Dear Roy,
I hope you’re well,
I don't really know why I'm writing to you. You often cross
my mind, perhaps it's because I miss my little house on Dugdale Road, and the
fact that it was a home for me and Jori. And you were my neighbour, and that means
something, especially in the situation I am in now.
Things have gone from bad to worse for me. After my
deportation from the UK, I went to Dubai with a hope of finding a job and
settling there, but unfortunately things didn't go as planned. I struggled,
each time I applied for a position I was rejected. I later found out that there
were security reasons; I had (in the past) voiced some controversial political
views when I was living in Kuwait. I’m not sure whether employers kept digging
it up from the internet, or whether the existence of a mutual security agreement
between the Gulf Countries had placed my name on some sort of ban. No one would
give me any clear explanation.
When I was at a dead end in Dubai, I decided the only way,
was to go back to Kuwait and beg for my old job back (I was a law lecturer at
Kuwait university). I came back to Kuwait and started the process of trying to
get my job back, they've been promising me my old position since last December,
but without avail. Now, I am in Kuwait applying for every job I can find, but getting nowhere. I have a PhD in law from Warwick, one of UK's best
universities and I'm rejected everywhere I go. I feel heart broken, trapped,
worthless.
My relationship with my family has always been
strained. I do my best to find common ground with them, to understand them. I want
to belong to them, to feel loved and accepted. Things work out for a short
period of time, then they break again. They shame me constantly, telling me
that I have mental health issues and that I need to see a professional, that
I'm negatively affecting Jori, they hurt me, patronize me, alienate me and drive
me away. Just this morning my father told me that if I don't see a psychologist
he will make sure I'm taken there by force, he threatened me with the police.
It pained me, it totally destroyed me. I never denied my depression, I have my bad
and good days, but I've been the best mother I can be for Jori. Forcing me to
get psychological help is painful, especially when I'm going through so much
already.
I've been trying to sell my house on Dugdale Road
because I can't afford to pay the mortgage anymore. But there are complications
there too (my ex-husband's name is on the contract and he's not communicating
with me or the solicitors). The house has been on the market for months.
I don't know why all this is happening to me. I was
always ambitious, hardworking and enthusiastic. I have talents, I
have potential and yet I seem to have such bad luck wherever I go, despite what
I do.
I'm so sorry I'm sending you this very long sad e-mail,
but I'm very lonely and lost. I know you don't have any solution for my
problems.
Love
Fatima
