Now, this is me and my life.

Written by Sandra on August 1, 2009

Actually, I don't quite know what to expect from this blog. I just wanna write down some stuff about me, my personality and my life. I've posted some blogs before in which I let you you get a glimpse of who I am, but I never had enough courage or dedication to write a blog completely about myself. I don't know how many of you are going to read this, especially until the bitter end, or how many are even gonna put a comment underneath it. But I guess that doesn't matter since this blog not only allows you to get to know me better but also for myself, for some seriously deep soul-searching. This blog was inspired by Jessica - As I uploaded a picture of myself with the title 'me', she said she thought it was a blog .. and this showed me that she would have read it. Thanks for this huge, yet so unintended encouragement and inspiration! :)

I was born on August 15th in 1990 in a little village in the South of Germany. Growing up in an apartment consisting of three rooms, a tiny kitchen and an even tinier bathroom wasn't easy, especially because we were a family of five. One room was our dining and living room in one, another room was my parents' bedroom and the third one was our children's bedroom - for three children. My older sister, Lisa, is two years older than me and besides her I also got a twin sister, Kathrin. In the beginning we had a bunk bed of three floors, for all of us. After some time we decided to put a normal bed and a normal bunk bed (of two floors) into our room, since we grew too big to be able to fit in that tiny space. This meant we didn't have any room left to play on the ground. Now there was just enough space for my parents to walk from the door to our beds.
Sometime, when I was two years old, I started to become somewhat of a maladjusted child. Looking back I really don't know why I behaved like that, but I used to hit and swear at my parents day in day out. I literally reduced my mother to despair! My dad didn't seem to get so much affected by my behavior, since he's always been that kind of person with a rather cold heart, unable to show any positive emotions, nevertheless he was even better at showing all his negative ones. He unmistakably would let me know whenever he was cranky, disappointed or angry. He would let me know through all kind of insults, by yelling at me and blaming me for everything and even by slapping me right in the face. So, intimidated by him, I've always been more devoted to my mom. A couple of weeks ago she allowed me to read some parts of her diary from 1993 to 1995, parts in which she wrote about me, my sisters and how I gradually devastated her day by day.
I remember, when I was about four years old, I always threatened to run away from home and never come back again - Some day I decided to make it come true, so I simply went out of the door in the early morning and hid somewhere a few blocks away... I remember watching my mother yelling my name in the streets. I remember my sisters looking for me behind every corner. After some time, later that day, I started to feel really bad and so I went back home. I stealthily sneaked in. I remember seeing my mom sitting on the couch crying her heart out. And I remember my sisters, held by her, crying as well, though they were so little. Looking retrospectively at it I truly hate myself for being such a burden on my mother's shoulders. I hate myself even more for not knowing why I did this.

As I was eight years old my parents decided to move to a city that was right next to our old one. I didn't really understand what all this meant for me and my friends; so this wasn't such a big misery. In fact, later I realized how life changing this move was. We moved from a tiny, two bedroom apartment to a house with eight rooms, three floors and even a little garden. I still didn't have my own bedroom, but the room of my twin sister and me was bigger than our previous kitchen. It was bigger than our previous bathroom. Our bathroom is now twice as big as our old one, we have two separated toilets, our own basement, two balconies and finally enough room for some privacy. (You know how to appreciate privacy and freedom once you had it taken from you.)
Also, my new school was very good and I got good grades, plus I had some really great friends. However, I used to be very shy towards strangers and even towards my friends. Even though, I sill was a cruel and rebellious little girl at home. Some years went by without experiencing any big changes, without having to face any big challenges or obstacles.
Time just spun away and suddenly it was autumn in 2003, November to be exact, and I was already 13 years old. Having the typical problems of an adolescent, regarding the change of my body, the well-known troubles with the opposite sex, the fights with some good friends and whatnot, I thought life couldn't get any more complicated.
Little did I know. The day started totally normal and ordinary. I believe it was a Friday. I went to school, came back home again, did my homework and watched some TV with my sisters in the late afternoon. When my parents entered the living room, telling us to sit with them at the big dining table, I knew something wasn't right. I sat down with my dad on the left, my mom on the right and my sisters face to face with me. My mom started crying right away and we didn't know why. My mind was going crazy, picturing the most terrible assumptions. As my mom was able to speak again she told us that she didn't love our dad anymore and that they would get a divorce. I was the first one bursting out in tears. Then my twin sister. Then my older sister. And, actually, this was the first and last time that I ever saw my dad crying.
We sat together for hours and honestly, this was also the first time that I felt something like a strong company in our family. A cohesion that seemed so strong and united, but yet was crumbling and threatening to tumble down on the inside in the blink of an eye.
I remember having the topic 'divorces' at school some weeks before this happened and my teacher wanted everyone with separated parents to raise their hand. It were so many hands - "Too many," I thought. A couple of weeks later we had the same question in another class and this time I had to raise my hand as well. This was the moment when it firstly started to slowly sink in. The moment when I allowed myself to accept the pain and along with it the tears. Inevitably, I started crying in class.
Some days I was afraid to come home after school cause it seemed as if more and more personal things of my dad were disappearing. At first it was little things like some CD's but some day I came home and a whole shelf was gone. My dad soon found a one bedroom apartment and so he gradually took everything that he called his property. Visiting him for the first time was weird; seeing all 'his' stuff that used to be 'ours'. After about one year he found someone new to love, Maike, she was also divorced, with children. Today I call her my stepmother and her children are my older stepbrother, Martin, and my younger stepsister, Lena. In the beginning we used to visit our dad every second weekend, but I rarely went with my sisters. It felt as if I gave him the permission to have his own house with his new family – a permission to leave us all behind, to hurt us. Also, I didn't wanna see him because it was as if being at his house and talking to his new wife would make the divorce 'official'. I tried to deny and repress it all until the bitter end. However, after six years I still can't see him too often. It starts to hurt so unbelievably bad if I stay there for too long. I still can't take the pain and I still can't deal with our shattered relationship.
My parents' divorce brought a lot of changes along: My dad is still the same old man; cold, unable to show neither happiness nor pride, still aggressive and easy to provoke. But he has never been hitting me again ever since. Though, we fight every time we meet.
My mom had to start to work full-time, since the money was scarce for four people and a big house.
I became so much more independent. I learned things that some people don't learn until they're grown-ups. I said to myself that I had exactly two opportunities: Either to let this situation break me and start to hide.
Or to grow stronger and learn from it. I decided to choose the latter.
Also, I wasn't that rebellious girl anymore. I started to find peace in music. I wrote down what was so heavy on my mind and formed it into lyrics later on. I taught myself how to read music and how to play the piano, respectively the keyboard.
But though, I learned to always see the positive aspects of a situations before the negative ones. And nowadays I see that even the divorce had something good: My parents weren't meant to be happy on each other's side, but now they're happier than ever. And I surely wouldn't be the person that I am today, the person that you all know, if that didn't happen.

All the following happenings that happened after the divorce didn't seem so tough, cause I've already had experienced something worse. So I was able to overcome a breakup without being too much affected by it and without suffering too much. I was able to deal with the loss of some once oh so good friends that suddenly deceived me.
But then something happened, something that I didn't have any experiences with at this time. My uncle died because of a fatty degeneration of his heart. I genuinely loved my uncle. He was always willing to make me laugh and always willing to find solutions to my problems. One of the things that I miss the most is that he could never get my name right, since he wasn't able to distinguish between my twin sister and me. I miss the Christmas parties with him. I guess this year will be our fourth year without him.
After that it seemed like a true chain reaction, because many of my relatives started to become seriously ill. Most of them were able to fight and overcome their disease, but though, I lost some more family members who were close to my heart. For instance my grandma, who had cancer in both of her lungs, both kidneys, her appendix as well as her bladder. Also she had other diseases that were due to her old age.

When I was 16 years old I wanted to try going to clubs and partying and all that stuff. I've always refused to drink any alcohol, but I thought it was wrong of me to judge others for drinking without even knowing how it really is. So I went to a club with two good friends. Both were drunk after a relatively short time but I wasn't. I didn't drink much after all cause I didn't get the point of it and I didn't like it very much. Plus, my aunt suffered from serious alcoholism, which probably prevented me from drinking too much.
However, I then went on the dance floor in order to find my friends, when I got approached by a guy who was obviously several years older than me. We had a little chat but then, as he made some kind of insinuations, I told him that I didn't want a boyfriend. After that I went away to the restroom. Then I recognized that he was following me. But actually, this was already the point when it was too late to go somewhere else. He dragged me to a corner and tried to rape me. Luckily, after some minutes, a man came to help me. I don't really want to imagine how this could have turned out without his help.
So, this is pretty much the reason why I never drink alcohol and why I never go to clubs.

Growing up with all the fashion magazines and the ideal of beauty I clearly didn't stay uninfluenced by it. A lot of people here know about my problems that I have with my weight, though, just a few people of my family do. They know that I consider myself as 'too fat' but actually, no one of them knows that I made myself throw up. I did that when I was 17 years old and started it again a few months ago. Yet, I stopped it again, cause the terrible stomach aches and dizzy feelings that it brought along were too much to take sometimes. I don't think I could ever tell my family about that, since they wouldn't understand me and they would only be very disappointed and worried. I don't wanna talk too much about it now, but I just wanted to mention it since it is a comparatively big part of my life.

Something else that (recently) happened was something that taught me more than anything else how short life actually is – it taught me to appreciate life for what it is.
It was March 11^th this year, when a seventeen-year-old guy entered a school with a gun in his hands. It was in a city right next to where I live, just five minutes away from me. That guy shot 15 people and in the end himself as the 16^th person. Twelve students, all between the age of 14 to 16. Two new and young teachers. And one innocent pedestrian.
I know five people who directly witnessed the shooting because they were in the very same room. Four of my friends were lucky enough to get out of this without any injuries. The fifth friend, Chantal, died – shot in the head, just like every other victim. She turned 16 just one month before she got killed. She wanted to become a pediatrician and travel to America someday...

Though, I had times in my life that clearly weren't easy, I nevertheless think that my life was nothing but ordinary. If you look at the statistics, every second marriage is abrogated nowadays. There's almost no one on Earth who hasn't experienced the loss of a family member or dear friend. No matter if it's by a case of death or simply by losing sight of each other. There are countless girls who have eating disorders because they think they're not pretty or thin enough. And there are so many girls that already got raped.
So, I don't think I have any right to complain - and I truly don't. Life, my life, is pretty much all I got and I don't see any point in complaining about it. I'm blessed with a mom and two sisters that love me with all their hearts. I'm blessed to have a dad, a stepmother, a stepfather, a stepsister and a stepbrother. See, I got four 'siblings', two 'mommies' and two 'daddies' :b  I'm blessed to have some really great people in my life that I can call my friends, my true friends. I'm blessed enough to be able to hold my final diploma in my hands. I'm blessed enough to have a house in which I'm allowed to live. I'm blessed enough to have a room, my very own room by now, in which I can freely express myself and get some time for myself. I'm blessed enough to be healthy, without any serious diseases. And most importantly, I'm blessed enough that I never forgot how to dream!
See, I've never been a person that would complain about anything, cause there's always gonna be someone in the world who's worse off than me, or someone who's feeling just as miserable as I do at least. Moreover, all those happenings helped to build my character. I could literally watch the way I changed over the years. I transformed from a rebellious, violent, angry, yet very shy little girl to a caring, fair, loving, helpful and funny young woman. I used to be cold, now I spread light. I used to be shy, now I express myself. I used to be helpless, now I help.

I'm a girl that has the urge and the desire to make a change in this world.
I'm a girl that is eager to fight for justice for every human being.
I'm a girl that appreciates particularly the smaller things in life.
I'm a girl that would never ask for any kind of reward from anybody.
I'm a girl that has dreams, dreams that don't necessarily have to stay dreams.




If you really read through all this and you're here, at the end now - then congratulations! xD
You have probably no idea how much that means to me.