I have become a very angry person lately. I get triggered easily, and I wonder why I have turned into this person. I think it has a lot to do with our failure as a human race.

Every day, I see constant images of wounded Palestinians on social media and TV. They are etched in my mind.

I learned at a very young age that not all people are good and trustworthy. I don’t know if it was Avee’s murder when I was in grade 3 or the murder of two boys I went to school with when I was in grade 6/7, but I learned to be wary. I learned that the people you trust the most can hurt you, and you need to protect yourself.

As I grew up, that belief became a part of who I am. A flaw in my character, with a mysterious origin, until recently.

Fast forward to the conflict in Gaza. I see images of injured, orphaned, or killed children over and over, and it makes me angry. My innocence was taken from me when I had to deal with death emotionally, and now these children will face the same. As an adult, I want to be the adult I needed as a child. I want to protect them from such evil acts. But I am still powerless. I can only post and share online what is happening. But that is not enough.

I recently went to my child’s Remembrance Day assembly at school, and the children were singing about a day when there would be no more war. I had to fight back tears knowing that while our children sing these songs innocently, children in Palestine are dying. The inaction of the western world is intolerable. Innocent children, who look up to us as adults to guide them and teach them right from wrong, are being killed. We can’t continue on this way. It’s not right. I pray that our elected officials will find a way to put an end to this.

– xoxo Sandy

Sometimes I wake up and I feel grateful.

Grateful for the simplicity of my breath.

Grateful for the sound of my childrens laughter.

Grateful that I exist.

I find it hard to believe that I suffer from anxiety and depression.

I have everything.

Life has been good to me.

And then there are days where I wake up and feel panic.

I feel as though I am suffocating.

I want to run away

But I can’t escape my thoughts.

They go everywhere with me.

I feel as though I’m on an emotional rollercoaster.

When will the ups and downs stop?

When will I feel like me again?

Stop.

I put my hands over my ears

But that doesn’t stop the words from spinning around my mind.

Cant anyone else hear my pain?

Why does their world look so different from mine?

I feel lost.

I look around me

But I feel like something is missing

I can’t find my soul

All I see is darkness.

My heart feels hollow

I’ve forgotten how to breathe.

You’re supposed to be my pillar

But you’re too weak to support me.

I may seem strong

But what is the alternative?

The fighter in me understands my worth

My strength is relentless.

I see a future so bright that even sunglasses can’t keep out the light.

And I’ll have me to thank.

I made the choice to put me first.

When I look in the rear view mirror

It will be my strength I thank.

It will be my courage to persevere that will be my pillar.

It will be me.

I look so happy in this picture, but looks can be deceiving. No one knew it at the time, but I was battling a mental battle I never imagined I would be fighting.

This morning in particular, I woke up and had a panic attack. I followed that up with a very tearful shower. I was petrified to go to this party. It was the first banquet hall party I was going to with my 4 month old son.

The music would be loud and I didn’t know how I would be able to disguise having a mental breakdown.

Sure enough, right before we joined in a wedding dance known as the ‘jago’, my son started to cry uncontrollably, and I had a mental breakdown. I was dressed to the nines and my bangles were bothering him. I couldn’t hold him in a comfortable position. I pulled off my bangles, which were too small. You see, my hands had grown while I was pregnant and I didn’t realize until the day of the event. So I forced the bangles on, and when it came time to peel them off, it hurt. But I didn’t care! I wanted to console my son.

The next morning I woke up and my hands were so swollen and bruised that I had to alternate between an ice pack and heating pad all day.

But you would never know about my mental struggle by looking at this picture.