During her early years Aya had attachment problems, she used to cry her heart out each time her mum went out. I still remember how she used to scream for her mum to come back, and it breaks my heart. It breaks my heart because her mum used to come back. It breaks my heart because Aya was reinforced each time she went through this panic. It breaks my heart because She wasn’t treated. It breaks my heart because it grew with her. It grew with her, anxiety grew with her since her very early years. Anxiety at a certain age was no longer embodied in an attachment issue, but then in claustrophobia. And it was back then that She Started facing all the stigma, She used to be ashamed by my phobia because She s all grown up and “phobias are for kids”. This grew with her as well, till the time She decided to go in Psychology. Her junior year was the worst, Aya started to have panic attacks, her anxiety was part of her every day living, and She started to be more and more anxious about the very little things. It was unbearable, the feeling. That feeling of unreality where you just sit there look around and ask what am I doing here? Why are these people smiling? The feeling of having the heart sit beside you and be your enemy, the feeling where you just pray that this moment will be the worst and not the coming one.
Her twin used to sit next to her, hold her so close and tell her”let us share what you’re feeling”, let us share it. And Aya thought it was something She couldn’t stand anymore, to the day it showed her it could actually get worse. That day when her twin Naya had her first panic attack. They were both just looking at each other, tears in their eyes and assuring each other that they’re okay, but they weren’t. I remember that night She was out with some friends because She learnt in my abnormal book that distractors can help. But they didn’t. She was crying all night long and hoped She can wake up from that nightmare. Naya called her, to make sure Shes fine. And Aya lied. She told her that Shes not feeling any bad symptom and told her to sleep. Naya told Aya she was fine too, and hang up both believing that the other one is doing fine. Aya came back home and found a mountain of tissues next to naya’s bed. She was crying too. She was crying herself to sleep. Going through all that was not their choice. But what they could choose is treatment. They chose that road, they both started therapy and were put on treatment. And here is all the story. Whats better than the feeling of healing?Whats better than seeing the sisters smile again? Whats better than writing this down and remembering those sad moments. But at the end, what doesn’t kill makes you stronger. And Aya chose not to take these as her weaknesses. Aya chose to view them as the points of strength, and Ill tell you how: these are the times where all her future clients will be telling her about, without knowing how to verbalize them. But Aya will be totally aware of what these feel like, and will know how bad they want to be done with this. Aya will know, Aya will know.
Farah W. Semaan