When I turned 19, my family decided to return to Australia. My father set up an arranged marriage for me, but we ended up canceling, due to a death in the family. I managed to escape because, in their culture, it’s disrespectful to celebrate a wedding when there’s been a death in the family.

Even though we were living in Australia, I still lived under my parents’ rules and they controlled everything I did. I was only allowed to go from the house to work and from work, back home. Sometimes, I was allowed to go out for two or three hours at most but had to be back in the house before sundown. My six brothers were always watching me and when they weren’t, they’d ask their friends to watch me.

My father’s plan was to send me back to Syria to marry a Muslim. He constantly drilled me about being too old to get married and even though deep down I knew that wasn’t true, I started believing him. But, that’s not what I wanted for myself. How would I manage to live like that and raise children with customs I didn’t believe in?

It was around that time, that I began suffering with spiritual problems. One night, I felt something on me – it wasn’t human; it was something supernatural. It overpowered me. I was paralyzed with fear; I couldn’t move or scream. In my mind, I cried out to my god for help, but nothing happened. It went away after some time, but I was terrified. The next day, I told my father what had happened, but he managed to convince me that it was just a nightmare.

I really wanted to believe that it was only a nightmare, but that night was just the beginning. At night, I would hear voices in my room and the attacks began happening on a regular basis. I would often wake up trembling, overpowered by that force over me.
My father decided to go to our Muslim leader and have him cast a spell. He gave me a talisman to put under my pillow and warned me not to read what was written on it because if I did, I’d be cursed and could even end up dying. I followed his instructions because I was desperate, but it didn’t work. My mother said for me to be patient and keep trying. I did what she said, but the attacks kept getting worse.

One day, I decided to give the talisman back to my mother. She said that if I didn’t want to believe, I would be on my own. I had never felt so alone in my life. My mind was tormented and nobody understood me. Things kept getting worse; I couldn’t fall asleep and didn’t want to because I was afraid of being attacked by the spirits. I began suffering with depression and severe chest pains. The suicidal thoughts came back as a solution to escape the pain. I was suffering so much and couldn’t find peace. My world was collapsing. My smile was a mere front to hide the sadness I had inside.

That’s when I decided to run away. I was tired of dealing with all the problems: family, work, religion and culture. I called a friend and told her I was leaving. I knew that I’d be risking my life by bringing dishonor to my family and to the whole community, but living there was no longer an option. I thought: if I die, at least I’ll die trying. I went to the police and warned them that I wasn’t missing, but had left voluntarily. I went home, packed all of my belongings in 10 minutes and ran as far away from Sydney as possible. I hid from my family.

I started seeing a psychiatrist to treat my depression but I wouldn’t dare tell her about my spiritual problems because I feared she’d commit me into a psychiatric hospital. She explained how there is no cure for depression and prescribed these pills that didn’t let me sleep. Now, in addition to the depression pills, I also had to take sleeping pills.

The treatments weren’t working, so I sought help in psychics, spiritual healers and tarot card readers. There were times when things seemed to improve but then everything went back to being the same. I had terrible nightmares. All these dreadful experiences led me to question if God truly existed and why were all these things happening to me?

It didn’t take too long for my family to find me. My father disowned me and said that he’d rather pretend I was dead. But I already expected that from him. I brought shame to my family and upon our community. Everyone bad-mouthed me.