Everything around me serves as a constant reminder of war time.

No matter how hard I try, no matter how consistent I am with taking my pills, some flashbacks are bound to happen. A simple glimpse would summon a torrent of unwanted memories.

Pandora’s Box

The other day, I was helping my dad around the garden. He was trimming the palm tree and cutting branches. I was grabbing some things from the tool shed. Here it was, the aid box we received from the Red Cross. – I ended up working for them, went full circle there, from a beneficiary to service provider -.

That box served as a subtle but firm reminder. The days we spent in forced displacement, the months we spent away from home. Needing help and shelter.

A bulletproof reminder

Today, as I was walking to the mosque, I come across a wall that was covered in bullet holes. I had to veer off the path and take a picture of it. A reminder that this once was a battle field, and can be again – God forbid – without warning.

Perhaps it’s better to leave all this behind? The answer to these woes is to start fresh, at a new place. Away from the memories engraved in every wall.

My meditations

I’ve been thinking about this very topic a lot lately, despite the daunting task of moving from one place to another. The concept that I am exploring is: You can’t heal in the same environment that hurt you. I believe that everyone in the family (myself included) would benefit from a fresh start, at a new place.

I close off this post, with a lyric by Rise against. From a song called: People Live Here.

“when we’re all just ghosts
and the madness overtakes us
i will scream to the sky
yeah I’ll scream to the sky
yeah I’ll scream to the sky
hey people live here.”