One Month In: 'I Haven't Slept for Days' – Iranians Share Stories of Desperation Amidst War

A Nation Holds Its Breath: The Human Cost of One Month of War in Iran

Warning: This article contains details some readers may find distressing.

For many residents of Tehran, the escalating conflict felt distant until a sudden, earth-shattering moment. For Setareh and her colleagues, the war was an abstract concept, confined to news reports until an ominous noise and violent tremors shook their office building.

“I think it’s a bomb,” Setareh shouted to her workmates, prompting them to abandon their desks and race to the rooftop. “We saw smoke rising into the sky, but we didn’t know what place had been targeted,” she recalls. The immediate aftermath plunged the company into pandemonium. “People were shouting and screaming and running away. For one to two hours the situation stayed like that – complete chaos.” That same day, her employer closed the business, leaving Setareh and her colleagues jobless.

Despite stringent state censorship, the BBC has gathered powerful testimonies from a diverse group of Iranians across the country, utilizing trusted local sources. We protect Setareh’s identity and profession to safeguard her from the regime’s secret police. We can, however, share that she is a young woman from Tehran who cherished her work, the camaraderie with friends, shared stories, and the security of a weekly wage.

The Psychological Toll: 'I Haven't Slept for Days'

The constant threat of nightly bombings has since robbed Setareh of natural sleep. She now finds herself lying awake, consumed by worry for both the present and an uncertain future.“I haven’t slept for days,”Setareh confides, her voice laden with exhaustion. “I try to relax by taking very strong painkillers just to get some rest. The anxiety is so intense it’s affected my body. When I think about the future and imagine those conditions, I truly don’t know what to do.”

“Those conditions” refer to the looming specter of economic hardship and her deep fear of future street fighting between the regime and its adversaries. The war has cost Setareh her job, and her savings are rapidly dwindling.

Iran's Deepening Economic Desperation

Millions of Iranians find themselves in a similar precarious position. The national economy was already in deep crisis before the conflict, with food prices soaring by 60% in the preceding year. Setareh vividly describes the mounting desperation as people exhaust their resources for survival.

“We cannot afford even basic food. What’s in our pockets does not match market prices,” she explains. “Iran has also been under sanctions for years, and the problems created by the Islamic Republic mean that during this time we couldn’t build any savings, at least enough to survive now or depend on something. To put it simply, the people I thought might have money to lend also don’t have anything.”

This severe economic hardship fueled the massive nationwide protests of late 2025 and early 2026, and Setareh is convinced history will repeat itself. “I don’t know how this massive wave of unemployment will be handled. There is no support system and the government will do nothing for all these unemployed people. I believe the real war will start if this war ends without any outcome.” The outcome she desperately desires is the collapse of the current regime.

Voices from Across Iran: A Society Under Strain

Our network of sources across six different cities includes conversations with a diverse cross-section of society: shopkeepers, taxi drivers, public sector workers, and more. All report increasing economic pressure, and most express a fervent hope that the war might finally lead to the downfall of the government.

Healthcare on the Brink: Tina's Story

“Tina,” a nurse working in a hospital outside Tehran, voices grave concerns about impending medicine shortages. “The shortage is not yet widespread, but it is starting,” she warns. “The most important issue is that this war must not reach hospitals. If the conflict continues and infrastructure is targeted and medicines cannot be imported, then we will face very serious problems.”

Tina is haunted by the graphic images of war casualties she has witnessed in recent weeks. Bodies arriving at the hospital post-bombing were often “not recognisable… some had no hands, some had no legs – it was horrifying.” A particularly poignant memory is that of a pregnant young woman caught in an air strike early in the war.

“Because of bombardment in her area – her home was close to a military centre – their house was damaged. When they brought her to the hospital, neither the mother nor the foetus was alive. Both had died. She had been just two months away from giving birth but sadly neither she nor her baby survived. It was a very terrible situation.”

Echoes of History: A Nurse's Reflection

This tragedy is made more impactful by Tina’s own family history. Her mother was pregnant with her during the Iran-Iraq war of the 1980s, recounting tales of fleeing to bomb shelters as Iraqi missiles rained down. That conflict claimed nearly a million lives, with Iran enduring the heaviest casualties. This legacy inspired Tina to become a nurse.

“Hearing those stories always made me stop and think, to imagine myself in those circumstances and place myself in her situation. Now, I find myself in the same kind of situation my mother once faced. I cannot believe how quickly history repeats itself.”

The Perilous Price of Dissent: Behnam's Struggle

Any public expression of dissent in Iran carries extreme danger. The regime deploys its internal security forces and loyalist paramilitaries to patrol the streets, leading to arrests, torture, and executions. Iranians are acutely aware of the risks involved in speaking out.

During January’s anti-government demonstrations, the regime brutally suppressed protests, killing thousands of its own citizens. “Behnam,” a former political prisoner, believes they would readily repeat such violence. He keeps a supply of antibiotics and painkillers in his flat, a grim preparation for potential renewed street violence. Still in hiding after being shot during the last protests, Behnam holds up an X-ray of his torso, revealing the metal fragments embedded in his body.

“They ambushed us in one of the alleys – the alley leading to the square. They fired bullets and tear gas,” he recounts. “Once you see how easily your life can be threatened – that a simple incident or a twist of fate can mean death or survival – after that, your life no longer holds the same value for you. And that experience makes you care less about yourself.”

As a child, Behnam absorbed his parents’ accounts of regime brutality. Fear defined their lives. He heard stories of family members having fingernails pulled out by the Revolutionary Guards, and the humiliation and agony of a male relative subjected to heavy weights tied to his testicles during torture.

“We all grew up knowing someone talented in our family – a cousin, an uncle, an aunt – whose future was destroyed just because another relative had been involved in banned political activity,” he says. “I will not heal until the day we are free and in a free world [can] look back on the suffering we endured in an unfree world, and in the end laugh at it. I am certain that day will come.”

A Distant Laughter

One month into the war, with US President Donald Trump threatening to bomb Iran “back to the stone ages” and regime repression intensifying, the prospect of such laughter seems tragically far away for many Iranians.

Additional reporting by Alice Doyard.