I am a woman from Gaza, married with three children. At the beginning of the war, I was displaced to my parents’ home with my children. We stayed there for a week after the war started, and by the end of that week, my family’s house was bombed while we were inside. Half of my family was martyred, and I was injured. My children survived.

My husband had been displaced with his family to one of the UNRWA schools. After my family was killed, I went to join my husband. Two weeks later, the school we were staying in was bombed as well. My husband was injured, and I survived again with my children.

The situation became unbearable, so I fled to the south with my children alone my husband asked me to go without him. I started moving from one place to another in the south because the situation was extremely dangerous, and my children were very young. I went through all that alone.

After five months of displacement in the south, life became terrifying—Gaza was full of destruction, hunger, and death. Despite all the fear, devastation, and displacement, I decided to return to Gaza through aid trucks. God sent me kind people who helped me get back because life in the south had become impossible for me to endure alone.

Since returning, I’ve been living in shelters, constantly moving from place to place. Then the famine came, and I lived the hardest moments of my life alone with my children. My husband is sick and unable to cope; I care for him like a small child. I’ve faced dangers and hardships that only God knows.

I am still young, yet life has crushed me. Until now, I continue to suffer and call out for help for someone to save me and my children. We have no shelter left, no place to call home. We keep moving from one spot to another, and no one recognizes our suffering.