A message to a stranger.

I don’t think that I was born to fall in love, to have kids, a good job and loving family.
I suffered too much pain, misery and tragedy in my life to live a stereotypical life. I cannot waste all those tears and experience. Im here. To change lives.

All my life I have been scared to talk about me. About everything that happened, everything that is about to happen. I was scared to sound like I’m seeking for attention or pity. But then I got older, I started to meet people everyday, those people started to notice. There is something different about me. After all those years I noticed it too, I cannot hide it. When you go through major shit in your life it starts to show up, on your skin, on your eyes, the way you act or talk. I wanted to join a random conversation so many times but I never did because I was terrified that people would notice how much I know about life.

Everyone had hard times once in a lifetime, maybe more than once. For someone is a dying pet hamster the worst thing that ever happened to them, the pain is so intense that its comparable to someone who lost a loved one. It’s not the experience, it’s the pain. You can’t compare two completely different lives, the fucking pain is still there, no matter what happened. But then I realized, what If my experiences can completely change a day of a girl crying all day because her hamster is dead? What If I can show that boy that there is no such thing as a bad day?

I think that my first 5 years of my life were nice. I don’t remember them.

In the end of this story you will think that my mother is fucking evil. So I have to clarify some things in short points about her right now, because believe me, she is not.

She dreamed all her life about a perfect husband, perfect kids and being a perfect wife.

She dreamed about being this materialistic suburban mom.

She dreamed about having many friends who hate her because her life is so perfect.

And when you get older and you realize all your dreams had been wrecked, you become fucking angry and crazy.

We had to move from Germany when I was 5, my father is a musician and he lost his job as a teacher. We moved to my parents hometown, my mother had to leave her perfect suburban life. Once we moved back, they split. Everything was “kinda” okay, till my 8 birthday. They were still in the process of getting a divorce, they were fighting all the time, what brings us to point number 1:

  1. Don’t bring your kids into a fight

I remember this like it was yesterday. We lived in a 5 story building, in the highest apartment. My father standing in front of the building, looking up. My mother holding me out of the window, screaming to him that she will drop me if he wont come upstairs. I was the main actor in fights like these, my mom once woke me up in the middle of the night, brought me to kitchen, took a knife out of the cabinet and told me that we are going to “visit daddy”. My older brother chased us till morning, it was December. Had fever the next day.

My mother was struggling, with two small kids, without any job or financial support. We lived in many many shelters for single mothers. 3 people in one small room. The people there were nice though.

Age 9, had my birthday party, my father attended. They got in another fight. I was eating a chicken soup and right after that I threw it up. I was sick for three days, couldn’t even drink tap water without puking it. Doctor told my mother it was because of stress. Later that year, I got sick again, I was fainting all the time, so my mother took me to hospital.

2. Doctors are humans, they fail too

I was in the hospital for 3 months, until my doctor decided that I have anorexia. He told my parents he will sit next to me all day until I eat everything thats on my plate. This lasted 2 weeks, I threw up everything. I was dehydrated, underweight and dying. Mother took me home. A week after being home, I collapsed. Back to the hospital, this time different doctors. I was there for a whole year, just lying on bed, connected to all these tubes. They did all these medical stuff on me, from gastroscopy, to MRI, multiple x rays and much more. Finally after a year they found out that I have an autoimmune disease, which means my body hates itself. Main cause — stress. I loved hospitals, everything was so calm there, everyone was friendly. One day my parents stopped visiting me. Doctors told them to not visit so I wont be in stress. It was nice. I was doing good with my disease for 3 months, then I had to go back to the hospital. Suddenly no treatment worked for me, I had allergic reaction to literally every drug they gave me, the last chance was a biological treatment through IV. It worked for couple of months, then I got an anaphylactic shock. If i didn’t rip out that IV from my hand right away, I would die. So the only drug that worked for me ended up being corticosteroids, I was swollen, exhausted and nauseous all the time. I developed osteoporosis from those drugs. Osteoporosis hurts.

Months after, it was a rainy Wednesday, my back hurt like CRAZY. We went to see a doctor. He was sure that just one of my nerves in my back got stuck so he tried to fix it. By hand. He asked me to lay on my side and tried to unlock it. I heard a loud noise coming from my back, but I was feeling okay. Until i tried to stand up. I experienced a pain so unbearable that i passed out right away. I woke up in hospital again, with 12 broken vertebrae in my spine. 1 centimeter from my spinal cord. The next 6 months I spent in hospital in bed, the next 2 years I was learning how to walk all over again.

I was 14 now, my autoimmunity was doing fine, my spine was okay. I started to attend a school. Fuck, it was hard to socialize for me. I spent all this years alone in hospitals and now I have to talk to kids everyday? No way.

3. Mom, I’m a teenager

I had a horrible social anxiety. I was crying every morning, everyone was making fun of me because I was overweight from those corticosteroids and wearing a corset because of my spine. So I stopped attending classes. My mother had no idea for a month until my teacher called her. Then she lost it. She started kicking me so hard until I was lying on the floor, with blood pouring out of my nose and begging her to stop. Since then, she did this on daily basis. I had bruises everywhere, all the time.

Until one day, a letter came, she was supposed to go to a court because I wanted to live with my father. She was so shocked and hurt from that letter, that she lost it completely this time and tried to suffocate me with a pillow. I was trying to escape so she broke my arm. I was so fucking scared to fall asleep that night, I thought that she would stab me the minute I close my eyes. I ran away early in the morning, straight to my fathers house and together we went to the hospital because of my arm. While I was waiting for my Xray, more than 15 news reporters were standing outside the ambulance to get a interview from me: a sick kid whose arm was broken by her own mother. I did those interviews and then run away with my father and his new wife to Germany. His new wife. She was the only evil in my life.

4. The cliché step mother

We lived in a small house in a very small city. I didn’t know much about my new step mother, she was quiet all the time. Months went by and everything was fine. Then my health got worse again. Oh those hospitals in Germany! It was amazing, my room looked like a 5 star hotel and I got to choose every meal I ate! They got me there a brand new drug, injections called Humira. The only drug that works for me, even now, after 8 years. When I got back from the hospital, my father took care of me 24/7. I guess that is when my step mother got so crazy jealous. Once my father got back to work and I stayed home with my step mother she literally turned into a devil. She locked the kitchen and kept the key, so I couldn’t eat, she locked the bathroom too. Every time I walked pass her she tried to hit me. I was trying to be quiet, because I thought its just temporary, but it wasn’t. After months i told everything to my father. He got a divorce. I decided to go back to my mother since from the day I left her she wrote me letters about how she changed, how she is seeing a psychiatrist and wants to take care of me. You know… Parents lie too.

5. I wish this was just a deja vu

I started high school back home, living with my mother. I did great, found friends, started taking dance classes. But my mother wasn’t doing good. She was still angry as fuck. After a month living with her, everything was back in “normal”. Normal meaning she beat the fuck out of me every day and hated me even more then before. I kinda gave up on life at this point. I was just surviving. At 16 I was exhausted to the point I was thinking about suicide on daily basis. Look at this kitchen knife, should I stab myself with it? Look at this lace on my sneakers, should I hang myself? Look at this window, should I jump? Every night I stood in the shower and cut my hands with a razor blade. I was trying to find a courage to actually slit my wrists and it took about 3 months. Then I locked myself in the bathroom, filled up the bathtub with water and did it. I screamed, guess I wasnt ready to see blood pouring out of my hand. My mother immediately knew what is going on, broke the door, took me out of the bathtub and wrapped my wrist in a towel. Did psychiatry sessions for a year after that. It was cool, that psychiatrist became my good friend, we talked about everything but me. I wasn’t the problem.

6. Giving up, for real this time

I was 17 when my father helped me to move out from my mother. I lived on my own. I was feeling lonely though, had really bad depression all the time. It got to the point, I drank alcohol for 3 weeks straight, I couldn’t fall asleep sober. I wasnt taking my injections too. One day on my way to school I collapsed in a bus. Went straight to the hospital, woke up to my mother crying near my bed. Once she saw I was awake she told me “Doctor called me to come and see you for the last time. You are dying.” The disease was spreading to my bowels they were collapsing and I had internal bleeding. I didn’t felt like I was dying though, I didn’t felt any pain. I thought Im okay. The next day I had a operation, I thought it will be like the last ones, that I will be home next week. Hah!

Woke up to 3 doctors checking my vitals and 5 nurses putting me on tubes, assistants doing an x ray of my stomach. I was in an intensive care unit. Had so many tubes, coming out of everywhere, FUCK i hate those tubes! My parents came, they were holding each others hands (I thought that I’m still under anesthesia) and crying. I had a 6 hour operation. They took half of my bowel and saved my life. Everything went well, spent 3 weeks there, came back home on Christmas eve.

7. There is no happy end. In fact, there is no end

It has been 4 years since. Im 21 now. My mother is still the same but she stopped physically attacking me. But the verbal thing is still there. She calls me slut, unwanted child or fuck-up here and there, but its okay, I’m used to that. I guess there is end to everything bad in world. Well at least I thought that.

This year was the best fucking year of my life and its only April. I experienced things people dream about their whole life, things I didn’t even dream about because its so unreal. But that is another story. I felt that after me having such a good time, something bad will happen. There has to be a balance in life. Last week I came home in the morning, I stayed overnight at my friends house. I felt that there is something wrong, everything was so silent. Sat in the kitchen, my mother was cooking. My brother came, sat next to me and there it was… Back. Again. Hell. My mother was in a really bad mood, something messed her up and when Mom is in bad mood you better get your ass out of the kitchen. But it was too late, the two started fighting and it got bad really quick. I was just sitting there, trying to mind my own business until she came to me and asked me a simple question. It really was a simple ordinary question but she didn’t liked my answer, because it wasn’t the answer she wanted. Its like telling someone its rainy outside but they really really want the weather to be sunny and they will get crazy mad if the sun wont come out right away! So she hit me. Again. Im grown now but I started crying right away, not because it hurt me or I was trying to stop her, but because I was shocked. Disappointed. I thought that it wont happen ever again after those years. I went into my room and my brother started to defend me, yelling at her how she ruined everyones live. She yelled back. This went on for hours, until my mother locked herself in her bedroom with a hand full of drugs. She was ready to overdose herself. We called the ambulance. She survived, she is in a mental hospital now. I just came back from my doctor. Im back again in relapse.

8. The literal end

Now you know, why I’m different. I love life. I love MY life. Im aware that my life isn’t the worse, but I felt pain and its my best friend now. I got to a point in my life where bad things wont surprise me anymore. Where I can tell people to save their tears because it can get worse anytime. The point is to make everyone who reads this feel better, not to make you feel sorry for me. Don’t. Because Im not, I love every second of my life. I know now that Im fucking immortal.

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