Not Sugarcoating: care

I wasn't planning on writing such a thing in English as I thought most of my audience understands Bosnian. However, I recently saw that I have so many of my international friends eager to know what actually happened and what's the secret behind my short hair. Is it just my preferred style, or is it something else? Enjoy...

A beautiful spring day. You could know by the sound of birds chirping in the early morning that it would not be a dull day. Each day was getting warmer during the middle of the month, May.

As summer was right around the corner, every day passed with me being anxious about my body figure and wanting to achieve the perfect look: just for summer. I woke up with the intent to go to a lookout, already prepared with a whole efficient plan, me and my friend agreeing to go together. As a matter of a fact, we actually were training at the same fitness coach for one or two weeks now, so going together to a lookout was a super good idea for us both to have a nice day and burn some calories. Everyone we talked to up to that point told us that we should go with our bicycles, rather than walking all the way up the hill. It was a far trip from our neighborhood to the lookout, but the view proved us how easy it was to forget all of the sweat drained by these 3 hours of dragging our bicycles next to us and well, walking up the hill. Fortunately, just after a minute passed of us admiring the lookout view, our very close friends came to the hill. They were with their parents, coming there as a weekend getaway and a fun way to spend time with your family, as any other family should. They walked up to the hill, they had no bicycles, just bare feet. The father of our friends commented on us bringing our bicycles, saying how it was a good idea and how we made a great decision. The rest of the time on the lookout was spent with us talking, joking and laughing at each other, even writing in a little notebook we found on the lookout, which the Hiking community left there just so everybody could write their opinion or even fun stories from the lookout. My friends and I wrote a funny story of our experience, wanting to make people laugh if they ever read it. Once enough time has passed and once my mother had already called me 4 times, we decided that it was time for us to head home. It was a very dangerous road. Curve after curve, bump after bump, going through a forest that had snakes which greeted me whilst I was passing, as well as an undeniably big amount of rocks on the ground. My friend and I were both very hungry so we agreed to rush home, without making many stops. I called my mom, letting her know we were heading home safely, both of us safe and sound. I left my phone in my friend's backpack, it being more secure and having more space. We started going down the hill, having straight roads as well, making stops every five minutes in the beginning, but making the last stop only fifteen minutes before we should've already been home. At that stop, we agreed to not make any more as both of our stomachs were angrily growling at us, both of us being undeniably hungry. I didn't have a proper breakfast and the only thing I really snacked on was a granola bar with some coffee to pair it with. A stupid decision, but we all make those. You could say the thing riding me back home wasn't my actual bicycle, but my hungriness. I didn't drive fast and I always held my break, in case I might start going too fast. BANG!

My eyes are taking a while to open. My eyelids are heavier than before and it's taking a while for me to realize where I'm situated. The lights are dim and there are so many unfamiliar people around me. My first thought was that I am in Bosanska Krupa, my home town. It looked like my town's hospital, very dull and dim, hence me thinking I got a little sick and needed to get checked up at the doctor's. I asked the nurses in the room if I could go home. I had left my house on Sunday without studying or revising Biology and Chemistry, so I had panicked, knowing I had much homework waiting for me back home. Little did I know it was two days after. To be exact, I was in a coma for two days. They put me in a coma so my body could get some rest. Once they told me that I smashed my skull and that I don't have a big bone in my head, I didn't believe them. I asked them to call my mom, me as a 13-year-old child not being able to process anything that was happening in the given moment. I was still under the influence of my anesthesia. I wasn't aware that so much time had already passed and that something so severe and dangerous had happened to me. My mother explained to me that what happened wasn't just a scratch. She told me I had fallen off my bicycle, smashed both sides of my skull and hurt myself really bad. Luckily, my hero, my neurosurgeon, saved me. If only a minute more had passed, I wouldn't be here writing this story for all of you to read. I was in the hospital for ten more days. I thought that once I got home, my life would get back in order. Little did I know I would be on a very strict regime. For 2 months straight I couldn't lay a hand on phone, laptop or television, I couldn't read, draw or color a simple kids coloring book. I couldn't go to school or hang out with my friends the whole summer due to me not being able to expose myself to the sun. It was hard, but look where I am now. I am the strongest girl I know. Even after I got the information of me not being able to do sports and crying over it, I settled my mind and agreed with it. After all, this experience has only made me the strong, independent girl I am now. I wouldn't be here publishing my work if it were the end of me. If it weren't for my tire that got drained, my break that stopped functioning, I wouldn't be writing this. I wouldn't be able to let you learn from my mistakes. So, learn from what I did wrong. Wear a helmet and don't go on a trip to a road u had never explored before. Take care of yourself.

I might have been lucky. Some other person might not be as lucky as I was. I don't want you to look into death's eyes like I did.

Life is like a bicycle ride. You have to keep riding to maintain your balance.

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Dear Kitty,

I don’t feel well tonight. It’s not the first time I’ve felt like this and frankly, it won’t be the last. I’m not good. There’s no point in trying to cover it up. I’m human, a human volcano. I don’t know when I’m going to explode. I find that it is scarier than the actual volcano. Because the pain is inside. The lava that bursts from the natural volcano kills you in the snap of a finger. The lava that is built up inside me slowly kills me. But I don’t let it. I cry. Funny how tears look like water but burn like fire. And like each fire does, it doesn’t give you space to breathe. It takes the oxygen away from you. Yes, the lava comes out, but I don’t die. My cheeks swell up and flush with blood, burn a little bit, but that’s it. Because I’m strong. Even though I can feel them from head to toe, I’ll never let me beat myself.

I’m happy one second and miserable the other. My heart often feels like it wants to jump out from all the pain.. and just break. But Kitty, I’ve managed to keep it in. There’s no pill that can stop your heart from hurting but I fight with my pain. Even though it sometimes builds up. For that, Kitty, I have my trustworthy pillow. It’s soft, from one of those TopShop brands you see on TV. Funny how we all fall for their ads. It works really well. It absorbs each and every tear that drops and makes them less painful. I have one night of turning into a human volcano and my pillow helps me through it. As dumb as it sounds, sometimes nobody understands and the best shoulder for you to cry on is actually yours. Even if you can’t reach it, you have your pillow. Often I fall asleep with my face scarred from all the tears. I wake up and I look in the mirror, smiling, knowing whatever I went through last night didn’t tip me over. And it never will Kitty. Because I won’t let it. But? How do I explain this pain building up inside me? It’s almost like my body is getting weaker and weaker by every thought it produces, making me overthink.. and eventually cry. Silly little tears. Once I explode I can’t feel my organs. Even if I tried to, I can’t explain how much these tears, little to you but enormous for my pain, cause so much of my body to stop functioning. You can’t understand it if you haven’t had any painful night like mine. You can try, but nothing can explain pain but pain itself. I hope you never experience it. I hope you never experience the burning tingles going through your body as your eyes let out more and more pain in the form of tears. So what’s the point of it all? I still ask myself. Why do I experience this much pain? And you ask me who hurt me.. The worst thing is that I did, and I don’t know how to stop. You can’t really stop me, can you? Sometimes your inner demons are more powerful than all of the angels floating above you. But I know, one day, I’ll wake up completely happy. Not one burden on my shoulder, not a rock on my back. Just a floating little fairy. Until then, Kitty, I’ll continue to let it out. Only strong people are brave enough to show their vulnerability. So here I am, showing it. Is it any clearer to you now?

Thank you for listening to me, Kitty. You really let this weight go off my shoulders. I guess I don’t have to resort to the pillow too much anymore. I have you too.

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Constantly looking at photos of models that are presented as perfect, not a flaw on their face, no stretch marks, age marks or freckles. That beautiful girl we see in the magazines we buy to encourage ourselves to lose weight, fitness magazines that show us pictures of so-called "perfect" girls.

Obsessing over our body measurements. If our waist is not this size, we go to the gym to work out or starve ourselves for a few days, only to be happy at what we look at later on in the mirror. That small waist that is shown to us as ideal from the voice of society.

Not eating for several days only to keep our weight at a certain number, having unhealthy habits of only drinking water so we maintain that weight.

Finding pictures of a model walking on a runway, standing in front of the mirror only to compare our looks and measurements so we can see how far we are from being "perfect".

Insisting on cutting out meals. Making sure we input an even amount of calories each day, not more, maybe less. We'll lose weight faster, right?

Denying the fact that we're hungry, lying to not only other people but also ourselves. Our stomach isn't craving food, it's just letting out sounds to tell us he's fine with us not eating regularly, right?

Earning applause from other people after they see how much weight you've lost.

Navigating ourselves towards a lower weight, making sure we stay in the same consistency, eating as little as possible and denying the fact that we're hungry.

Crying over the number on the scale every day after it has not dropped to the amount you want it to drop to.

Embracing the fact that you have an eating disorder. For what? The pictures you found of girls presented as "perfect" thinking they are worth it just because of their number on the scale. You now try and fix it and cry over how much you worried about your looks before your health.

Is that how you gain confidence, dear? Do you stand in front of the mirror and compare yourself to every pretty girl/boy you saw online, causing yourself to develop an eating disorder. Do you think that's the right way? Or do you think you should embrace who you are and flaunt it? Rock that new dress you have in your closet no matter if it shows a bit of your extra fat, rock the shirt that shows a little skin so people are able to see your unique stretch marks. Don't let people tell you what you're supposed to look like. You are YOU. A unique person who doesn't need to change for anyone but themselves. So go on, wear the dress you were self-conscious about. You are BEAUTIFUL.

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