The first time someone called me fat, I was 7 years old. My grandma told my dad that he needed to watch what I was eating because it was apparent that I was beginning to gain weight. I overhead their conversation, and it hurt my feelings, but I didn’t think much of it after that. …
I drifted into a sea at night, hoping to forget all the damage he had inflicted. Eventually, I was so far from shore that I lost myself completely. I constantly felt uneasy and unbalanced. Like I was out of touch with reality. I was a stranger living in a foreign body, and I suddenly had no idea who I was or what I liked or what made my cup full.
It wasn’t until I got away that I started to feel at home again. And even that wasn’t immediate. It’s been a process.
Like most people, I am pretty good at making my life look a lot better on social media than it actually is. So, when I do really off-the-wall things (like move to another country by myself) and then suddenly change my plans (like come home five months earlier than expected), it usually comes with some sort of social consequence. In this case, I feel compelled to offer an explanation regarding what exactly happened that caused me to quit my Spain adventure.
Everything changed one night when I woke up around 4:00 AM in a panic. I had fallen asleep and quickly drifted into a nightmare about my brother – my first one in a year. In my dream, my brother was pacing back and forth across the house holding a gun in his hand. It seemed as if he was contemplating whether he should take his own life. He was crying, but he was also angry. He walked so aggressively across the living room that it seemed as if he didn’t realize I was watching him. Then, suddenly, he turned in my direction and glared at me. With rage in his eyes, he said, “YOU! You let me do this, Krystia! You let me kill myself! I hate you!” He put the gun to his head in front of me and pulled the trigger. I heard the noise and closed my eyes. Then, I woke up screaming, “No, Dominik, no! I’m sorry! No! Please don’t do this!” Haunting, right? Unfortunately, that was only the beginning.
I was nervous. I was in shock. I was confused. I was scared. I felt like I was losing my mind. “How could this be happening to me?” I thought to myself. “This cannot be real. Wake up, Krystia. Wake up already.” Slowly but surely, I realized this “nightmare” was becoming my reality. My brother had really killed himself.