By the Author / Source: abuaram.site
Throughout my entire life, I have moved from one house to another, staying in my deceased father’s home only during the first eight years of my childhood. Numerous other houses followed, most of which were rented homes we were forced to leave due to recurring troubles. The curse of displacement seems to have haunted me from the very beginning; conflicts continuously mounted, forcing my family and me to relocate time and time again.
The initial conflict that forced me out of my childhood home stemmed from troubles with my cousins. My uncle, his wife, and their children were harsh toward us, and his wife was particularly malevolent. Many years later, she is still alive, living right next to that same childhood home, while I am now married with three children of my own.
My deranged cousin—who seemed to be suffering from a psychological or perhaps severe mental disorder—stabbed my mother in the hand with a knife, right before my eyes when I was a child no older than eight. That incident inflicted immense terror and trauma upon my innocent childhood mind. I believe it was the primary trigger that paved the way for my illness, as that shock plunged me into a state of trauma that eventually drifted toward a form of schizophrenia.
Following that trauma, a agonizing sense of guilt began to consume me for failing to properly defend my dear mother. I did not realize that I was merely a child; instead, I felt that I was entering the world and was obligated to do something far greater to protect her. At the time, I could not grasp that I was the victim; rather, I felt I needed to be something more to be capable of defending her.
In later years, as my self-awareness grew and I emerged from that initial realm of schizophrenia, I reconciled with myself. I developed an understanding and compassion toward my conscience and my past feeling of inadequacy regarding my mother’s defense. I came to accept that I was just a small child, that fear was a natural reaction for someone my age, and that I simply lacked the requisite awareness and capacity to defend her as I had wished.
Yet, guilt had overwhelmed me, burdening me with a heavy sense of responsibility, as though I had been a strong man who was supposed to protect his mother and prevent that painful event from happening. During that period, vengeful thoughts consumed me; I began preparing and training to take revenge. I developed a pathological feeling intertwined with fear and constant perception of danger, to the extent that I carried a knife with me every time I left the house during my early teenage years.
On several occasions during street fights with boys my age, I drew the knife, brandishing it defensively against street bullies. In fact, one day, under our country’s tense geopolitical reality, I was confronted by an IDF (Israeli Defense Forces) patrol while carrying that knife. The knife accidentally dropped from my possession while I was inside a public transit vehicle, and I denied it was mine. An interrogation ensued on the spot, involving both myself and all the passengers.
The soldiers eventually left the scene quietly, leaving the passengers and me alone, as if they realized at that moment that there was no evidence of hostile intent toward them. They kept the knife—which bore my fingerprints—and could have identified its owner. However, finding no indication of hostility from me or any of the passengers, they allowed us to leave peacefully and continue on our way without further incident.
Following the event in which my cousin stabbed my mother, I also developed a form of obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) during my early adolescence, rooted in a desperate need for safety and order. The impact of the trauma seeped deeply into my emotions and consciousness, manifesting as compulsive thoughts surrounding security, fear, and a pervasive sense of vulnerability. I developed acute anxiety toward anything dangerous or sharp—specifically knives—and an obsession with organizing kitchen utensils. These OCD symptoms initially took root in this context and later expanded cognitively to encompass many other aspects of my life.
Remarkably, even after overcoming deep trauma in my later years, and during periods of personal weakness and illness, I continued to get evicted from homes or leave them due to negative behaviors I committed. It feels as though reaching rock bottom triggers that same old curse, causing my subconscious mind to operate according to my original life pattern. Even as a married man with children, I have been evicted from homes three times. Despite my full awareness of what was happening, whenever I reached a state of frenzy or mental instability, I reverted to fulfilling that same fate.
Today, after a long journey of moving between houses, I have returned to the very home where I was born and where my childhood began alongside all those painful events. I have been married for ten years and have been living with my family in this home for the past five years. The very people and neighbors who were present during those past events remain beside me to this day.
My uncle and his wicked wife are still alive, living right next door. The woman who was so cruel during my early childhood now appears conscious and peaceful. As for that wretched cousin who stabbed my mother before my eyes and distorted a large part of my consciousness—driving me into a state of shock and prolonged illness for many years—once I learned how to manage the condition that had developed, I have not seen him since that day, nearly 23 years ago, and I have no desire to ever see him again.
It is evident to me that trauma inflicted on a child can render them chronically ill, leading to diagnoses of severe psychological disorders. A child who emerges from such pain into consciousness against a backdrop of a harsh childhood, relentless pressure, and severe trauma—without proper guidance—is bound to become the patient of tomorrow. It is not necessarily a matter of biological predisposition or genetic factors; had such a child experienced a stable childhood with proper guidance and counseling, they might never have become ill in the first place. Every adversity in childhood lays the foundation for a chronic psychological and mental illness, even in the complete absence of any genetic or natural factors.
In the end, none of that matters as much today as the reality that I live with a mental illness and altered brain chemistry—a result of psychiatric medications, trauma, and a lack of proper guidance to shape a child’s subconscious mind. This altered state has become an integral part of who I am, and it will remain with me until the final day of my life. Now that psychiatric medications have altered my brain chemistry, my condition will never return to “normal” without medication, nor can I transform into a different person. I will remain the person I have managed to build today with the help of medications; there is no other version of my humanity, mind, or psyche beyond the one I possess today.
I no longer crave anything from the past, nor does it hold any fascination for me. I have made peace with it, realizing that every human being is destined for their specific path and history. I do not view myself as a victim; anyone in this world can be a victim, and being one does not make me special—children everywhere are vulnerable in this difficult world. Nevertheless, I am proud of my journey in life despite the harshness of my childhood, and I am proud of myself and the awareness I hold today. My ultimate hope is to maintain a dignified life for my children and spare them the bitterness of the harsh childhood I endured. I am still here with them, and I am fully capable of doing so.
