After went through something that most of people say “hard”, “tough”, “terrible”, “traumatizing”, “intolerable” I can say “what doesn’t kill you, makes you vulnerable and falling into million pieces. Until you rise again and start to heal and getting stronger. As that is what you really can do. Getting “stronger” is not self evident.”.*

So I would never say it, as they say “what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger”. I can say, it doesn’t happen that simple way. It asks a lot. It takes a lot. It uses you a lot. And there will be time it even makes you more sad and helpless. But the fact is, it’s all about what do you want of yourself and from your life. Everything is possible. Even “rising and rising again until lambs become lions”, that’s my motto. It has always been and it will forever be. Even if I haven’t always risen that easily, but by time I have. And it’s just because I, as we all are, am just a human.

Something happened a while ago, then something more, more, more, more and more. So many kept asking “why do you have a black eye”, “why are you bruising all over”, “why do you walk like your ankle would be in pain”, “what has happened to your arms and wrist”, “are you okay, the sparkle of you is missing”, “why do you have to wear a neck collar”, “what has happened”, “what”, “what”, “what what what”. I didn’t hide it as life is what it is, but neither I talked about it public. I talked to my therapist. I talked to the lawyer. I talked to police. I talked to my support person from crime victim emergency. I talked to my doctors. I talked to my nurses. I talked to doctors and nurses at sexual crime center. I talked and talked and after all it felt like my head was going to explode. It all pushed me so hard to think about it all over and over and over again. And it left marks on me. Deep wounds that I have let keep healing. But there are some things humans will never heal, inner scars may scar over, but they stays there and sometimes, even years later it feels like they are bleeding again.

I never saw myself as a victim. I never reported anyone. Police and hospital instead did. I had no choices. It all sucked me in so fast. Past year was very hard, difficult and painful for me. And now, finally, I am able to write about it. Answering.

I met some people who were wrong to me. After losing my Picasso I was sad and fell into deep depression. I was fool and trusted when I should not have. I lost my strength. I was seeking a way out and felt I couldn’t find it. I was beaten up mentally and physically. I was abused. I fell even deeper and deeper into darkness while same time kept the smile on my face as a glue, as not in my childhood we were able to show our true feelings. If you cried, you better cried inside. And then when I was laying in hospital after trying suicide everybody else but hospital stuff thought that I was just fine. I took a long break from social media and everywhere. I was playing hide and seek with myself and just stayed hidden. When I got out from hospital, things kept happening, I got wounded, needed stitches here and there. I was beaten up again. It kinda became so normal that after all I didn’t even understood how abnormal it was. Though now we need to remember that in my life it has always been very similar. Only two relationships which both were abusive and violence, lots of broken bones and I have carried physical pain since that. And not forgetting, that in the similar environment I lived when I was a kid. People I lived with made it all start. In fact it’s very typical for my kind of people who are coming from abusive and violent care takers, that in future they can’t understand that it’s not normal that someone do something like this to you. And that’s why, as I said I never reported anything by myself, the doctor started to talk about Stockholm Syndrome with me.

Time passed, and when I finally was able to talk about it all for someone, it was my Mimi and some of my friends. It helped, totally different way than talking to doctors and nurses or anyone in hospital. I felt that I was finally stronger again, not just a patient, but a human who had faced such bad and sad things.

But still, it left some scars inside of me. Lots of fear. It’s enough I even see a police car passing me on road. It’s way too much if a police walks on the street and passes me. And when I get scared, they comes to talk to me and then everything fall apart. My fear to polices is so bad that I don’t know if I will ever get over it. For why? Because it was a police man who did that all to me last year. I will never forget how did I have to put my own thumb out of its place for getting rid of the handcuffs he put on me in balcony which was so freaking cold. I will never forget them bruises. I will never forget the yelling and panic attacks he caused. I will never forget his force he used against me. I will never forget them knives. Neither that I was wearing his uniform for fun. It’s even illegal in this country. And I will never forget how they took my underwear to police station to safety box as an evidence. And they are still keeping them. This process, court issue and everything last for a long.

And what then, when time has passed. Things has kept happening. Just accidents. On my Instagram you may have seen and remember the dog attacked my face the way my upper lip teared up into two pieces. I needed stitches inside and outside to put it together but my lipliner is not symmetrical anymore.

And then the epilepsy and seizures. And on the top the latest thing which why I am wearing a neck collar: I fell down, thank goodness there was a young woman who noticed me laying on the street and called emergency number. I needed reviving to get back here. I will write another post about it later, as it’s NOT obvious people care enough to help someone who is even dying. I hit my head badly, got a skull fracture and on my joints on C6 and C7.

And then yesterday I got to know some bad news what comes to my Moses. My beloved dear Moses seems to have a need for not just one but two surgeries.

And then, few days ago or so I faced and accident and my faces are mashed up. When I am looking into mirror, I am seeing a female version of Frankenstein. Can’t open my right eye, both eyes are black like panda’s. Trying to think about beauty, but I actually can’t. I do not mind about my face as I know the beauty comes from inside. But other people think opposite. Most of them. If your face is not beauty, and if as right now, my face is not as they typically are, I am not beautiful anymore. I am not pretty. But I know there is some beauty in me. If you can’t see it, that’s a shame. But no mine, but yours.

No matter what and so, you know what? I still have my faith and belief, and I believe this year will be amazing no damn matter what. Let’s stay positive. Always. I keep focus on healing and I will heal. And hopefully my Moses will heal as well. By time we both will. The way or another and by this I mean Moses’s possible surgery.

I am healing so don’t you worry about anything. I will be back there!
Make up covers it well and just yesterday I had a tattoo on my skin to stay forever. It will remind me of love, strenght, magic and passion.

I will be okay,

xx Lola