Dear Readers,

When I penned my first post about the true colors of Emirates, I made a promise to you all. I promised to share my personal experiences, the serious health consequences I faced as a result of working for this airline. I've touched on some of these issues in previous articles, mentioning the problems I started having with my heart and nervous system. But today, I am ready to share the most serious and the most hurtful part of my journey. 

The toxic atmosphere, the inhumane treatment, the daily humiliation, bullying, and harassment I endured while working for Emirates took a heavy toll on my health, both physically and mentally. I began suffering from overwhelming anxiety, panic attacks, arrhythmia, loss of focus, crying every day, zero joy of life, depressive mood and unbearable insomnia that drained me of all my energy. I would wake up crying and screaming every night, my digestive system in turmoil as stress made me sick to my stomach. The fear of what the next day would bring, of what new humiliation or mistreatment I would have to endure, was a constant, terrifying presence in my life.

The spiral of negativity and stress tightened its grip on me with each passing day. Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, I experienced a brutal, animal-like physical abuse from one of the "higher rank" male employees of Emirates. The company, in its infinite wisdom (obviously), chose to sweep the incident under the rug, ignoring it and acting as if nothing had happened. That day changed me, and my life, forever as I couldn't and still can't remove it from my memory (and probably, despite healing and being happy now, it will always stay somewhere in my mind).

From that day forward, I lived in a state of constant fear and danger alert mode. I experienced many unexpected paralysis episodes, chest pains that felt like an electric shock, and memory problems. I would be in the middle of a task and suddenly freeze, forgetting what I was doing or saying. I couldn't keep food down, I cried day and night, I was shaking and scared to leave my bedroom, let alone go to work but still, I had to. I felt alone, knowing that I couldn't count on anyone's help and that justice would never catch up to the man who had hurt me.

Panic attacks became a daily occurrence. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, and my heart would race one moment and feel like it painfully was stopping the next. Headaches and tears were my constant companions. I felt hopeless, helpless, and guilty, as if it was all my fault. The company made me feel like I was the one who had triggered the abusive behavior of this man. I would wake up screaming "NO!!!" every night, lost in a tantrum of fear and despair.

I was a wreck, my hands shaking so much that I couldn't hold a glass of water without spilling it. I would listen to people speak but couldn't remember anything they said. I felt like I had no future, like nothing good would ever happen to me again. I felt destroyed, dead inside. I couldn't trust anyone, I felt like I was losing my mind, like I was not myself anymore and what's more I started losing consciousness, experiencing hyperventilation, extremely high blood pressure, suddenly coming and going sight problems, chest pain attacks and after one particularly long blackout, I ended up in the hospital in the cardiological intensive care unit attached to many machines controlling every signal coming from my body. The diagnosis after many tests? Advanced heart neurosis.

But that's not all, my dear readers. The story takes a darker turn. Some time later, when I had already left the confines of Emirates, when I had already found solace in another country, when I had already begun to rebuild my life with a new job, I was still plagued by an intense problem. Insomnia, mood swings, uncontrolled bouts of crying at night, nightmares that left me drenched in cold sweat, and an unexplainable fear that clung to me like a second skin. I thought it was merely a case of struggling to adapt to a new timezone, an extended bout of jetlag that refused to let go. So, I sought medical help, hoping for a prescription that would help me sleep.

But the doctor, after listening to my symptoms, refused to prescribe any medication. Instead, she asked me a question that sent chills down my spine, "What happened in your life?" She immediately referred me to a therapist in the same clinic. Very quickly, the therapist gave me a diagnosis that left me reeling. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, or PTSD as it is commonly known.

  And no, it's not a condition that only affects soldiers who have survived the horrors of war. It can affect anyone who has experienced a traumatic event, such as physical abuse, like I did.

If it hadn't been for my husband, who stood by me like a rock, who helped me navigate the stormy seas of my trauma, who supported me through the darkest days, I wouldn't have been able to reclaim my life. His unwavering love and care were my lifelines. I also owe a debt of gratitude to my current employer, who showed me that I was deserving of the best, who together with the doctor and my husband made me understand that I'm still me, that I'm not bad, not crazy, just hurt by the monster, and heal in part, from my traumatic past.

So, here's a heartfelt thank you to Emirates for almost completely destroying my health, for pushing me to the brink, for making me feel worthless and devoid of purpose, for almost extinguishing the spark of the cheerful girl I once was, coming to work for you and thinking you were my dream.

I have only two words for you, Emirates: FUCK YOU. I hope karma serves you the justice you so richly deserve.