From Ingratitude to Gratitude

How the War Changes you Forever

 

 

 

 

We have this naïve belief that mental health conditions only stem from XYZ factors. The socio-economic and especially the political and war situation of the country contribute more towards worsening the existing and new mental health conditions. Since the Gaza war, we’ve seen how much it has changed our people, and this war, if not stopped, and we see no signs of it stopping, will change the economic, physical and social face of the Middle East and Asia forever, and it will come at a cost of chronic mental health conditions.

 

 

 

Dear Readers,

 

 

 

We share this post to raise awareness of how the current situation can contribute towards worsening of mental health.

The characters and situations in this story are fictional and bear no resemblance to anyone living dead or alive. However, the story, of course, in its essence, portrays the raw feelings of how one feels when their roots are attacked and their people are subject to planned genocide and massacre and yes, the story also depicts the reality of feelings of remorse and regret over chasing pursuits of idealism and sacrificing the real gift of God.

We have this naïve belief that mental health conditions only stem from XYZ factors. The socio-economic and especially the political and war situation of the country contribute more towards worsening the existing and new mental health conditions. Since the Gaza war, we’ve seen how much it has changed our people, and this war, if not stopped, and we see no signs of it stopping, will change the economic, physical and social face of the Middle East and Asia forever, and it will come at a cost of chronic mental health conditions.

 

From Ingratitude to Gratitude

 

How the War Changes you Forever

 

I don’t think I can ever express in words how it feels for a man to feel so restricted and limited in his surroundings.

I’m trying to act normal.

But I can’t.

I’ve tried to sleep but I can’t.

I’ve tried to eat but I can’t.

My doctor tells me I’m sliding back towards Anorexia and has given me medication for appetite, sleep, anxiety and happiness.

People don’t understand and there’s no one on my list of LinkedIn or social media followers who I can share my incomprehensible feelings with.

How can I explain to anyone that fifty members of my family live in a country that is getting bombed by my present home country? How can I tell anyone that my tax money is being used to annihilate my birth country? I idealized this land of opportunities and dreams and now my dreams are shattered and my beliefs erased.

I was never a patriotic person or a religious person. Like many others, I saw my country limiting, restricting and confining. The influence of the media dominated my mind. I wanted the lifestyle of Beverley hills and wanted access to extreme luxury.

 

I was a modern-day man with capitalist pursuits. To achieve my dreams, I forced my family into supporting my move of migration. It took months of silent treatment and not eating for my mother and grandparents to give into my wishes.

They sacrificed their feelings, their beliefs, their emotions to support my delusional dreams. The extent your family will go to support you.

 

Thousands of dollars were raised by selling the property and the gold. It was all against my father’s wishes. Yes, there’s poverty, we are underdeveloped, we don’t have too many jobs, but it’s not self-created but a result of outside sanctions. He would try to reason with me. We are not that bad, look at Guinea, Chad, Mali, we eat four times a day, have an income, house and we have faith and God, he would tell me, be grateful for the favours of Allah.

 

I left never to go back. I worked really hard, and it was my iron-will determination that got me to the enviable social and economic status. I shortened my name from Zain to Z. I worked at my diction, my appearance & my lifestyle. I wanted to blend in.  It all came at a cost of no love, no family, poor eating habits, on and off anorexia and a painful marriage.

The marriage came at the cost of anorexia. We quarrelled and our inner differences and even the accent set us apart. The more I tried to make the relationship work, the sicker I became. It was best when we ended things. The divorce took me financially and mentally down. I was always a self-centred person with no care for the world, here I also become opportunist and materialistic.

I remember when I first came to the USA, there was a blackout in a place called Kashmir. I remember my cab driver breaking down into tears over his no contact with his family for 3 days, and I remember how I felt nothing for him. Well, this is what happens when you remain conservative and unprogressive. You need to catch up with the ****.

In 2024, I was invited to the anti-war movement and I refused.  I had zero interest in any peace-related movements. I lived in the most powerful country in the world, no war could ever touch us here.

Ticking time bomb… TikTok. TIkTok.

 

Day before the War

I felt strange, my heartbeat was fast. I kept on thinking about my grandmother in Iran. She was getting old and a part of me wished to see her. She wouldn’t come here and I couldn’t get to her. Last year, after a bitter divorce, I really missed the support of the family and my people.

The loneliness was horrible, and I felt ostracized and judged. I had no choice but to get professional help. At least my therapist didn’t judge me. I Paid her $*** per week so I felt heard.

My sixth sense signalled danger, discomfort.

I went to bed early without a supper. My anorexic eating habits follow me on an occasional basis.

My only coping mechanism, whether it’s job stress or relationship problems is play around with the food.  I simply stop eating. People think I’m disciplined, but in reality, I’m very sick from the inside.

And the following day, I saw the news flash on our screens in the office, there was a discussion and the conference room was alive with passionate debate on war and the former President.

It was a twisting pain, a blast that started at the base of my neck and spread across my head. My head was so heavy and in pain that I couldn’t breathe, my body went hot, cold and then cold again.  I finished the conference in shocked silence and went home and went blank.

It took hours for me to wake up and more hours for the fog on my brain to lift and the reality to come back. It wasn’t pleasant. I wanted to slide back into the darkness, a land of nothingness.

I saw the doctor few days later, burn out, he told me. You work so hard, he recommended a few day break.

 

I tried to contact my family but failed. After hours, I was able to find out they were OK, but things looked terrible, and they became worse with each passing second, just like they did in Gaza.

More than twenty days into the war and I haven’t left my house, not even to get a carton of milk. No one came to visit, there was one limiting well-being call and then a deafening silence. I couldn’t tell anyone about my connection to the country.

I have taken a shocking emergency leave of absence for an indefinite period.
Every day, I try to call my mother, my cousin, my friend, but no luck. The communication lines are down in Iran and my anxiety is through the roof. I hadn’t prayed since leaving Iran, and now I am constantly in the state of prostration begging God to end the war to save my people. Finally, I got the news: they had left the city for the mountains.

Man is safe neither on the land nor on the sea.

I’d do anything to be with my family, but the ironic reality was once I left, there was no going back. You’ll never come back. Once someone leaves, they never come back. Everything seemed to stare at me, my achievements, my material possessions and my empty lifestyle.

I’ll be OK if the war stops and I meet my family. I try to relive the memories: my childhood, food and love, security, warmth and sunshine. It was a privileged childhood, something I will always remember and miss. My mother’s care, those carefully cooked dishes and pristine room and perfectly ironed clothes.

I’m not sure when the war will stop, but I’ve made my decision to leave the country for my wellbeing and my peace. The reality is, the longer the war goes on, the sicker I will become.
And one day I will see my family InshAllah.