By the Author / Source: abuaram.site
Yesterday, my tears flowed for the first time since I started taking antidepressants and other medications nearly two and a half months ago. I realized that medicine doesn’t stop you from crying when your heart is deeply wounded by someone you love; rather, it keeps you from crying over trivial matters or slipping into weeping spells without a painful emotional trigger.
I cried for my eldest son, Aram, who is not even six years old yet. He angered me immensely—he stopped obeying my instructions, and his personality has developed a stubborn, erratic edge. Out of frustration, I hit him and terrified him a few days ago. Ever since that day, I have been consumed by grief and self-blame, wondering how I could hit this piece of my heart—this angelic gift from heaven.
I also fought with his mother and threw her out, sending her back to her family’s home. Despite this, Aram refuses to go with her. He insists on staying at home with me, going to pray at the mosque, and spending Eid together. He even asks to buy his Eid clothes with me. Although I am an atheist, I cannot bring myself to stop him from embracing Islam; he learns the Quran, prayer, and religion at his kindergarten, and his friends pray as well.
As for his mother, I feel no remorse for hitting her. I beat her severely because of her poor behavior toward me and her personality, which I find unbearable. She is constantly nagging, incapable of understanding the concept of a constructive dialogue, and provokes me to the absolute limit of my anger. When I feel that all avenues of communication are blocked, I hit her in the hope that she might straighten up and understand—if only she would! That is why I kicked her out; I no longer want her living in the house with me. I just want to rest and be alone. She feels like Socrates’ wife: relentlessly nagging and sharp-tongued.
I feel that my entire family and I are in desperate need of emotional catharsis and therapy. Yet, I resist it, believing I am intelligent enough to navigate this phase on my own and guide my children correctly. I am fully determined never to resort to hitting them again.
I have no desire to have anyone around me right now; I just need some time to myself. I am completely exhausted by the current situation and by my nagging, sharp-tongued wife. I hope she stays at her mother’s house. I have no intention of stopping my medication, as I cannot recover without it. I also find myself wanting to drink more alcohol to enjoy my time. Damn my homeland—it has been suffering under a state of war for nearly three years, and the Israelis prevent me from exercising my freedom or entering my own land. I miss going to the beach and walking through the streets and neighborhoods; I have been deprived of that for almost three years.
