"Home"

This is a story I started writing months ago, but was too scared to publish. If you liked it I will make it a series. Enjoy!

Sarah came back home from work. She must’ve been too exhausted during the flights and transit and running and heavy backpack of hers to even think about what she’s on the verge of doing or what to expect. She didn’t even slightly care to fix her messy hijab or put some ChapStick on her dry lips. She has been on a long journey, that hasn’t even ended yet, no-one was expecting her to look like a daisy.

Sarah’s dark eyes were searching everywhere for her beloved ones when she was exiting the airport gate, pulling her luggage behind her. She found her mother and aunt waiting and when their eyes met, the two sisters screamed of joy and called her name loudly. Hugs, kisses, tears of joy and “how are you?” ’s.

After many consecutive questions in the car, Sarah had the chance to speak, describing the flight, telling few anecdotes and sharing some news. The ladies had almost nothing to share, nothing exciting happens at their small city Damanhur anymore. Or at least that’s what they told her.

A small party was thrown to celebrate her arrival, at the warm family apartment. As usual, proud neighbors and friends were invited. The preparations took too long and too much effort but her aunt, Manal, and mother, Alia, don’t mind it because they love and care about Sarah. Typical motherly instincts. And they, above all, miss her so much they keep reminding each other. Shady, Sarah’s brother, was occasionally complaining about the overreacting, in a “She comes back twice a year anyway” way. Boys.

“Wear the pink dress you have. It’ll look great on you.” said Alia, who came to Sarah’s room to find her staring at the dresser. She might’ve been thinking but her mother wasn’t sure.

“No. I look terrible in it.” snapped Sarah turning her mother’s face blue and eyes evil, hurt or broken, she couldn’t tell. She literally wiped her mother’s smile off.

“Then don’t!” A yelling. Sarah’s years of living away gradually deleted some unhappy memories, similar to this incident. However, each vacation she flies back home, she remembers why she chose to leave in the first place. Besides, of course, improving her career. And getting a degree.

Shady came and asked what was going on and his mother complained about Sarah always being rude and ungrateful. “She’ll never change...I’m sick of this!” Shady was dead sure his mother will cry this day. Sooner or later.

To be fair, Alia became extremely used to sobbing only after The Incident That Shall Not Be Shared. She cries when she remembers. Her general mood stopped her from doing anything and only allowed her to sit and rethink everything. She cries after drinking her last soda can, not in a childish way, but because then she’ll have to go outside and buy another six-pack at least. If there’s an accurate term to describe her addiction, it shall be “sodalic”. Her ‘drinking’ habit was the obvious reason behind her huge weight gain, which nobody dares to mention. You don’t tell a depressed woman she gained weight, right?

Sarah suggested that she goes to seek a professional help many, many, times, but her stubborn mother, with outdated beliefs, strongly refused. Reminding her of what she’s been through wasn’t enough. “This is beyond discussion. I’m not mad to go see a therapist! Are you crazy?!” After many attempts, Sarah got tired of trying and kept her mouth shut about Shady going to one…

As much as this family seems to be amical and ideal, their lies and secrets roam in the apartment as if they could be felt or even seen. Each one of them was ignoring this fact, but deep down they know what they are.

Fatal Depression

I almost lost a dear person to suicide, but this article isn't about me. It's about Amy, which is obviously not a real name. And before you ask, yes it's a true story.

Amy is a regular young woman. Or at least that's the first impression everyone has. But under the layers of fake smiles and small talks, she's in deep pain. She suffers from depression and after begging her parents, she sought professional help at last.

The therapist prescribed her some anti-depressants after listening to her for two sessions. She took them regularly, believing in the possibility of living a mentally healthier life. Her mood actually improved a lot in a short period of time, which gave some hope to her beloved ones.

Needless to say, she shared the notion of going to a therapist with only few family members and friends, because of the judgements and stupidity people are capable of. Especially in Egypt. Most people think that going to a psychiatrist means you're crazy. 

She kept visiting the therapist and taking the meds, until her father forbade her, thinking she might become addicted to the pills which will lead to an even worse end. That's what he thought, but was it right? Her sleeping cycles once again became a mess and her chats with people became dull and short, again.

Despite having the majority of what a girl needs, the few things that she lacked became larger in her eyes. Her studies were on top of the list, she can't study anymore, she's just too busy thinking everything in her head and probably blaming herself quite a lot too. But all of these are just my own assumptions, since no-one can read her mind. I bet not even her.

I texted her to see what was going on with her life, especially after the trip she went to.

" I went to the hospital" she said.

The first idea that came up to me was a car accident or maybe she fainted or something. But...

" Poisoning"

And before I could ask her about what she ate, she told me she took ten pills..

" The dose turned out to be less than enough for a coma or death"

I tried to be as calm as possible, so I don't ruin everything. "What happened? Was everything in the trip okay?"

"No, nothing happened. I'm just incapable of becoming happy. I can't anymore" Amy told me.

What should be done now? What can be done to prevent a second and probably final attempt? Her way of talking about the whole thing assures me she'll try again. The thought scares me beyond imagination. My friends and family know quite well I'm not the sensitive type, but the whole thing left me sobbing... Blogging became my way of emptying my soul from all the grief and secrets it carries. God help us...!

No Getting Over

Who amongst us hasn't lost someone dear? I find loss a natural aspect each of us lives at one or more periods of his existence. People handle loss and moving-on differently.

But what must be worse than losing a beloved one to death or suicide, is the inability to regain a normal life. Not necessarily a happy one but a "normal" life. A life where you walk in the streets, looking at the stores and coffee shops and restaurants, without recalling the day you spent shopping together for that special event or the morning you had brunch in that restaurant where you shared laughs about a silly hat another customer wore. Or remembering a deep secret they kept with you and only you, even though no surroundings remind you of it, but you remember it anyway.

You lie in your bed, after a long day of human interactions and fake smiles, crying silently and wishing they were there. Asking why and asking God for some help. You keep questioning the existence of a so-called normal life after your loss, and whether you we are eligible for it. Any cheerful thought invading your mind for even a fraction of a second turns into an hour of guilt: "I don't deserve to be happy." and "How can I allow myself to feel okay when he's not here beside me?".

Others expect you to be miserable after a beloved one's death. You seem to disappoint them if you show the least happiness possible. Extremely nosy ones will talk behind your back, the ugliest words, "How could she be this happy after his death", "I thought she loved him" and "She has no heart"...

Do the dead want us to remember them for ever? Are they expecting to be forgotten after a short or long time? Is it a must to forget someone to be able to move on with your life?

Accepting a death and occasionally remembering the person with a warm smile seems science-fiction at first, but I guess everyone achieves this peaceful state at some point or another. The important thing is to not shame someone for moving on quicker than the rest. If you're miserable, stop trying to drag people around you too.