“Do you mind if I don’t answer these questions? I’m on an inner journey today..”

My father has never been able to fully accept the fact i’m in a wheelchair. My mother on the other hand has always been my support system. Three months after I became disabled she passed away. She was dealing with an alcohol addiction and unfortunately it became her death. A few weeks before she passed away, she had gone to the market to do some groceries. When she came back she was all excited because she had seen someone in a wheelchair that was full of positive energy and managed to move easily and smoothly in his wheelchair. She said: ‘Paula, one day you will be just like that. You will be able to move just as fast and energetic in your wheelchair.’ A few weeks later she died. When she passed, I was only 25 years old. It was the very first time I really felt handicapped. Life without her was so incredibly difficult. I’ve dealt with many depressions after that but the story she told me that day has helped me to never give up on life.“

“I teach religious studies in high school. My students are often surprised by my appearance. It’s my way of teaching them that not everything is what it seems.”

“I met him on Instagram. He was living in South Africa while I was here in Amsterdam. I had no idea who he was but two days later I quit my job and I was on a plane to South Africa. This was one and a half year ago. Now we are boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“We have this little ritual. At the end of the day we discuss our highs and lows of the day. Soon he will be a teenager and I want him to feel comfortable to share his struggles with me.”

“My last memories of Iran are the mountains near the Turkish border. I was on the back of a horse behind a man I had never seen before. My mother was beside me on another horse. She barely could keep her balance so she hold on to the horse very tight. The roads were small and even though I was only 3 years old I realized very well that we could fall into the ravine any moment. My dad had left a few months earlier but got stuck while crossing the Turkish border. He was kept in a prison and he had no idea how my mother and I were doing. One day he heard that a 3-year-old boy and his mom fell into the raven near the border. He panicked and screamed. He was so upset that he demanded the guards to give him a newspaper. When we arrived in Turkey I finally saw my him again. Within a few months he had changed from a strong father into a weak and skinny man with a beard. I didn’t recognize him anymore so I would hide behind my mother’s legs. Only after he started talking and making jokes in his unique was, I realized that this man was my father.”