I grew up in chaos
I was raised among an extended family full of problems, and a camp full of stories of blood, weapons, and vendettas. Our life at home was chaos, with no privacy or space of safety, and I would see nothing but weapons and hear nothing but shouting, and naturally, with time, I became shy, withdrawn, and isolated. The experience of family problems made me a violent person at school, and I started to practise violence against them and hurt them, and that is why I did not know how to make friendships with any of the girls.
The need for support and encouragement
Even so, when asked about my childhood, I say it was nice and fun in a strange way. Childhood, even if incomplete, still has moments of play. The problem was the lack of support for studying. During Tawjihi, the army entered our house often and my brothers were imprisoned; the pressure and fear led me to neglect my studies. When it was time for university, there was not enough income. My father offered to take on extra work, but I refused because of his health. It was a difficult decision: to stop my dream so I would not tire him more. Interestingly, my family was very invested in my brothers’ education. While my father is kind and supportive, my mother differentiates between me and my brothers. That discrimination used to affect me, but now it does not.
Successive responsibilities and traumas
The hardest day in my life was the day my eldest brother was arrested. He was my support. He was the only one who encouraged me to study and understood me. After he was gone, I felt the house was empty. His absence made me face everything on my own. At the same time, my mother entered a state of depression and lost a lot of weight, and I was 13 years old, and I had a little sister who was two years old. Suddenly I became the one carrying the house, carrying my sister, and carrying my fear. I was very tired. But there was no choice. From there, “hardness” began to grow in me. I became rigid. And I became irritable.
And because violence was the language of the place, I started to deal violently with those around me, and to hurt. Not because I am bad, but because I did not know another way. I used to see blood and problems in front of me all the time, so I became like them without noticing. After all of that, I became even more isolated. As if it was not enough, my little sister became ill. She had open-heart surgery, and she developed electrical activity in the brain and seizures. This affected me a lot.
A turning point
After a period, a counsellor advised my mother to stop the medication and live her normal life. Her condition improved but worsened again after my brother’s arrest. Neighbours and aunts encouraged her to join a psychosocial support group, where we noticed a very big difference: she returned to her former self, loving life and able to carry responsibilities.
She encouraged me to participate too. At first, I felt it was strange, but then I was happy and learned how to deal with people and enter society without being tense. The sessions had a clear impact; I have become calmer and more controlled in my reactions. For me, this is an achievement because I used to live on the edge of exploding.
I know what I want
When I look in the mirror, I feel that I’m a person who is confident in herself, who knows what she wants and how to set her goals. I know how to control my feelings and my irritability. And this isrecovery. Recovery does not mean “I have finished everything” but: “I am no longer lost inside fear”.
My message to every girl to live what I lived and wait for someone to lift her up: do not care about anyone’s opinion. Focus on your studies. And do not wait for encouragement from anyone.