Whenever something would scare me, my mother would always give me a glass of cold water or tell me to take a bath. “Agua para el susto,” she would say. Water for the fright.

I never quite understood what she meant by adding water to fear—was it to wash the fear off metaphorically? Or was there another hidden meaning behind it? Even so, it could have been another old wives’ tale that my mother believed in. Even so, water seemed to be more useful than harmful. A cold drink sounded lovely.

And though I can’t prove it, it’s now the first thing I tell my children when something scares them.

***

I saw my friend, a high-ranking elected official in my city, appear on my screen early Tuesday morning. He gave a warning: there were rumors of ICE agents appearing in a predominantly Latino part of Omaha.

When I first moved here, well over a decade ago, I found it strange how evenly the Omaha area was portioned out. I later learned that was by design—redlining is how the city was divided up. Having grown up in an area where that was not the norm, I found it strange that I had to cross into another part of town to find the little Latino markets. It was the way that it was—cut and dry.

But that Tuesday morning inflamed my soul. For a while, this possibility was brewing. It started in California, but pockets across the United States began to light up with alarm. Down the street, at a brunch place 2 miles down the road from my neighborhood, a man who looked like my dad was shoved to the ground and detained for deportation. This morning, however, there were buses.

I still can’t believe the method of transportation—buses. Buses are designed to transport people from one destination to another. I grew up taking the bus because we couldn’t afford a car. Buses were necessary for daily transportation to school, work, and grocery stores. Even my own father wasn’t detained on a bus with a group of people. This is new.

I felt the fear growing—my muscles all tensed. By mid-afternoon, my shoulders ached.

***

“The body keeps the score: If the memory of trauma is encoded in our senses, in muscle tension, and in anxiety, then the body must also be involved in the healing process.” This wisdom from “The Body Keeps the Score” should be noted, as some of us are in the middle of reeling from the horrifying news of watching people be ripped from their homes, families, and jobs.

Take the wisdom from my mother—drink water for the fright. Cry. Take a bath. For my friends who are allies, do the same and encourage your friends to take care of themselves. Because like prized fighters who take respite in the corner, we have to hydrate and gear up for the next round.

If I learned anything from the experience of having my father be taken at a young age, it’s that it takes several rounds of drinking water, pressing forward, but also remember that it’s going to take a toll.

***

For anyone who wants to help, wherever you are, take note of the immigration and legal nonprofits that are currently overwhelmed with work.

In Omaha, that’s CIRA, the Center for Immigrant and Refugee Advancement. They have an excellent set of resources and a guide to rights that can be found here. Provide donations here.

Here are some other national organizations you can support:

• Immigrant Legal Resource Center

• American Civil Liberties Union

• United We Dream

• National Network for Immigrant and Refugee Rights

This is also how you can be an effective witness:

• Record, record, record. If you see a person detained, to the best of your ability, get any information such as the phone number of a loved one and their name. Take note of the badge numbers of ICE agents, license plates, or any other identifiers. Write down the time of day and location where the incidents occurred.

• Contact your elected officials—mayors, governors, other elected officials (in my case, our commissioner was extraordinarily helpful).

• Ask questions.

I’m also sure I missed a lot—feel free to share your ideas below.

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Above all—stay hydrated.