Recovery

Chapter 2|kadiköy

After the longest car ride , I hurried into the house straight to my mother, asking if she knew anything about my father's odd mood. Just as she was to answer my question, my father stormed into the kitchen with excitement and announced, " we are moving to Istanbul!".

My first thought at the time was my grandmother. I'll be away from her, what would I do without her? I didn't know what to feel or think. Was I excited that I'm going to have a fresh start? Or was I dreading the fact that I had to start all over again?

Everyone was excited, looking forward to moving to a new home, meeting new people and my father's expanding business. But for me, moving meant having to suffer from social anxiety for at least the first four months in my new school during my battle to fit in.

The day of the flight arrived faster then I anticipated, which brings me to a question I still ask myself today. Why is it when I want something so bad , every minute I wait feels like an hour but when I'm avoiding a certain event time flies? Just a conspiracy, I know.

Before i knew it,I was in the middle of stunning Istanbul, roaming around the streets of kadiköy.
The district made me forget everything I left behind. Every morning, i would wake up  to the bubbly chatter of children, comforting Turkish music and sweet smell of cotton candy.

While my father was busy with his settlements , my mother , laila and I explored the district a little more everyday. We found out that the children's chatter didn't come from a school but an orphanage. Bakeries, Tailors and little cafés filled every corner.
The evenings were the most beautiful, we went in fancy ferries and fed birds. Watching the birds fly away and the crystal clear waters made me feel free and drained away years of stress and sorrow. The ferry took us on long tours on the Marmara sea and everyday we had a new stop. Museums, churches, mosques and fun fairs. We saw it all.

But nothing lasts forever.

Summer quickly folded away and school season rolled in. Roaming around  the streets became depressing, school bags and stationary hanging in every boutique. Just when I thought life couldn't get better.

Of course, Laila was excited. She tried a billion outfits and  hairstyles to look perfect on her first day. I on the other hand didn't really care, I knew I was fine with converse and a Polo shirt. So why bother?

I have always had two voices in my head, the first one which I never listen to that tells me, "try things differently, come out of the shell that you created for yourself". And the other that got to me every time, "just go to school and hide away from attention as much as you can ".

There was no rainbow that day.
While my sister ran through the school gate I walked in looking down at my shoes. The school was small and full of noise . Hugs and kisses everywhere while I stood awkwardly in the corner waiting for the bell to ring.
My plan was, scan the area and spot someone like you. Shy and lonely. For some reason, approaching a group of friends was a nightmare. I always felt intimidated and preferred approaching people more like me to bond over being awkward and the struggle of being society anxiety's victim.
Good job young Sarah! Your logic couldn't have gotten worse.

As I expected, I didn't approach anyone on my first day of school. Instead, I waited for the bell to end my pain.
I Walked in to class and I remember  almost feeling everyone's eyes on me.

I instantly started overthinking. Was something wrong with me? Did I have a stain on my shirt ?
No silly you! I laugh at myself now. You're the new girl, everyone is just curious.

I sat in class, smiled at everyone and waited for the teacher to start talking and save me from my own thoughts.

Mrs Rana was cheerful and friendly , and until now she is my favorite teacher. Her presence instantly made me feel absolute comfort. She introduced herself and explained the semester's plan. Next thing, was my biggest fear. "Class,come on up to the board and introduce yourself, alphabet order please".
Believe me, I was never more thankful for being named Sarah because I gained some time to repeat what I was going to  say like a hundred times and waited.

With a warm smile , she called , "Sara Shadi, your turn ''.
Wiped my sweaty hands on my jeans , cleared my throat and began.

"Hello everybody, my name is Sarah, I'm Moroccan and I just moved to Istanbul a couple of months ago".
I remember thinking nobody cared and that I must of seemed like a fool. But non of that matters now because generally speaking, 6th grade went by just fine.

Nobody bothered me and nobody cared enough to try to get in my bubble. I know I wasn't going to welcome anyone anyway, but I still secretly wanted to watch people try.

I missed my grandmother terribly, cried myself to sleep for nights and nights because I just felt so lonely and didn't feel home.

That year, I learned that sadness was within me. It wasn't where I was or who I was with. It was all from within.
And unless I did something about it, nothing was going to change. Because if my hometown was the issue, I should have been better after the move.

While I was trying to figure things out, my elder sister was having a blast. She made friends quick, had them over and was on calls for hours and hours.
She was very happy and I was just, how can I say it? Me.
Sad, tired me. Exhausted all the time.
I used to think it was because I was away from home or my grandmother but not until I met Silva.