The Story of Fatima
On the outside, I seemed like an ordinary young woman studying philosophy at university, walking to classes, writing essays, and laughing with classmates. But inside, I was carrying a heavy secret that no one around me could see. For years, I had endured abuse from my own brother, and the weight of that trauma left me deeply broken. I was haunted by suicidal thoughts, caught in cycles of self-harm, and tormented by endless sleepless nights. Each day felt like a mask I had to wear, while my heart cried for relief. I felt trapped in darkness with no way forward, convinced that my life would always be this way.
Reaching out to Arab Woman Today (AWT) was the first step I took toward healing, though it was not easy to take. I was afraid of being misunderstood, of opening up my wounds only to find more rejection. Yet, when I finally entered counseling, I discovered a safe place where I could lay down my fears without shame. My counselor didn’t judge me, dismiss me, or minimize my pain. Instead, she welcomed me as I was and walked beside me. For the first time, I was not carrying my burdens alone. Together, we built an emergency plan for my safety and health, something I had never thought possible. Even small coping practices, like drawing butterflies on my skin instead of harming myself, or sitting quietly by the river when the weight felt unbearable, became signs of hope that healing, however small, was possible.
As I slowly opened up more, I began to uncover the deeper wounds inside me: guilt, shame, and a distorted image of myself. These were even harder to face than the memories, because they shaped the way I saw my own worth. My counselor gently helped me see the truth, that none of what happened to me defined who I am. She reminded me of God’s constant presence, a truth I had forgotten in the storm of my suffering. When I struggled to pray, she prayed with me, lifting up words I couldn’t find on my own. The Prayer of Serenity became a lifeline, teaching me to surrender what I could not control and to trust that God would give me peace, courage, and wisdom for each step.
Healing, I discovered, is not a straight line. It was messy, slow, and filled with setbacks. There were moments I felt like giving up, but each time, I was reminded that I was no longer walking this road alone. Session by session, I began to feel lighter. Drawing, crocheting, studying languages, and even simply spending quiet moments with my family gave me glimpses of joy I thought I had lost forever. These simple acts of living reminded me that life was still worth holding onto. I began to reclaim my story, learning that I could make decisions not from fear and despair, but from strength and hope.
One of the most powerful shifts came when I began to see myself through God’s eyes. I was no longer just a survivor; I was a daughter of the King. I started reading Psalm 91 every morning, letting its promises wrap around me like armor. I memorized verses that spoke of protection, healing, and restoration. Slowly, the lies I had believed for years began to lose their grip. I was not dirty, not forgotten, not broken beyond repair. I was loved, redeemed, and made whole.
There are still moments when the past whispers to me, trying to pull me back into fear. But now I have truth to stand on. I have tools, faith, and a community that reminds me of who I am and whose I am. I’ve learned to speak kindly to myself, to celebrate progress, and to rest in grace. I no longer live in hiding, I live in light. And each day, I choose life, not just for myself, but as a testimony to the God who never let go of me.
Today, I can say I am walking a new path. No harm has touched me since I began this journey, and I have chosen life again and again. I am learning that hope is not just a feeling; it is a daily choice, a discipline of trust in God’s promises. Through AWT, I discovered that my past does not determine my future. I am not defined by pain or abuse, but by the healing and strength God has placed within me. With His help, I am free to move forward, step by step, into peace, wholeness, and the life I once thought I could never have.