When life gives you lemons

Have you ever heard the phrase: "And then life happened"? People often use it to describe the totally left field, never-saw-it-coming curveballs that Life (capital L) tends to throw us at times - that leave us feeling like we just got sucker-punched and left for dead by a speeding freight train. But that's one of the peculiarities of life - it's why they say: c'est la vie. What matters then is not so much what happened - but what you make of it. Do you lock yourself up, curl up into a ball and howl the nights away? Perhaps, for a while, yes. But there comes a point when you have to move on. And who decides what 'on' is but you? That's what the folks in this story did post what they'd characterise the bleakest phases of their lives: they rewrote the way those chapters in their books ended. And it made all the difference.
'Reaching rock bottom pushed me to find myself'
Hiba Balfaqih first lost her father to cancer. That was four years ago. Then, she was "cheated out of 1.5 million dirhams" in her business. Finally, in 2017, just when she thought she was coming out of what felt like the lowest time in her life, she lost her beloved grandmother. She was devastated. "My grandmother was a huge part of my life because she raised me for most of it," recalls the Canadian expat. "She was my best friend. When she passed away so suddenly, I really couldn't handle the grief - and I'm a psychologist!".
Hiba took to kickboxing and therapy, but found herself still unable to deal with the avalanche of emotions. She got into what she calls a "bad ritual" of waking, working, then locking herself up at home because she didn't want to see people, before repeating it all over again. When, one day, she confessed to a friend that all she wanted to do was smash something against a wall, her friend suggested: why not? "I took a bunch of stuff out into my garden, and went crazy, breaking everything - and finally felt the relief I'd been unable to find elsewhere," she says. A self-confessed serial entrepreneur since the age of 16, Hiba knew immediately what she wanted her next venture to be.
Friends told her the idea was too wild to take off, but her own experience served as a strong motivator to pursue the idea. "As a psychologist, I meet a lot of people who are unable to express themselves," she says. "We limit them to having conversations - when that's not the only form of expression."
The more Hiba researched the psychology of it, the more she saw it as an alternative to the taboo that surrounds the act of breaking things and the emotion of rage. While not advocating one form of therapy over another, she does feel it would help to move past labels. "Creating a space for people to break things was about taking anger management and allowing it its own platform for expression."
And that's how The Smash Room was born. From electronics to furniture, mannequins and mini trash cans, guests are welcome to choose from a variety of implements to vent their frustrations and engage in some 'smashing therapy' - for a price, of course.
Despite her painful experiences of bereavement, Hiba says she wouldn't change the way events unfolded. It's a perspective that comes from an understanding of herself that she didn't have before - and may never have gained were it not for the particular events that shaped who she has become today.
"Sometimes, in order to appreciate the good around you, you need to feel the bad," she reflects. "I wouldn't go back and change anything because, when I reached rock bottom, it really pushed me to find myself. I had to dig deep... But if those events hadn't happened, I would have continued to live life safely, as opposed to ensuring I live each day to the fullest like I do today."
There's an undeniable shift in outlook too that follows when you build "emotional strength and perseverance", she adds. "I've started calling problems 'challenges', for instance. If you think you have problems, you're going to be looking for solutions. But challenges are more fun - like a worthy adversary that needs to be overcome."
Hiba encourages anyone going through a tough time right now to consider what can be learnt from the experience. "Sometimes, when you ask people what's wrong, they say: everything. They don't look at what was good at all... I consider what happened with my dad as an awakening, and what happened with my grandmother as a reinforcement."
She's also learnt to deal with grief - finally. "Everyone deals with grief differently, and you have to allow for that," she says. "Years ago, all I wanted was to stop grieving. But it's something you need to live through - you cannot ignore it. That's why there are people living with grief 20-30 years on... because they've been avoiding it. But you have to surrender to it before you can get past it."
'We wanted to honour the memory of our parents'
About 18 years ago, Rob and Paul Forkan were living quite an unusual life for preadolescents their age. Their parents had just decided to leave the suburbs of south London, where the boys lived and schooled at the time, for a life of travel and volunteerism. in India. The move was so spontaneous that Paul remembers his teacher didn't believe him till she saw the autographs on his shirt at the end of the week and rang up his mum to verify. "We ended up living like hippies for about four years, volunteering in orphanages and slums, and attending school for only six months in between."
But their entire lives changed on December 26, 2004, when the family decided to visit Sri Lanka - and got caught up in the deadly tsunami that struck that year instead. The brothers lost their parents that day and, together with two younger siblings, had to hitchhike to the airport, from where they headed home to England to their older sister, who adopted them.
The first year after the tragedy, the boys lived in denial, says Paul. "We kept believing they were alive, and kept ourselves really busy so that we didn't have to process what happened or think about it." But after the bodies had been recovered, there was no running from the truth anymore. Despite being dyslexic, the duo went on to college, which Paul admits he didn't "strictly enjoy after missing four years of education" - but they were determined to live each day like it was their last. "Our parents would've wanted us to do that, instead of sitting around and beating ourselves up," he believes.
In 2012, they decided to start a flip-flop company called Gandys. Why? "We were young and stupid," he laughs, self-deprecatingly. "We only get two weeks of sun in the UK, so everyone did laugh at us and tell us we were bonkers. But the reason we thought of flip-flops was because we loved travelling - and used to live in flip-flops when we did. We didn't want a fancy product - just something everyone could afford."
Incredibly, what started as a passion project out of their bedroom has today expanded into an entire lifestyle range of products inspired by travel - and endorsed by A-listers from Richard Branson and Jamie Oliver to Jessica Alba and Jessie J. The brand has even managed to snag collaborations with the Rolling Stones and McLaren Formula One.
Throughout their meteoric rise, they have been careful to donate 10 per cent of proceeds to their Orphans for Orphans initiative, which seeks to provide education, medication and nutrition for underprivileged orphans. In 2014, wanting to honour the memory of their parents, they went back to Sri Lanka to build their first children's home. "The first couple of days after we got there were horrible," says Paul. "We didn't want to leave the hotel. But then we went out to see the projects we'd been helping with and started rebuilding our relationship with the country. We even had loads of Sri Lankan locals commenting on our Facebook posts, inviting us to stay at their homes and offering to take care of us. We go there every September now." The duo opened another children's home in Malawi in 2016, and are working on two more in Brazil and Nepal.
"Keeping busy is one way to cope with a tragedy like this," reflects Paul. "There'll always be pain - but the best way to live is to be looking forward. Don't dwell on the past." In a sense, he feels they could handle anything life throws their way now - although he's quick to add that's not a challenge to the universe! "We took a really big hit at a young age and that toughened us up. Now, whenever we're faced with challenges, we take it in our stride and look for ways to fix them."
The brothers' driving motto is: don't just exist. "I absolutely believe that everyone should try and turn the negatives in their lives into positives," offers Paul. "It doesn't have to be straightaway. Not everyone can be expected to get straight back on their bikes - but whenever you do get back on your feet, I'd highly recommend it."
'Without those girlfriends, I would've killed myself'
Although it happened a decade ago, British expat Andrea Jane Allen remembers the day she had a complete breakdown at a local supermarket like it was yesterday. All the cashier had done was ask how she was, but Andrea - who'd just had her second child six months prior and was suffering severely (albeit unknowingly) from post-natal depression (PND) - just burst into tears. "I think I scared the poor woman half to death, bless her - but she was the only person to ask me that in such a long time," explains the longtime Dubai resident.
Her story goes back to the "very traumatic" birth of her daughter. The feeling that things weren't "quite right" began two days after the baby was born, but Andrea put it down to the stress of being stuck in the hospital while she had a toddler at home - not to mention, a newborn in NICU. Even after they were allowed to go home, things didn't get better. "I was terrified about letting her out of my sight, because I was so sure she was going to die if I did." It got to a point where she couldn't function anymore - and that's when the public meltdown occurred.
A family medicine doctor offered her some anti-anxiety medication and sent her on her way, with no further advice. So, Andrea turned to the Internet. It was there that she found other mums suffering from PND and began to meet up with them regularly for coffee. "Those meet-ups were invaluable because we found the support we would've had if our families were here," says the single mum.
In 2013, after Andrea found her bearings, she decided to start a Facebook group called Out of the Blues for sufferers of PND. "Joining a peer support group is one of the top three recommendations for those suffering from post-natal depression and, back then, there were none." Today, they have grown exponentially, with about 3,000 members at last count - and they offer support for women everywhere, including those who've gone back to their home countries. "Post-natal depression is not elitist," she notes. "It can choose who it attacks, so we support anyone who needs help." Run entirely by volunteers who are either former healthcare providers or survivors of PND, the support runs the gamut from one-on-one meet-ups to keeping the mums company at home, if need be.
There are several symptoms that characterise the illness, but for Andrea, the worst of it were the thoughts of suicide. "The feeling of not being good enough for your children and that they'd be better off without you... of driving down Sheikh Zayed Road and wondering how hard I'd have to hit a structure to kill me but keep the kids safe..."
Now in her forties, Andrea truly believes that she wouldn't be the mum she is to her kids today without the support she received at the time. "Without those girlfriends, I'd have killed myself," she says, bluntly. "The suicide rates of women suffering PND are just too high, so being able to offer other women the support they need is invaluable to me."
Addressing the still prevailing cultural stigmas surrounding depression, she admits they're up against "several old cultures that believe mental health illness should be shunned" but points out we're "only going to lose more mums" if we do so. "Children deserve to have their mums, so it's incredibly important that sufferers reach out. Hiding under the duvet won't make it go away," she adds. "I tried."
She too endorses rewriting how the chapters in one's life story end by creating something positive out of a difficult situation. "I had to do something with my experience of massive birth trauma, or it was just going to keep haunting me. Starting the group gave me ability to take something really awful and make something positive come of it. If you're in right place, I can't advocate it enough."
karen@khaleejtimes.com

GIVING BACK: Paul (left) and Rob Forkan in front of their London store