Pieces of me:
It all started when I was 14. I started loosing weight, loosing more and more until there was not much left of me. My parents got me to a doctor and they said: if you're just loosing one more pound, we're bringing you into a hospital, we can do whatever we want because we are your parents and you're just 14 years old. And at this point I realized this is going to kill me. This is something I might not survive. Something opened my eyes and told me: Hey girl you look horrible and for some reason I started eating again. I collected the pieces of what was left of me and put them back together.
The next thing I got when I was 16. I got nearly raped, my uncle showed me his porn collection and I still had to struggle with my body. I got something called a borderline personality disorder, at least this is what they called it this time. I started cutting myself, really hated myself. I met this guy who told me: "The next time you hurt yourself, I'm going to do the same you do to yourself, to me, but way deeper than you do!" I got so scared that I stopped doing it. I realized what I was actually doing to myself and to the people around me. I collected the pieces of what was left of me and put it back together.
It happened again when I was 21. My life was perfect at this point in time and I got bored of it. My depressive self crawled out of the basement, I shut it in a couple of years ago. I got the next round of scars on my body. My best friend picked me up more than once at my apartment and dropped me off at my parents house. I really was so tired of living I didn't cared about being alive any more. But something in me was whispering: "This is not going to kill you. You survived this shit twice so you're going to survive this one as well." So I went to a bunch of psychologist, ended up in a sanatorium and found myself again. I collected the pieces of what was left of me and put them back together.
When we have been 25 my best friend committed suicide. I didn't know how she was doing, because we had been so far away from each other, and every time I visited her it was the same as in our childhood. She was someone who had always been there, I always had considered her of being the stronger one of us two, of protecting me of being there for me when I loose myself. I learned swimming basically because she promised my to save me in that she will keep an eye on me. This moment I got the phone call changed my life. It started asking myself: What makes you happy, what do you want from live? Everything broke apart. I'm still unsure and afraid of making decisions, of picking the wrong way of ending up in a situation I cannot get out of anymore of making the wrong decision. So I'm still collecting the pieces of what is left of me. I'm doing this for 3 years now. Trying to find a way to stick them all back together, changing the ones that do not fit anymore, creating new ones to fit into the wholes. I still get bored and ask myself: hey why are you going through all this shit called life?
I still get depressed during fall. I still do not accept my body the way it is. I still have those hundreds of scars on my body and on my soul. But I'm still here. My body looks like a battlefield, from a war I fought against myself. But each and every battle I won. And I'm going to win whatever comes next. What I learned out of this is best put into words in a quote of Winston Churchill: "If you're going through hell, keep going!"