When I was 13 years old, a war arrived on my doorstep. Out of the blue, who would have thought it. There I was in a kind of paradise, the sun hot on my skin, playing with dolls, basking in the success of my school grades … if a little bored, as an only child. And in a moment, the world changed. Bombs that scared the life out of me, killer planes screeching in the dark of night, paratroopers landing on the roof of our home. I lost my voice, I lost my ground, I lost my ability to eat or drink or pee. Eventually I lost my dolls, my school grades, my clothes, and my home. And my parents were lost in their own trauma. I froze. And remained frozen for a very long time. It never left me, this knowing that life was uncertain. For many years, this traumatized state would have me jump out of my sking at any unexpected noise. Even a loud voice would result in a visceral freeze.
HOLD THE LINE
HOLD THE LINE
HOLD THE LINE
When I was 13 years old, a war arrived on my doorstep. Out of the blue, who would have thought it. There I was in a kind of paradise, the sun hot on my skin, playing with dolls, basking in the success of my school grades … if a little bored, as an only child. And in a moment, the world changed. Bombs that scared the life out of me, killer planes screeching in the dark of night, paratroopers landing on the roof of our home. I lost my voice, I lost my ground, I lost my ability to eat or drink or pee. Eventually I lost my dolls, my school grades, my clothes, and my home. And my parents were lost in their own trauma. I froze. And remained frozen for a very long time. It never left me, this knowing that life was uncertain. For many years, this traumatized state would have me jump out of my sking at any unexpected noise. Even a loud voice would result in a visceral freeze.