No one wishes to live behind bars. No matter how long you spend here, being away from the world still hurts. Mornings are full of sadness and sorrow. At home, morning routines depend on your mood; here, every minute of the day and my tasks are already planned for me. There is a fixed time for waking up, refreshing, and having breakfast.
Having all meals of the day hurts more, not knowing if my family had even a single meal, especially my son.
Checking on their well-being once a month is always emotional. Hearing their voices and sensing the sadness in their tone, I immediately break down. Thinking that my son will grow up without a mother next to him, the way I did, is painful. Losing a parent is a hard experience that an innocent child should never endure. Now that I’m here for only God knows how long, I feel I have failed him as a parent. I will never be able to turn back time; no amount of money is worth the time passed.
Every morning, I remember I’m thousands of miles away from home. They cannot visit me as they and I wish. The only help is from NGOs. I get visitors, but sometimes it can take up to three months without any visit. Everything they manage to bring for me, I need to ration so it can sustain me much longer.
Language barriers make it very hard to communicate and handle daily duties. Sometimes I have to observe how others perform tasks to understand instructions as closely as possible. Even books in English that could help me are limited. Decisions about when and how long I can see light are not up to me.
A sad lesson among us is the lack of sharing; selfishness and self-centeredness prevail. It’s not easy living with many different people who have their own issues and get easily offended by small things. We are full of blame and losing ourselves each day, filled with regrets and thousands of questions flooding our minds, preventing us from thinking clearly.
Looking back at where I came from hinders my healing process.
I have fought many battles and overcome numerous challenges, but this pain is deeper than it appears. Old wounds that had healed are being reopened.
Now I have an opportunity for further education, something I have been longing for. However, not having Internet access is making things difficult. Most of the modules require online research, which I can’t do. The only way to manage is through common sense and self-knowledge.
I feel isolated, taken out of my comfort zone, and thrown into a deep, dark pit where my voice can’t be heard. My freedom feels truly taken away. I’m also missing out on staying updated with what’s happening around the world. Sometimes, solutions and healing come from interacting with people on social media, especially those in similar situations. Just sharing how you feel can be beneficial. Counseling isn’t always about talking to a psychologist; sometimes, just having someone listen can be healing.
Being in detention feels like my life has been stolen from me.
I might be here for now, being remote-controlled, but I know and believe my mind and heart can never be taken away from me. The hunger I have for a better tomorrow is always with me. My dreams still remain. It’s only a matter of time until the better, new me gets back on her feet and claims what she’s meant to be.
Life is a race with different paces and destinies. Change starts with admitting and taking a step towards it. There is always light after darkness. Inviting God into every plan I have makes everything possible in my life. Seeking His Kingdom first is the first step to healing. Praying, asking for forgiveness, forgiving those who wronged us, and asking Him for guidance, protection, and favor to shine upon my life until He comes back to Earth. Amen.
Note: This letter has been edited to correct spelling and grammar.
