Gratitude for the shit that has happened is something I will never feel. The rape has not made me who I am. The process afterwards is what has changed me. I burned. All of the anger and frustration became the fuel that gave my creative process and art deeper meaning. It was there that I was allowed to express my feelings and thoughts. The insight to be able to find ways through the trauma, grow up, become independent and follow my dream made me inaccessible. Even though I had the feeling that my life was over, I finally made it out on the other side. I thank art and myself. I have so much to live for and his actions no longer define me.
The feeling of fire, explosion and fighting spirit that filled my body is similar to the feeling I get from glassblowing. The heat, fragility and simultaneous hardness of the material. The adrenaline that pumps in this hectic process, the happiness when things go as they should, the disappointment when it all goes to hell, and the power to, no matter what, go in and fight again, not giving up until the results are perfect.
