For over a month, Michal Weits has had suitcases packed by the front door of her house in [location not specified].
“We’ve had our bags ready for weeks,” she said. “Three weeks ago, there were rumors that the U.S. would attack Iran that night. At midnight, we woke the kids up and drove north, where it’s supposed to be safer.”
Weits, the artistic director of the international documentary film festival Docaviv, is speaking from her own traumatic experience. During [a certain event not specified], an Iranian missile struck her Tel Aviv home. She, her husband, and their two young children were in the safe room when it collapsed on her.
“After an Iranian missile hit our home and we lost everything we had, we also lost the feeling of ‘it won’t happen to me,'” she said. “We’re prepared as much as is really possible.”
Weits remembers the surreal contrast of those days. Four days after being injured in the missile strike, while still in the hospital, she was told she had won an [award not specified] for the documentary she produced about the Nova massacre on Oct. 7.
“Four days earlier, an 800 – kilogram explosive missile fell on our home and I was injured, and four days later I woke up on my birthday to news that I had won an Emmy,” she said. “It can’t be more surreal than this. That’s the experience of being Israeli, from zero to one hundred.”
She says Israelis have learned to live within that swing. “Despite all this, life goes on,” she said. “Kids go to school, you go to the supermarket, Purim comes and you prepare, and you don’t know if any of it will actually happen. We didn’t make plans for this weekend because we don’t know what will happen.”
That gap – between visible routine and private fear – defines this moment. The fear she describes is now part of the national atmosphere.
On the surface, Israel seems normal. The beaches are crowded in the warm weather. Cafés are full. The Tel Aviv Stock Exchange has risen in recent days. Children go to school as Israelis prepare for the Jewish holiday of Purim and costumes are being readied.
But inside homes and across local news broadcasts, one question looms large: when will it happen? When will President Donald Trump decide whether to strike Iran – and what will that mean for Israel?
Prime Minister [name not specified] has instructed the Home Front Command and emergency services to prepare for possible escalation, with Israeli media reporting a state of “maximum alert” across security bodies.
Speaking at an officer graduation ceremony this week, Netanyahu warned Tehran: “If the ayatollahs make a mistake and attack us, they will face a response they can’t even imagine.” He added that Israel is “prepared for any scenario.”
The military message was echoed by the IDF. “We are monitoring regional developments and are aware of the public discourse [context not clear],” IDF Spokesperson Brig. Gen. Effie Defrin said. “The IDF remains vigilant in defense, our eyes are open in every direction and our readiness in response to any change in the operational reality is greater than ever.”
Yet the psychological shift inside Israel is deeper than official statements.
For years, Israelis lived with [a situation not specified]. The Iranian strikes felt different.
“The level of destruction from Iran was something Israelis hadn’t experienced before,” said Israeli Iran expert Benny Sabti. “People are used to rockets from Gaza. This was a different scale of damage. It created real anxiety.”
Iron Dome, long regarded as nearly impenetrable, was less effective against heavier Iranian missiles. Buildings collapsed. Entire neighborhoods were damaged.
“People are still traumatized,” Sabti said. “They’ve been living on the edge for a long time now.”
At the same time, he stressed that the country is better prepared today.
“There are feelings, and there are facts,” Sabti said. “The facts are that Israel is better prepared now. The military is doing serious preparation. They learned from the last round.”
The earlier wave of protests inside Iran had sparked hope in Israel that internal pressure might weaken or overthrow the regime. Weits told [media name not specified] Digital, “I’m angry at the Iranian government, not the Iranian people. I’ll be the first to travel there when it’s possible. I hope they’ll be able to be free – that all of us will be able to be free.”
Despite losing her home and suffering hearing damage from the blast, she says the greater loss was psychological. “There’s no more complacency,” she said. “The ‘it won’t happen to me’ feeling is gone.”
Across Israel, that sentiment resonates.