This is not meant to be about me, but it might end up being about my life and my perspective. What other story can I tell anyway, but my own? No matter how impartial I’ll ever attempt to be, I’ll always be biased by my own personal lenses. I can only understand the world around me through my own personality. No one can ever tell a story without partly reflecting their own experiences, they are embedded in who we are and how we interpret the world around us. Thus we can never tell another story than our own. It works like projection – the only way we can understand other people is through who we are ourselves.
Heads up – this is perhaps brutally honest, and qutie personal. But it is my story, the only story I know. In the end, we might as well reveal it all. One way or another, it’ll show anyway. In the end we are all only human. Let it be.
Anyway, onto what I was really meant to write about. When I start talking about things I’ve experienced or been through, many people wonder how I am still alive. Sometimes I wonder that too. You might wonder what, what have I been through? But where does one begin? Where does one start telling one’s story, where does the story begin? Where does the ‘survivor’ story begin?
This is also not intended to be a sad or a heroic story. It’s just the only story I have lived and the only story I have to tell.
Just talking about places I’ve been, seen and lived, many fellows wonder if I’ve lived for a hundred years than the actual 27 I have inhabited this planet.
There’s a lot to add to that, just like it is to anyone’s story. There is alwasy so much we don’t know about people, there’ll always be so much we will never know. Because even though we might try to be as open and transparent as we can be, there will always be details which we choose to leave out, making sure we portray ourselves in a certain way, and then there’s the whole thing about all the forgotten or suppressed details. In other words, to an extent, we are all actors and players in a sociological matrix, all interconnected, all affected by one another, with a personality that has emerged through our experiences and social interactions.
There is no such thing such as “Who am I?” There can be no “I” without everyone around us. Think of this simple example: someone in your nearby surroundings walk around uttering the same word or statement repeatedly. Without knowing it, you’ll use the same word or saying yourself. That is how easily effected we all are by the social matrix we exist in.
Back to my story – when 14, I survived a quite bad car accident. The white Volvo drove in 55 km / h outside my elementary school the exact minute I decided to sprint across the street to catch the bus. I didn’t want to have to wait for 10 minutes. 10 minutes. Guess what? Instead I ended up on the street, in a weirdly folded position. The next thing I remembered was being in an ambulance shouting
“I don’t want to die.”
I was 14 and terrified of dying.
I was hit quite badly. I rolled up onto the front, crashed the front windshield and then landed on the street next to, or in front of the car. This I don’t remember. I blacked out. Afterwards I was sure this must be what it’s like being dead. That when we’re dead, it’s all just black and that there’s nothing there. That the brain just stops working. It’s like you’re unplugged from the world and never come back to it. Ever.
This time I was only dead temporarily though.
I remember waking up several times throughout the night but it’s all too blurry to be re-told. The first clear memory I have is waking up the next day, in the intensive care unit, hearing babies screaming loudly.
Having complained about the crying baby, the next thing I did was joking with the nurses. Don’t ask me about what, it’s been 13 years since and I was pretty pumped with drugs. I guess the nurses made the judgement I was well enough to be sent off to a another unit, since I was clear enough in my head to joke about random things. This is just something I do, no matter the situation. Of course the nurses could not know that.
When scratching the back of my head, my hand was covered in blood and glass. It must have been the back of my head that crashed that windshield. I looked at my hand and was pretty creeped out. So was my friends and family members. The nurses hadn’t even noticed all the blood and glass. My visiting friends started brushing my hair (at least attempting to), picking out glass from it, with hands partly covered in blood. I believe not many 14 year old girls do this frequently.
I also wrecked my left knee and right arm. I couldn’t walk properly for a year. I still can’t, not fully.
So that’s the first real bad thing I survived.
Then there were the empty threats from a family member. The ones you start believing will kill you. The ones that could kill you emotionally or psychologically because you actually start believing that they were real threats that would harm you physically.
Then came an overactive mind, and a great strive for overachievement, mixed with five years of anorexia, with several dips that were bad enough they could, and actually should have killed me. On top of that was one bad burnout. This all happened before I turned 21.
Why am I telling you all this?
Well, why shouldn’t I? What is there to hide? What are secrets for? Yes, information about others will shape our perception of them. But in the end, these experiences have in fact shaped me into the person I am today.
It’s not supposed to be a sad story. It is my story. The only story I know. The only life I have lived, the only life I know.
Perhaps there you have the answer to what drives me, to what I am searching for, to what gives me the courage to keep moving to one part of the globe to another. Being a survivor, you realise there is nothing you can’t do. In the end, nothing scares you.
So who or what is my little guardian angel? What has saved me all these times? Well I don’t know if there’s been anything specific through the things I’ve survived, but I do know that there now is something that is crucial for my well-being, health and happiness. And usually there is one particular factor, but this also change as life changes.
One person, one little thing, one place, one moment can change and save our lives. And likewise, crush it all.
Embrace it while it’s still there.