I wish I knew how powerful and omnipresent the fear can be. Every sound that I hear makes me fear for myself: the siren, the helicopter flying, the balloon at the birthday party, the cry of a baby… Then, there are smells, the heat, the smoke, the sunrise…

I wish I knew how sadness can physically hurt. Not only that my heart was broken, but my spirit was broken, my system of values was just about standing as everything I believed in and stood for was chewed up and spat in my face.

I wish I knew how guilt can eat me up until there is nothing else to feel – guilt for what I said and what I did; guilt for the decisions I made. Guilt that I felt for breathing and for being alive; guilt for eating my food and being with my family, for thinking about smiling. So, I stopped… I stopped smiling, I stopped seeing my friends and I kept asking myself why in the world did I survive but two fathers never returned…

I wish I knew that there is no recipe, no guidelines, no daily tips for survivors. There is only night and day and it is hard to tell which is worse. Is it the night, when I am on my own with my thoughts, emotions and memories and I cannot escape no matter how hard I try. Or is it the day when I just drag myself through it knowing that at the end of it, the night is waiting to face me again – so the day is more like a procrastination or maybe even a little break so I can take a breath or two and then when the night comes, I go back to my own, personal labyrinth of fear, guilt, despair, grieving…

I wish I knew how hard it is to make sense of my own trauma…

I wish I knew how powerful and uplifting forgiveness to myself is…

I wish I knew how to recognise the beginning in what I was convinced was the end…