A Restricted Childhood
I was the first girl after three brothers, and that was enough to make my life surrounded by prohibition and control. I was not allowed to play in the street or go to the shop or simply live as a child. My brothers used to decide for me; they believed that fear for me justified control. Although I loved scientific subjects and dreamed of continuing in this field, and I enrolled in the scientific stream, the school was far away, so they decided that I should move to the literary stream. The decision was imposed on me by force. That day, I felt that something broke inside me. After the Tawjihi, I stayed at home.
I cannot tolerate restrictions. I felt that the walls were closing in on me. I asked my mother to help me, but she was not the one who made the decisions. She enrolled me in a course I thought was cosmetics, then I discovered it was accounting. I got angry, then I submitted, then I found myself excelling. I studied for the diploma and trained in the accounting department at Nablus Municipality, and I was about to work. But once again, I was broken; my brothers refused my work and insisted that I get married.
And They Are the Salvation
I married a freed prisoner, released from Israeli occupation prisons after a life sentence in a prisoner exchange deal in 1999. At the beginning of my marriage, I was very happy, but I was shocked to move from my brothers’ control to my husband’s control and temper. Our marriage was traditional, and life was not easy. I learned how to contain anger, avoid confrontation, and live at the expense of myself and my health. I had to adapt for the sake of my four sons.
The Greatest Loss
Then came the blow I was not ready for: the martyrdom of my eldest son. I was demolished from within and felt that life had stopped. The house became a place weighed down by grief. My husband collapsed, shut himself away, stopped working and living. My sons became scattered, and I moved among them as if I were a shadow. Five months passed as if they were a whole lifetime.
Then came the moment of awakening when I felt that I would lose my other sons. They did not listen to me or to their father, and I felt the danger and resolved to rise. At that point, I decided to ask for help. A mother of a martyr advised me to join psychological support sessions. I went, and that was the beginning of the transformation. At first, I was hesitant and broken, but there I was not alone. We listened and supported one another. I understood that my grief was not weakness, and that recovery does not mean forgetting. Little by little, I began to breathe again.
Recovery and Survival Are a Decision
After I began to recover, I made the hardest decision: I will work. Our financial situation is extremely poor; my husband does not work, and we have no provider except a pension, of which he receives only half. When I told him, he refused strongly and prevented me from going out, and many problems occurred. But I was determined. I said: “Either I work, or I return to my family’s home. But I will not back down.” My brothers supported me and provided me with work so that I could support my family. I faced many problems and left the house more than once, but I knew I was stepping towards life. The support sessions made me more aware and balanced, and strengthened me whenever I felt weak. My husband’s stance did not change much, but he no longer broke me.
Today, I am the owner of an entrepreneurial project: a small kitchen for producing various foods. I work in it with a mother of a martyr, and we participated in an economic empowerment project that helped us develop it. It was not only a kitchen, but a space in which I regained myself. Today I no longer fear people’s words or live to please everyone. I have become strong, resilient, passionate about my work, and I have the ambition to develop my project so that it becomes bigger.
My Message to Every Woman Going Through a Similar Experience
Shake off the cover. Be honest with yourself. Do not wait for anyone. Strive to achieve your goals, for God does not abandon those who strive.