THE STORY OF MY LITTLE BOX

Hello my loves! I hope each and every one of you had a fantastic start into the new year. Obviously you’ve noticed that I was barely posting anything here throughout the last year. For that I am more than sorry. I missed you guys, as well as writing and shooting so much. Of course I will better myself, so please bear with me. I wanted the first post in 2018 to be something really special. So I decided to make this one a very personal post. For you, for me, for us.

2017 was a year full of ups and downs and I’m absolutely glad it is finally over. I have to say that it turned out to be one of the hardest years of my life so far, though I had some incredible experiences throughout the year, like my internship at adidas and the wonderful people I met there. Yet majority of my 2017 was not as kind: my relationship ended (which looking back now was one of the best things that could have ever happened), close friendships unfortunately ended, constant family drama in my life. To top it all off, at the end of the year my right arm started playing games with me, which left me with having to put in sick-leave for this semester and not being able to work for weeks now.

Basically shit after shit after shit happened. Of course I handled it like I’ve done all my life, in a healthy way like any other person would – not. And that came to bite me back in the ass big fat time.

I’ve never been the most emotional person, mainly because I never really learned how to deal with them in a healthy way. Growing up there was no room for something as negligible as having emotions, dealing or talking about feelings. It was simple: listen and function. Don’t ask questions or think for yourself, just function. So I always did. As I was keeping every kind of feeling inside, I had to come up with some type of system. I had to find a way for me to not get ‘distracted’ about the horrible things that I’d experienced, because in my mind the only thing that mattered was me functioning.

So I created something I called my ‘little box’ when I was 10.  Every single trauma I experienced, every hurtful word directed to me (some by the people I love most), everything I could not wrap my head around because it was too painful to deal with, everything was put away in that little black box so that I could be that happy, bubbly, utterly sarcastic person on the outside that everyone knew and loved.

As you are reading this imagine a little box with the most gorgeous, most beautiful packaging design. Then opening up and looking into that beautiful box seeing nothing but a black hole. You stare blankly into that darkness, scared but fascinated. It seems to move in slow motions,almost hypnotizing you. For a moment it seems like luring you into its grip. Before it can get too dangerous for you, you quickly close that box.

The thing is that no one ever tells you how hard it is to keep that box closed and in safe distance from you. How utterly exhausting it feels to keep that dark box hidden away and to only show ‘the happy you’, because that’s all people want to see anyways, right? That is all people can handle, isn’t it? Because how can it be that people will ask you to share your feelings, your heart, your soul with them, but when you do, suddenly you’re too angry or too sad all the time.

“You know maybe you’re obsessing a bit your diagnosis a bit and feeling too sorry for yourself.” “You know other people/ I go through stuff too, it’s not that serious.” “Yeah I get super sad too with stuff, sometimes the traffic jam piss me off so much.” “Get yourself together. It’s not that bad.” they say, so you do.

They do not realize how much damage those few words they spit out cause. They do not realize how much strength it takes to open that box and let some of that darkness out. How incredibly frightening it is and how vulnerable it makes you to share even the slightest of these things. These feeling you’ve kept away, safely hidden, for years. How disappointed you are and insecure you suddenly become again. But nothing compares to how stupid you feel to have even believed for a second that you could trust them. That you’d finally be understood. How naïve to let yourself believe, when your whole life you’ve been repeatedly shown otherwise.

So you dig up the box, dust it and continue to keep it safely hidden. Sometimes little rips show up on it, but you always handle it and continue to function. But with time it appears to get harder and harder to keep your pretty box together and closed. One day you reach that point of pure exhaustion and for the first time you cannot close it anymore. You try to be stronger, but it just won’t fricking close. More and more rips appear and suddenly your biggest fear comes crashing down on you. The final crack rips that beautiful, precious box open you have cared for your whole life. In that moment you’re left with nothing but painful suffocating darkness surrounding you.

Its more than tempting to let that darkness swallow you, to let it devour every fibre of you. For as painful as it is, that darkness has a treacherous comfort to it. It is that one place where you can finally do what you never could – fall apart. For the first time, you have to admit to something that goes against you’re whole being – admit that you are fragile and that you can’t do everything alone. And, my love, that it is completely okay.

Deciding not to give in, not to let go of yourself is fucking hard, there’s just no sugar coating it. But slowly with baby steps, you somehow manage to.

I had given up new year’s resolutions for years now (I mean, come on we all know the game). For 2018 though I have decided on one. I will absolutely just do me and be unapologetically happy. And I would love you guys to join me in that quest!

PS: Don’t ask how the hell I’m gonna get there. I’m still brainstorming but feel free to leavesome tips and tricks behind.