My father whom I hate: reflections on recovery from parental abuses and childhood traumas

Their voices were peering from behind the prison bars, each cell has a special taste, it has the fingerprint of the crime, but in truth, they were all innocent. And their prison was (the crime they did not commit), but they absorbed it, so it became a restraint and prevented them from achieving their selves. They did not realize that the prison doors are open, and that they can escape, for they had become accustomed to these cells and never imagined that escape was possible, and that each of them had a spacious life outside his cell. How could they, when their loved ones made the cell?!; fathers and mothers, or uncles and aunts, or teachers, sheikhs, priests, and community figures, who made the cells in the name of love or interest. Until one day, someone dared to push the door slightly to open, and a glimpse of the light of recovery entered, then he dared more and went out to the corridor where the pain cells are, then he risked more and shouted at the prisoners that there is light outside the cages, and that life outside the prison is possible and guaranteed and not forbidden to them as they think! Then the doors slowly opened, and the prisoners came out, to meet there on the way to the way, on the journey of escape outside the soft prison! And in that corridor, they engraved their stories with recovery and wrote their healing stories on the walls, and announced how to escape for anyone whose fate once cast him into such a prison. And from those engravings, this book was born.