C H A P T E R O N E
Aristotle, a famous Greek philosopher, once said, that the energy of the mind is the essence of life.
If we really, truly contemplate this concept, we come to a shell-shocking stop due to it’s relevance. Some say, that an unhealthy mind equates to an unhealthy body. The ruin of the mind, is the demise of the whole body.
And oh, how right Aristotle was.
It wasn’t until my family had escaped the civil war in Lebanon in 1987, approximately eight years ago, that I realised the power of the mind. Growing up during war was hard, but attempting to have a semblance of a life - to actually live - whilst F16’s flew over your head every few minutes, was even harder.
Trying to cope during a war, with an Autistic older brother, was catastrophic.
And attempting to flee the war with an Autistic brother, moving to a whole new country…well, that was almost impossible. Almost.
But we did it. Albeit with a few scars on the way.
When we had first arrived as immigrants in Australia, my anxiety had followed me. Mentally, I knew that once we had stepped out of the plane, I was in a much safer place. I didn’t know what to expect, none of us did, but we knew, that whatever we suffered here, would not add up to a minuscule of the pain we suffered back home.
So even though I knew that a bomb wouldn’t be exploding near me at any moment, it didn’t halt or inhibit the choking feelings accompanied by stress and fear, nor did it stop the constant worry and questioning.
The first time I stepped foot into an Australian, English-speaking school, I had almost passed out in terror. Every time I walked passed someone, I half-expected them to lash out at me. When I slept at night, the ominous, whooping sounds of the F16 still rang in my ears. The first time someone offered me a hot meal and clothes, I rejected the food, forcing myself to believe that it had somehow been poisoned and that if I ate anything from this God-forsaken country, I’d die.
Despite the long journey, the fast change and our new scary environment, we were grateful. It had taken Saleh a very long time to adjust and accept that we were leaving home for good. Even though my parents had warned and tried to prepare him before hand, moving overseas, was a load most Autistic people wouldn’t be able to handle.
And until this day, I’m extremely proud of my brother for powering through.
My younger brother, Wael…well he didn’t hesitate a nanosecond before jumping onto the aeroplane, without even a single glance back at our homeland.
And me? I harboured the most complex of feelings. I wished to be in a safer place, yet every step I took towards the aeroplane, further and further from home, my heart chipped and cracked. I wanted to howl, shout and screech at my parents to let us be, to not rip us apart from everything we’ve ever known. But then I wanted to kiss and hug them for pulling us out of harm’s way and securing us in a country where we were ensured all the basic of necessities - food, shelter, water, education, a right to life. All things we had practically been denied in Lebanon.
Back then, I had truly believed danger was still present at every corner. That anxiety and caution shaped me into the person I am today. Don’t get me wrong - I know I’m safe now. But I’m not one of those cheerful, prancing around, delusional idiots, who expect that everything will be handed to them on a platter. Nor do I believe that life is a phase of difficulties that will eventually pass.
To me - life will always be difficult. Good can only last so long.
And I had trained my mind to accept this fact.
That, is the power of the mind.
And that would be my demise.
~~~~~
I yawned quietly, covering my mouth with my right hand and swiping the hair out of my eyes with the other. I pitter-patted down the wooden stairs, careful not to make any sudden noises, so as not to wake up Saleh.
I strolled into the kitchen lazily and pulled the blinds that were hanging just above the sink apart, allowing for some well-needed sun to stream in. I proceeded to open the window, a soft yet effective breeze flowing in almost instantaneously. There was nothing more that I loved, than a cool fresh Summer’s breeze in the morning to really wake you up.
The morning was the only time during the day I enjoyed. I always awoke at least an hour before everyone else, and that hour was more precious to me than most things in my life. It was my time of solitude and relaxation, a short period where I allowed myself to feel at peace. It was the one moment where I felt like the world stopped revolving and all that was left, was eternal light, blue skies and birds.
And then, I always reminded myself, that life continues and the world begins to revolve again, no matter how much you wish it wouldn’t.
I carried my steaming cup of coffee with me into our backyard and reclined against the hanging cocoon chair, like I always did. As if on cue, Stormy mewed his way towards me and jumped up onto my lap, twirling around several times, before relaxing against my stomach. I smiled and began to pet his soft grey fur and within seconds, he was purring contentedly. On some days, I preferred his companionship over everyone else. He was a great friend.
I took a sip and revelled in the bitter-sweet taste flowing through my mouth. Life was just that, I thought. Bitter-sweet.
I gazed at the crystal blue water of our pool, my eyes travelling upwards to the sprouting palm trees that provided a good amount of shade. Rock and pebbles lined their way in a stylish fashion around the outskirt of the pool, and the bird bath my dad had step up was bustling with native birds, thirsting for water in the oncoming heat. Our house was a nice, moderate two-story brick building and we lived in a relatively nice suburb. Our neighbours, at least, were good to us.
My family…we’ve come along way. From staying in shelter to shelter, to owning our own block of land…it was an accomplishment I knew my parents were especially proud of.
I successfully finished off my cup of coffee and relaxed in the chair for another forty minutes, allowing the sun to shine and give life to my skin. I apologised to Stormy as I readied myself to get up. He stretched his long legs and then mewed angrily in response, annoyed at my sudden departure. I gave him one last squish on his bud nose, before leaving him to recline on the chair and walked back inside to the kitchen.
Since mum and dad work so diligently during the week, I had decided that on the weekends, I would cook breakfast and clean, or run any errands that need to be done. It was the least I could do and I didn’t mind the distraction.
For breakfast, I began by doing the basics, spreading some yoghurt onto a plate and drenching it in oil. I put some olives out along with other cheeses, jams and spreads as well as cutting up some strawberries and bananas for the pancakes. Just as I took out some eggs and began to heat the butter in the frypan, I heard noises upstairs, a sign my family was now awaking.
I simultaneously cooked the eggs and pancakes alongside each other and within minutes both were ready. I settled that all out on the table, making sure to put out the Lebanese bread. Lebanese bread was vital to our household. Without it, we might as well not eat.
“YUMM!” I looked up from making the tea, to find my younger brother already seated at the table, drenching his pancakes in maple syrup. Like the typical, disgusting rodent that he was, he stuffed one whole pancake into his mouth, managing to slip in some strawberries and ice-cream in their too. His mouth might as well be a black hole, it just hoovered and absorbed anything that was near it.
“You could at least wait for everyone else,” I huffed, bringing the teapot over to the table.
“Nah. Plus, it’s not my fault everyone else is too slow in the morning,” he explained, shovelling another piece down his fat gob.
“Not everyone is the road runner in the morning, Wael,” I gibed.
“Yeah,” he sighed dramatically. “Not everyone can match my physical and intellectual capabilities.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” I quipped, snorting in response. “Plus those pancakes are for Saleh.” Saleh had to eat pancakes for breakfast every morning. It was routine now and if it wasn’t present at the table, he’d get extremely flustered and upset.
Just then, both my parents walked down the stairs holding hands. Each giving me a kiss good-morning, they complemented my cooking skills as usual and sat down to eat.
“Sabah elkheir.”
We all turned to look at Saleh, well except for Wael who was still too busy with his food, and replied to his good-morning. He rubbed at his eyes tiredly and I walked over, handing him his favourite plate.
“Thanks.” I put my hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently, since any physical contact beyond that would annoy him. I smiled as his golden orbs shone through his black hair that was falling over his forehead.
“You need a haircut,” I contemplated, walking over to the table and sitting down.
“Maybe,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.
“You do,” mum agreed, dabbing her mouth with a napkin. “Maybe you should go today, since you’re not doing anything anyway.”
“I wanted to piece together my hard drive today,” he retorted unhappily, a frown etching his face.
“OK, only if you want. It’s just a suggestion,” mum said, smiling up at him encouragingly. He simply nodded his head, before proceeding to cut up his pancakes into small squares, drenching each one individually in maple syrup. Although he did this every morning, I still loved to observe him as he put his full concentration and effort into it. I smiled amusedly, having the urge to pinch his cheeks. He was older than me by four years, yet I still found him adorably cute in the things he did sometimes.
After that, the day went by incredibly fast, spent mostly with organising and readying things for school, since tomorrow was the first day back and the beginning of the second semester. Every atom and molecule in my body began to lash out in dread, already sensing the darkness that was to be thrust upon us.
Before we decided to call it a night, my brothers and I decided to watch the first Jurassic Park movie. It was our movie. We could watch it ten times, every single day of the week and not get sick of it. Even though I had seen the movie hundreds of times before, my heart began to pump faster as the tyrannosaur approached the electric cable car. When the dinosaur attacked suddenly, I shrieked and jumped, clasping onto Saleh’s arm.
He stiffened and slowly shrugged me off. “Sorry,” I said, sheepishly.
Just as the movie ended, I felt my eyes begin to droop and so I made my way to bed, muttering a good-night. I slipped under the covers and turned off the lamp on my bedside table. Remembering to put my alarm on, I picked up my phone and set it for seven-thirty in the morning. I was just about to lock it, when a message popped up.
Instant fear and anger plagued my body, and I had the overwhelming urge to throw my phone out the window. I paled and immediately felt sick to my stomach. The choking and sweating feeling accompanied by anxiety returned and I knew, that tonight I would be getting no sleep.
It was him.
*It’s been two weeks, too long. See you tomorrow.*
~~~~
A/N
How you guys liking it so far? This is, of course, just a filler and introductory chapter.
I've only ever read one book on here that featured a Lebanese character, which is sad, so I've been wanting to do this for a while.
Also dispelling a myth here - many people think anxiety is merely when people stress but it's so much more than that. It's an actual mental disorder and in many cases, has to be treated, otherwise it can lead to depression. It's a hard thing to deal with. So when considering Amira's perspective, consider that she's not just 'stressed' but it's so much more than that.
If anyone is willing to make me a cover for this, lemme know.
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