me hours to fall asleep. I lie in bed with my eyes open because when I close them, I have horrible visions of my father. I am terrified for his life and that affects everything I do. I don’t take pleasure in anything, either. Everything seems pointless.”

Are there moments when you allow yourself to be happy, like when there’s talk of a hostage-release deal?

“During the first month, I was in a frenzy every time there was talk of a deal and every time it was like a slap in the face – so now I don’t let it move me. We are still connected all the time to the news and to Telegram because I don’t trust the authorities to inform us before the rumors start and the media starts reporting things. I wasn’t an internet addict before. On the contrary, I was one of those people who didn’t really connect. Now I don’t have any choice.”

"When I go to sleep with a duvet and the air conditioner warming the room, I think about how he’s sleeping or whether he’s cold. Or if I take a painkiller for a headache, I think about what might be hurting him and how he doesn’t have medicine.”

‘There are Family WhatsApp Groups Where People Can Let Go’

Nofar Buchshtav, a 29-year-old student whose brother Yagev was taken hostage from Kibbutz Nirim, also talks about her sense of guilt and the trouble she has falling asleep at night. “During the day,” she says, “there’s no time for thoughts because we are too busy fighting to get Yagev back. So, the toughest time is at night, when the thoughts come flooding back, or when I suddenly have a free hour in the middle of the day. That’s when the reality that my brother is in Gaza hits me.”

What do you find most difficult?

“The guilt. When I go to sleep with a duvet and the air conditioner warming the room, I think about how he’s sleeping or whether he’s cold. Or if I take a painkiller for a headache, I think about what might be hurting him and how he doesn’t have medicine.”

Have there been ups and downs?

“In the first few weeks, I would wake up and ask, ‘What did I wake up for?’ That was a time of constant crying and inability to understand how to continue. Doing things helped me out of it. When Yagev’s wife, Rimon, was freed, it was very reassuring on the one hand because she said that Yagev was strong and that he wasn’t injured. On the other hand, it really brings reality crashing down on you. Being busy had helped us to repress everything until then, but now we know only too well how bad the situation there is.”

Did the rescue of Fernando and Louis give you energy?

“We’re delighted, but also very afraid that they will decide that this is the only way from now on. A military rescue operation can also end in tragedy and you do not want to be on that side of the equation. Military pressure and heroic operations will not rescue 134 hostages. I wish it worked that way but there’s too many hostages. We need to keep working for their release as part of the deal. Two people is a world unto itself and there are so many more left there.”

What does your routine look like now?

“The extended family has really rallied round. Throughout the day, everyone is busy doing something for the hostages and in the event we eat dinner together, which really gives us strength. Sometimes, we even laugh and wonder what Yagev would think if he saw his photograph plastered everywhere. He would freak out and run back to Gaza. Yagev is a very private and introverted person. Suddenly, everyone knows all about him and his life has become public.”

Have you had psychological counseling?

 “We don’t feel that it’s appropriate at the moment. What helps me is talking to the groups of students who come to Hostage Square. When Yagev is back, I’m sure we’ll all go to therapy. It’s impossible to process something so massive.”

Are there family support groups?

“There’s a WhatsApp group for all the families, where people sometimes let everything go. We are very different families but because of our shared fate we understand each other a lot better than people on the outside. We have a families’ room at Hostage Square, where you don’t need to explain anything to anybody. Even when you’ve had a rough day and you don’t feel like talking – that’s okay.”

One person who is highly selective in her consumption of news is Idit Ohel, whose 22-year-old son Alon was wounded on October 7 and abducted into Gaza. “I can’t watch interviews with the hostages who have been freed,” she says. “Each one has their own story, which is different from the others. There’s no point in me hearing them when I don’t know what Alon’s story is. That would be embedding things that Alon might not have endured – so why should I put those thoughts into my head. Those interviews are for viewers who don’t have a loved one being held hostage.”

You must have a lot of self-control to shut yourself off from information.

“I realized within just a few days that I have no control over what happened to Alon but I do have control over my own actions and over the home to which Alon will return, so everything that I have done since then has stemmed from that realization. Alon loves music and we are planning some projects in that area. All the interviews I give and everything I say are aimed at Alon, who might hear me and be proud of me. It doesn’t matter if it happens while he’s in captivity or when he gets back. Obviously, there are moments when I break down and cry because I miss him so much, but that is not what controls me. I get myself back on an even keel very quickly. I send positive energy to Alon every morning and console him from afar.”