32.

                                    

                                          
Yes! It's Amatullah's point of view.
                          
AMATULLAH'S POV
                          
When I think about the role therapy played in my life, it is not hard to know how crucial it was. It healed me and made me who I am today. I am glad that my husband was open minded enough to take me into therapy at a time when I needed it the most. He did not allow the thoughts of what society would think hold him back. What would life be like without it? I would still be stuck in the past and my denial might have given rise to another and more complicated mental illness. 
                          
I have always wanted to be with someone who would not judge me. I wanted someone who would not stop me from being who I want to be, hinder my success and growth. Yusuf, for the past few years, is an answered prayer. Yusuf was there when the world called me mad, when they told him to leave me, made fun of my mental state of mind and constantly reminded me of how I would never move forward if I am stuck in the past. This amazing hubby of mine wiped my tears, listen to my crazy thoughts, gave me a shoulder to cry on and tolerated my emotions on many days I could not handle them or get a grip of them. 
                          
His words of encouragement had boosted my confidence, his believe in me made me want to be better, and his love for me taught me how to love him more. I am glad he has never tried to change me and force me or fit me into a box he created. He has never pressured me to be anyone else for which I am grateful. He has never requested perfection from me.
                          
He has been through a lot for me. I can only imagine how he felt with me constantly talking about a non-existing pregnancy yet he listened. How did he endure the gossips that went around? He stayed when many men would have left. How do I appreciate him? How do I thank my husband? How do I explain how his unwavering support has helped me so much in life? He only wants to see the best in me, watch me grow and become a better person. No matter what I do, I can never really pay for all he had done.
                          
"Amatullah." Doctor Adebayo walked into the office. "Sorry for keeping you waiting."
                          
"No problem, doc." I ran a hand through the smooth texture of my skirt, an act done out of nervousness.
                          
"How are you?" There was a divulging facial shift that showed genuine care.
                          
"Sincerely, agitated over the result of evaluation you carried out.
                          
"There's nothing to be worried about." She took the chair opposite the green chair I have sat in through every session except I wanted to pace. Her sharp intake of air stilled my flapping lashes, hands interlocking together on my lap and air seizing in my throat as I waited for the bad news. "You have repressed memory loss." She delivered.
                          
What? Hm? Repressed what? Is that a thing? I exhaled a breath I never knew I was holding. "Repressed memory loss? What's that?" My voice was weak, unsure. How bad can it be? Is there a treatment that can work? Questions sprinted in my unsettled mind.
                          
"Repressed memory loss is also known as dissociative amnesia" The skin on my forehead creased like silk as I grew more confused. "I will explain." She gave an assuring smile as she pushed up her glasses. "This occurs when experiences are too painful or difficult to handle. They end up sheltered in the unseen corners of the oblivion in the form of repressed memory. You have experienced a certain amount of trauma which was so distressing." Her eyes pinned mine to hers, understanding and knowledge coursing through hers. "So your sympathetic nervous system became hyperactive hence overwhelming your brain. This is your way of coping with the severe trauma by disconnecting from it." 
                          
Her explanation answered just few of my questions yet it left me worrisome. "So," My tongue smeared wetness over my lower lips, my throat bone dry making me yearn for water. "It's like a defense mechanism then?"