I watched the first train come into Frankfurt, tears streaming down my cheeks. I have been able to do nothing at all for years. I used to write, translate, send out appeals, petition governments, I used to DO something for these people, for nearly a decade. I did not have to just sit and watch in an agony of waiting as I have been doing. Something is finally happening now, not enough, not soon enough, but it is happening.
I wish every refugee, everywhere, was met with such open arms. I wish all of us experienced such kindness, just once, to maintain our faith in the goodness of humanity. I have experienced it, as a domestic violence refugee in my own country. I love my country and the people in it. What he told me was all wrong. The American people are lovely, kind souls. No one has harmed me, since him. No one has even overcharged me.
I want always to be capable of kindness, myself.
He took away my work and my connections and my freedom, but he cannot freeze my heart. I want to be the best human I can be. I don’t want to be less than humane.
The worst part of PTSD is the irritability, the impatience. That is not me. That is my PTSD. I am so ashamed of it. I was always known for my supernatural patience, before him. I fear he beat it out of me. More than anything I want it back.
I want to help someone again. I want to make a difference. The small things I do are not enough to feed my soul.