Stones Everywhere 5c2ba

Table of Contents

Yara & Dysthymia (Chapter 1)

Yara & The Ende (Chapter 2)

Yara & The last Chapter (Chapter 3)

YARA & DYSTHYMIA

(Chapter 1)

I’d been looking forward to my holiday the whole year. At the beginning of it, my 7-year relationship had come to an end. My ex-girlfriend cheated on me but by that time it was more bad than good anyway. Then the whole ‘Corona-MediaWave came at us. So, I was sure that the holiday in Antalya at my regular hotel would bring me relaxation.

It was 10.10.2020 when I went down to the hotel restaurant for dinner. Because of Corona, there was no self-service, so one was served as you would in a canteen. This is how I unsuspectingly came into with Yara. She was a waitress for me at that moment, just like everyone else in the restaurant… one of many... But when she finished serving me and handed me the plate over the counter, I cheekily slipped her a tip. I could only tell that she was looking at me in bewilderment by her eyes since it was compulsory to wear masks and I was unable to see her whole face.

I went to my table and ate my food, answering various WhatsApp messages. The topic was, among other things, can you guess? Exactly. Corona. Suddenly a waiter arrived and welcomed a couple at the front of the buffet. I could see the scene well as I was sitting directly opposite. The couple’s greeting was so artificial and contrived that Yara and I exchanged looks properly for the first time and we could tell that we were both smiling. How was I able to recognize that? When one laughs, the cheekbones round and push upwards. She made crazy signs that she was going in the direction of her work colleague. I replied with signs back to her. She began to laugh. Apparently, I had caught her attention.

I continued to eat while at the same time hear her whispering to her work colleagues and noticing their glances. I didn’t think anything of it, in fact, I found it rather amusing. Especially when she and her colleague strolled past my table and presented me with a rose made out of a napkin. I assumed that someone in the kitchen had folded it because, as I would find out later, it wasn’t her - she didn't have that talent. But hey, no biggie. I was flattered. It was late and the restaurant was clearing out. The kitchen staff slowly began cleaning up and Ibrahim, the restaurant manager, came up to my table and sat across from me. We made some small in English; the obligatory, “How are you?”, which is when he noticed the paper rose. He thought it was good; but it gave him an idea.

All of a sudden Yara appeared at the table. Ibrahim asked her for some napkins, which she brought straight away. He took one of them and did the handiwork then instructed Yara to follow his lead, but she wasn’t able to do it. She crumpled up the napkin and put it in her breast pocket. That’s when I thought:

“Perfect chance to take a picture together!”

A few years ago, my ex-girlfriend also had her picture taken with waiter. I gave Ibrahim my mobile phone and asked him to take a picture of Yara and me. I held her rose in my hand while standing beside her. The result was not very good, and we looked super strange. She didn’t want to sit down, so I grabbed her mobile phone, knelt down beside her and took pictures of us with an Instagram filter. From that moment on, we wrote a lot to each other through Instagram in a combination of English and Turkish. Of course, we both used the Google translator app.

The next day she had to work in the snack bar outside by the pool. I thought I

would surprise her with a gift and gave her Ibrahim’s rose. She was embarrassed and acted like she was smelling it, then she put the rose in her hair as an ornament. That was worth a photo, so I took another snapshot. From then on, every time she wanted to see me, she texted me to ask if I would come for dinner. One afternoon I asked her if she would like to go for a walk. What an exciting feeling it was when she said ‘yes’. The evening of the same day we met outside the hotel for the first time.

She bought a bottle of water in the shop near the hotel, I bought one too when she came out and we went behind the market where there is a small park. On the way to a tree where we sat down, she wrote that she’d brought me something, a thank you for the rose, and presented me with a small bar of chocolate... How sweet was that? A small gesture with satisfaction of gratitude. What kind of mentality is this in Turkey? To get excited over little things… I was fascinated.

As we sat under the tree and communicated with our mobile phones, it all felt a bit distant, but we were able to exchange ideas and that’s all that mattered! She showed me pictures of her father, her mother, her siblings. It was clear she missed them and that she was very proud of her family. Then, to make it easier so we could continue writing, she called me on WhatsApp. I had already given her my number on Instagram chat, but now we were writing via WhatsApp. And I thought she wouldn't give her telephone number. Ha! We said goodbye after a long while. It was already after midnight and I think she needed her sleep. I found the evening very entertaining and pleasant. I also liked the way she was always teasing me. I would discover later that it’s simply the Turkish way.

Since I don’t like to get up early on holiday, I struggled hard to wake up the next day for breakfast. But after all, she was going to be waiting for me. That morning Defne also arrived from reception. She’s German-Turkish and therefore we could understand each other without problems. And what did I find out? That Yara asked Defne if I had come on holiday alone. In other words, she asked someone else about me. What a strange but significant event for me.

From then on, I couldn’t wait for evening to arrive. Now it was time… we met together at the market and Yara got to know Hira the saleswoman personally. I have known Hira for a few years now. Yara asked her what kind of person I am and if she could trust me. Hira reacted positively immediately and told her that she did not need to worry, it’s perfectly okay for us to spent time together in the park. “It doesn’t matter what others think,” said Hira.

You could tell that Yara felt uncomfortable, but more in the shy sense, and very reserved towards other strangers. This does not bother me. So, we went behind the market and picked out a tree again, which became “our tree”, and started chatting again through Google - long live the translator!

Every time she wrote something, she held me her mobile phone right under my nose so I couldn't read her text. She threw grass at me, she tickled my sides, she held her hands over the display when I wrote something. She said that she liked annoying me. Then she began giving me little love bites, like cats, which is a symbol of affection. She bit my hands, arm, my shoulder. There was more affection afterwards as each time I drew her to me and she apologised when it was too much, stroking the spots and kissing them.

She started to get cold and tired, so she snuggled up to me more and more, laying in my arms, her head leaning against mine. We held each other tight and enjoyed the togetherness. I relished every breath of her scent and the smell of her hair as well as the perfume she’d applied. For our second meeting, she had taken off her work clothes and got dressed up for me. Her eyes were made up and she had applied a light lipstick and, as I already mentioned, wore a perfume.

Our faces moved closer and closer together and we poked our noses at each other, like Eskimos do. We kissed each other’s cheek and nestled ever closer together. Our lips met the corners of each other’s mouth, and after only a few millimetres we pressed our lips together. What a beautiful, indescribable, exciting feeling.

When I think back on my ex-girlfriend Anna, she was just Anna and it hadn’t been what it should have been for years. But after all these years I finally felt comfortable and warm again. I felt safe and secure. I felt wanted. I felt ensconced. I have not known this magical feeling and desire for years, maybe even decades. We looked at each other and I thought:

Çok güzel sin!

She took out her mobile and asked me why I had kissed her. I answered, “Because we both wanted it.” She held me tightly, looked at me, and kissed me one more time, then laid her head in my arm again and dozed off slowly. Now my head came into play, that stupid brain-fuck of depression, instead of enjoying the moment:

“What the hell are you doing right now? Are you stupid? Do you even want this? It won't work with the two of you. She’s Turkish woman, she wants to get married, she wants children, she doesn't even live near you, she is (too) young.”

All the things I am unable to offer her; that which I do not want to give her¹. In the meantime, there had been a few more kisses, then we said goodbye after one more kiss.

From that moment on, we couldn’t leave each other alone, even though it was only our mobile phones that connected us. Even the video call was all about seeing each other, not even speaking. When I was at the snack bar, we took turns writing with our smartphones. Even trivial things, just so I could stand beside her, and we could touch each other. I took advantage of every moment, because I later learned that it was her last day of work. She didn’t expect it and least of all me. But her season was over. In the evening she met with friends and work colleagues to celebrate the farewell because she was going back home to the big city. Of course, I felt dejected... Why couldn't we spend the time together?

“Oh, head, are you doing this again? Stay calm!”

That night she ed me and said she wanted to see me, even though it would be for just for a short time, which I did not know at the time. I went over to the market. She was very happy to see me, but equally happy to move on after what felt like about a minute.

“Come on, Manuel... what did you expect?”

We’d only met each other a few days before!

At one point when she was drunk, Yara asked me how old I was. I made her guess. She thought I was about 25 years old. I told her I was 26 because I didn’t want to discourage her.

“What, are you lying to her now? What's wrong with you...?”

The next day I planned to go with her into the city but that didn’t happen. She still had a few things to sort out at the hotel and the employer. So, I was left alone that day.

Welcome back to the foreground, my beloved DYSTHYMIA, bringing with you your best friend: Double Depression!

In the evening I went for a walk on the beach and listened to only one song “FML - Fuck My Life”.

Wasted Penguinz - FML

Dreaming in a world that I can't see, maybe in another life I will find an inner peace, a place where I am free. I wanna scream out loud, nothing's what it used to be. There's a war inside my mind but I'm not the enemy.

My brain decomposed into a thousand shreds. Tears were streaming down my cheeks. Could other people see it? I didn’t care. I walked on “unprotected”, looking out to sea and the evening sun. As a gentleman overtook me, the next question came:

“What is this shit? Why is he able to walk normally and I can't?² Why do I have these fucking

problems? Why can he, but not me? What have I done to look like this, to suffer so much, to be so depressed? Being so... insignificant? Who do I benefit? Okay… my cat. She needs me and I need her.”

“A pet. Seriously?”

I could not and would not reproach anyone. Yara neither. Why I should? I’m the guilty one. I’m the one who has to be punished. I am the one who is resigned to my fate. I am the hunter and the hunted.

“Oh no, here comes a nervous breakdown.”

The last one I had was 12 years ago. I found it important and decisive for me to write everything down at that moment. Unadulterated, unobjective, unresponsive. Under this pressure to put words and thoughts to hate and pain so I could send them to my therapist and neurologist by email. Because you (I) do not always have your (my) door open. Often the doctor or therapist only sees a façade with a few windows tilted. I wonder what they think about me now, about what I wrote during the breakdown… As I looked into the mirror and saw myself, I wanted to smash it. There was only one way to beat myself up. The anger, the grief, the hatred of life screaming out inside.

The last day or evening with her, so far. We saw each other briefly at noon. As usual, we met at the market. She squealed with joy from afar when she saw me.

She brought a friend and a work colleague with her, but they didn’t stay long, so I was able give her a T-shirt of her favourite football club, which I had bought before. I wore it to sleep the night before so that it smelled of me. She appreciated it very much, not only because it was her football club but because it came from me. We hugged each other and I squeezed her so hard since it would be the last time.

“No, I don't want to let her go. Stay with me! Hold Me! Protect Me! Give me your warmth for the rest of my life! “Manuel, what are you doing there again? Do you just want to take what does not belong to you?”

The last evening. Regardless of the fact that she kept me waiting and I should’ve been pissed off... she arrived, she saw her people from work again and said only: “Just a moment,” before she ran over to the hotel and kept me waiting for an hour. Hira said, “She’s still young and naïve, Manuel, but it will be all right. Don’t worry about it.” Oh yes... how can I blame her? Facebook showed me thar she’s only 20 years old.

“And me? I am old and no longer naive, or am I naive after all?”

When she returned, Hira reacted angrily and said to her, “It’s not right that you made him wait so long!” Then we went quickly back to our tree. This time she played Turkish love songs. They sounded like it at least, even if I did not understand the lyrics. I asked her if I could play a song of mine. She said yes and gave me her smartphone. I typed into YouTube:

Lord Huron -The Night We Met

The song is about a deceased girl who had committed suicide and the one who loved her had not had the courage to tell her so during her lifetime. That famous: I love you and am there for you. Now that she was dead, he looked back on the evening where they met, and he asks himself the question: Should I have told her?

While the song was playing, I gave her a small box. She opened it and saw the bracelet I bought her. She put it on right away and I could see the gleam in her eyes through the dark of the night. She covered me with her jacket because she thought I was freezing and we cuddled together, seeking our closeness, our touch, our warmth. Again, and again, we took each other in our arms, hugged each other, kissed each other.

“Why can’t I stand still? Why me? What does she like about me? Has she fallen in love with me? Why has she shown interest from the start? Do I even deserve this?”

When we said our goodbyes, we hugged each other again and again. Our lips met again and again. She translated that we will meet again next year but I said no. She looked at me and asked, “But why not?” “Because I want to see you again as soon as possible. I don’t want to wait until next year.”

I think the answer hit her deeply. During the last hug she tried to suppress her tears, rubbing them away quickly. I too tried... What remained was a slight sobbing. I didn't want to look like a sad, old, stupid, depressed asshole.

We went into the light of the streetlamps. She took my smartphone and made some pictures of us. The last time again... she crossed the street, we looked at each other briefly and went our separate ways. I went to the hotel, she to her accommodation near the hotel. I could understand her. I wished I had more time with her. But as already written, what absurd claims do I have? She missed her family. She missed her home.

And since then? She sends me pictures. She wears the bracelet. She keeps wanting to make video calls. Is it a good sign? Or just a here and now? I don't know. I only know that my feelings are big. That my feelings are strong. Have I fallen in love? Am I in love?

Yara = little Butterfly A curse or a blessing?

Many of those affected find it very difficult to explain their own depression to themselves and especially to others who have never been depressed before.

(Unknown) ¹ My situation not to marry and not to have any more children.

Yara & The Ende

(Chapter 2)

Well, look at that... here I am again. For not being a writer at all, I'm breaking my own record!

Let me return to that last day. It was a Saturday. That evening I was going back. Back to . Back to the grey and tasteless everyday life. On top of that, it was autumn, which made the whole thing even more unbearable.

“But hey, why so sad? You’ve just received a message from Yara. Isn't that good? Yes, it's always good when she writes me.”

She asked me to come to the hotel earlier that day. To see me! That evening, the hotel held a season’s end party where the staff and their families got together again. The gathering started at 6 pm, but I didn't care. I only had 5 pm on my mind. I was going to spend a whole hour with her. She’d written to me that she would come to the market at 5 pm. I was so happy and countless butterflies flew around my solar plexus! I packed the rest of my things into the suitcase with a sad and smiling face. On the one hand, I was deeply sad because the holiday had not been relaxing. On the contrary, it had taken a lot out of me, which is why I was tired. (And I will get even more tired...) But on the other, I was looking

forward to seeing Yara again. Therefore, thinking positively, I checked out at 4 pm.

I went to the market, sat down and ed the time listening to music. This time I listened to the soundtrack for 13 Reasons Why. You know, the TV show in which the girl takes her own life. I began to count the minutes. How good that I had stopped counting at some point, because one or the other song had captivated me. But was I captivated by Yara? Unfortunately, not!

4:30 pm. 4:45. 5:00. etc. etc. Once again, she left me stranded! What was I now? Mad, angry, sad, tired? Or simply everything? In the meantime, she wrote me that she would come later. At least there was some sign of life. But I had already suspected at that point, there would be more to come. Suddenly she came running up with some friends or work colleagues. She wrote with the translator that she was late, and she was completely out of breath.

“Are you actually serious right now, Yara? You were late? I've been waiting here for you for over three f*cking hours!”

And as quickly as she had come, she disappeared again. “I'm already late for the party at the hotel!” What else could I do at that moment than to stand up and take her in my arms? To hold her tight? To give her kisses on the cheeks, which she returned with the same. I sat back down, fighting back tears. She said she really had to go now but I pulled her to me. I pressed my head to her belly and held her like it was the last time.

“And it was the last time, you a loser!”

She disappeared into the hotel. And I had a visitor... sadness, loss and fear. I didn’t move at all normally². My body was shaking all over. I cried and convulsed as if the little boy's mother was being taken away. I had (as I am) one last present for her in the suitcase so I went back to the hotel, got it out and went to hand it in at reception. But there was no one there. Ibrahim was in the lobby and asked me if I was hungry. I declined, thanking him. While I was trying to give the gift to Yara, she wrote to me on WhatsApp, asking her boss (one of the chefs) if she could take me to the restaurant for dinner. Of course, he agreed. I would not have expected anything else.

“Yara. What's up? I'm being picked up by the airport transfer in 30 minutes. I'm practically on my way to the airport. And I am supposed to sit among hundreds of people with a sad and disappointed face?”

No, thank you, not interested. Even though you wrote that you wanted it so badly! I want so many things too, but do I always get them? Everyone can answer that question for themselves. From that moment on, my thoughts only circled around Yara. At the airport I listened to the following song on a loop

Lovely von Billie Eilish & Khalid

Back in . Back to half-reality. How good that WhatsApp exists. It didn't

take long before we were writing to each other again. Had I forgiven yesterday? I think so! Because without a break, we didn't stop writing, even started video calling more and more often again. So, I was introduced to the whole family right away. She showed me her father, her brother, her little nephew. You could tell that the family was in a good mood. I also “met” her friends one day later. It was always unclear to me why she did it. Unfortunately, I don't understand Turkish. But I still let her do it, because I could see her! That's all I wanted at that moment. Once, however, a possible answer came to my attention. I asked someone from Turkish circles what I should think? Why is she showing me her whole family? - does she want to brag that she met a German (boyfriend)? But the thought faded each time I saw her and if I had put my limited vision aside... I am aware of that today.

And at the same time, I made plans. Goals that I had set myself. There were 4:

1. Become psychologically stable again 2. Learn more Turkish (independent of Yara) 3. Change my diet and lose weight 4. See her again as soon as possible

I also thought little of the fact that she was distancing herself from me at times. Because we both had our everyday lives back again. Then again, I was allowed to participate in her life. She often wrote that she missed me. She missed our hugs and that she loves me. Yes, she had actually written it!

Seni seviyorum

Early one evening I told her my idea. I wanted to see her again - not next year! I suggested that I fly to her over for New Year’s after my birthday. “Whose birthday?” she asked me.

“My birthday,” I said. December 26th. Her birthday is on February 19th and she is 20 years young. Until then, we hadn't really talked about birthdays or age, except for that night when she was drunk. Now came what was destined to come. It would have come out at some point anyway. I was flooded with shame and fear. And since we were talking on the phone, she could feel it. I hesitated, asked counter-questions like, “What would be too old for you?” and “How big of an age difference can there be?” My insecurity grew and grew, and I thought to myself, if she really likes you, she'll call you back. I was ready, under no uncertain , to write her. I did. I typed in the number 36 and ended the phone call.

“Are you serious now, Manuel?”

And that's exactly what she asked me! “You hung up on me. That wasn’t necessary. Why did you lie to me?”

The question was like torture for me. What was I doing? The fear and shame increased. How was I supposed to prove to her that I had had doubts from the beginning?

“Okay, Manuel, just pull the ripcord now. Put everything on one card. Tell her your story. Come on! Hurry up! Enlighten her.”

And so, I unintentionally came to the next trundle. “Hey Yara, I’m not a bad

person. I never lie. It was just a little white lie. It’s the proof in the story; I love you, too. I have indescribable feelings for you! In my previous relationship, I always gave and never got anything in return. I'm playing with open cards from now on. I want you to trust me. Trust and honesty are precious commodities. And yes, I have a daughter, but I haven't seen her for 8 years.” Further complications were not long in coming. Another torture hit me, and I owed her answers. She’d translated the story with her translator app… then…

“I am just a Turkish woman. I only want to get married and have children. And please, what do you have? A daughter!? I can stay with you, but my family won’t accept it. We Kurds are not like that.”

It tore the ground out from under my feet. An endless fall. No safety net. No hay.

“Oh man, not again. Not another nervous breakdown. Why you? Why do you always get a stick thrown between your legs? Stop cramping now. Do not induce an epileptic fit!”³

She called me over and over again. She wrote: “Please answer the phone!” So, I did. She had the T-shirt with her, the one I gave her. The one that smelled like me. She cuddled with it. Snuggled up to it. Sniffed it and yet she felt the distance. Just like me! I sobbed. In my camera had a weak and weepy face. And what is Yara doing? She tried to calm me down. She said I should smile. Otherwise, she would start crying too. She played the song:

Lord Huron -The Night We Met

It was “our” song. How attentive she could be! I calmed down and we ended the conversation with a usual, “See you later”. That was a standard phrase at the hotel.

The next day she woke me up early. It was 7 am in . She had to take her little nephew to preschool. So, we strolled off together and when they arrived, she hung up and as always and said: “Bye-bye, see you later.”

“Okay Manuel... is this just a little reset now? Think carefully about how you can educate her. Give her the time. Give yourself time. Give yourself both time! No matter what.”

The song fits! Emotional, with a clear message and thousands of people singing along at the same time:

Brennan Heart & Jonathan Mendelsohn - Imaginary

And it is said, among other things:

Sleep to dream tonight, fill in the empty spaces that have left shadows. You and I are going to create a new world deep in our minds. Although the reality sometimes seems imaginary! Happiness is within our reach here, and although it cannot be seen, I see the world that was created in my dreams, imaginary! I still feel just as liberated, imaginary! Galaxies surrounded by lights and collapsing, all the fears the shadows left behind.

I think the message got through... The last and only night together with Yara was coming up. Late in the evening she called me while listening to “Imaginary” in the background. No one had ever done that for me before. To play what afterwards became our common song.

I was surprised as I had not yet received an answer as to whether it was okay to fly over to her for the New Year, so I asked again. She told me not to hurry, she’d be working in another hotel over the New Year. Wait until April?! Now the time had come. She invited me to fall asleep next to her, as if we were really together. In one bed, embraced, surrounded by warmth and the strongest feeling of two people who found each other at that moment.

LOVE (AŞK)

We fell asleep while the video call continued. It were as if we had really been lying next to each other. Because every time one of us turned to see if the transmission was still on, our eyes met. We looked at each other for a while and then sank back into sleep...

“Walk in, walk in! Be there - take advantage of the unique opportunity to be there live – Welcome back to reality!!! What do you want with a floor under your feet? We’ll take that away from you in a moment…”

“Are we now a couple? Are we building something together? Shall we engage in the journey that has been given to us? Just enjoy it and don't drive yourself crazy again. Shit on F34.1”⁴

Somehow, I felt the need to tell the whole world! Yes, I was freshly in love. I felt good and I had to let everyone know. The whole world should know now! Having previously posted our pictures together, I finally wanted to take the next step. It should now be official on Facebook: in a relationship with Yara. But this plan did not last long. Without further ado, I received a message from her. Please don’t publish our story. Otherwise, her parents and relatives might get wind of it. “And please remove the “Y” everywhere, it could lead to conclusions. “Thank you for your understanding!” she wrote.

“Wait a minute! Did I miss something? What just happened? Why is she so far away again, so terribly aloof? What have I done wrong? The parents know me by now. Why would they suddenly have something against me?”

I had decided to grant her wish. Not only that; I removed all the pictures we had together. All the pictures that had been taken. Even our last selfies in the light of the streetlamps, where we looked happy and content. I wrote to her that I had also removed our pictures, because I didn't want her to get “trouble from the family”.

What was going on all of a sudden? I would have done so much for her. I wanted to see her as often as I could during my remaining holiday. I already felt that I was not being taken seriously. I wanted to fly to Serik at the end of the year, no matter what, she would have had to work there then, wouldn’t she? I wanted to realise my 4 goals as quickly as possible. I confessed my feelings to her and confided my secrets. I just felt like a volleyball.⁵ “I don't feel like playing right now, so I throw the ball out and come back for it when I feel like it.”

I didn’t understand anything anymore. I called her. In the video I only saw a pale face. I had no choice. I cried and cried like there was no tomorrow. I begged her to tell me what I had done wrong, what had happened. I asked her if she really missed me. I asked her how strong her feelings for me were. I told her how big my feelings were. How much she meant to me. And yes, I got an answer from her... she turned the camera so I couldn't see her, and I perceived a relentless cry. It was like we hugged each other and cried together. The only thing missing was the song Bittersweet Symphony...

“Where is below? Where is above? Where is left and where is right? Where am I anyway? Is this another parallel universe for depressed people? Is there a hand I can hold somewhere? Why is

everything so dark, deserted and cold here? As cold as the onset of winter. And I'm stuck in the middle of the snow, can't get back and forth! Think Manuel, concentrate, you will find a solution for this.”

Who could help me now? Who could bring light into the darkness? Beforehand, my best Turkish friend Meliz and I had already talked about it, even if it had been in irony. She agreed to do this. So, she called Yara.

I got hot, I got cold, I started to tremble. If I had to talk, only the purest stuttering would have come out. Something was happening. The minutes felt like hours. Then Meliz ed me... she wrote to me that she had also spoken to Yara's father. And at that moment I came back down to earth. She didn't have to tell me anything more. It was already there.

Feelings of destruction, crucifixion and death – all at the same time.

The feeling of being left like an injured deer on the side of the road, while your eyes stare off into the distance in panic, blood trickling from your mouth. Breathing becomes difficult. Like gripping on to a small root between your fingers and the abyss is hundreds of metres deep. And you know it's almost over, you're dying. There is no one to hold your hand now. You lie in this black hole and someone pours more and more earth on you. In a moment you will no longer breathe. You are out on the open sea, drowning. Don't fight any more. Let it go. In a moment you will have done it. In a moment you will fall asleep and sleep forever.

Her father spoke out against our . Her family forbids our being together. From the very beginning, for safety's sake, I was only introduced as a friend. I am not tolerated by her Kurdish family. I am even despised. I may even experience trouble if I do not delete “all pictures” of and with her. And IMMEDIATELY! (That’s the first version)

“Come on, it's just one of your nightly nightmares. You'll wake up again in a moment and can take a deep breath. All is well! Can someone here finally wake me up? Hello? Is someone there?”

“Yes, I can wake you! Welcome back. And have fun with your new bout of depression. You’ve earned it!” Reality said to me.

Everything is over. The dream is over. The candle has gone out. It ended before it even began. The sun disappeared on the horizon.

But what about her? What could Yara say? I know she has to obey the code and it's the 21st century! Are we even allowed to exist anymore? Who justifies it? Aren't we living in modern times?

Don't we all know the famous speech by Martin L. King?

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed cheering, and all flesh shall see it together.

And what does she say now? What I didn't want to hear! I shouldn't any more pictures of us in Instagram stories. In fact, I should forget her! I should never write to her again. I should leave her alone! Did it come from her? Or was it really pressure from the family?

Was it all just a game for you? Was it all just an exciting experience? Why? Why me? Why did you watch me? Why did you give me the rose? Why did you meet with me? Why were you in my arms? Why did we kiss? Why did we write so much to each other? Why did you always look at me happy and in love? Did you ever really love me? Did you ever really miss me? … even though you knew there was no future for us together.

If you love, you can forgive. If you cannot forgive, you do not love.

(Manuel Kallikat) ² My suffering from leg-related hemiparesis. ³ My illness of epilepsy. ⁴ The ICD10 Code of Dysthymia. ⁵ She is a volleyball player.

Yara & The last Chapter

(Chapter 3)

Actually, my trauma experience will be written here at the end. Even so, after two weeks, Yara kept looking at my stories on Instagram and WhatsApp. She even called me with a video call, although I could only perceive angry words or looks at that moment. But she didn't want to use the translator either, so at first, I was confused.

Once again, I couldn't explain what had happened, or maybe I could? Was it because I was writing to her colleague? Or that there were still memory photos on Instagram? This was the direction it was to take later. But before that, I finally wanted to know one thing: The truth! So, I wrote to my friend Meliz:

“What really happened on your phone call with Yara and her father? I need the truth for my own peace, because things don't add up here.”

A short time later I got the answer. “I have to tell you something and believe me, after Anna, I only wanted to protect you. The father didn’t play a big role. Yara was the one who spoke unsympathetically about you.”

“Are you serious? That's can’t be true, can it? I know you wanted to protect me, but it made

things much worse!”

At the same time, she wrote to Yara to ask why she still hadn't enlightened me. While I was trying to get more information, Meliz got a little too excited. She noticed how much I was still suffering, how deep my pain was, how much my depression had a grip on me. The only thing missing was the final thought: No longer wanting to live.

Yara called her incessantly while she tried to calm me down until she finally took the call. There was a violent confrontation between the two. The dialogue was actually relatively constant.

Yara said: “Abla, he bugs me. He exaggerates, he thinks we have the great love here, but that's not the case. He's just imagining things. He behaves like a schizophrenic. And he's not normal.”

Meliz was perplexed, yet nevertheless countered: “You met with him, didn't you? You took pictures with him. You introduced him to your parents. It didn't happen quite as normally as that. There must have been more going on than you want to it now, so that he got his hopes up. You wrote him that you love him. That you miss him. That you miss the hugs. You kissed and then you don't want to do anything? You were probably still making fun of him. Now, be honest. You don't have to be afraid of Manuel, he won’t do anything and he's a really nice guy.”

Of course, it went back and forth for quite a while but in the end, it was only back and forth, because to this day Yara has not acknowledged her mistakes. She kept repeating that she had done nothing and that I had imagined everything.

And so, we come back to a possible motive.... Why all of this? Was I right after all, that I was just her volleyball? That for Yara, it was just a game and an adventure? A game with fire, trying something new. And that still, as a woman in Turkey, because what else is exciting when the hotel season is over for work? Has my complete opinion about the country and the mentality now been shifted into the wrong picture?

This vacation was meant to give me strength again! My retreat from everything. The processing of the previous bad relationship, the hiding of current events, being noticed by people who always wait a year for you. It was supposed to be “my” first “holiday” alone. It was the opposite. I had to share my holiday with f*cking Dysthymia. The holiday demanded a lot. Too much for such a short time. Too much for a heart that was just healing. Too much for a soul that was just trying to find peace. Now I stand here again. Left alone. Dropped. Left behind. All that remains for me are countless broken pieces. In which not only love, but also friendships that nearly went to pieces. Due to lack of communication, misunderstandings and mutual trust and appreciation. I will have annoyed many during this time. Some have turned their backs on me. As well as me out of frustration, anger and fear. My neck, my strength and my courage were broken. I am a broken person.

Yara = small Butterfly

My longing = my pain

Yara & Dysthymia = it turned out to be a curse, not a blessing

In the heart = the beautiful memories remain

Depression, anxiety and panic attacks are not a sign of weakness. They are signs of having tried to remain strong for way too long.

(Jon Brandt-Cederhäll, Wasted Penguinz)

When you stand before me and look at me, what do you know of the pains that are in me and what do I know of yours?

(Franz Kafka)

The End

A last word:

The ending was a surprise and a turnaround for me and I'm sure for others. It's not a question of asg blame. I do not want to judge or condemn anyone here. I can also understand when someone defends their opinion and position. Did she make mistakes? Have I made repeated mistakes? As I always say, a medal always has two sides, and this story was my side.

As already mentioned in the first chapter, depressed people find it difficult to talk about their illness. It is still a taboo subject and many people do not take people with depression seriously or notice them at all, therefore feeling all the more pigeonholed. If you then it that you have to take life-crucial antidepressants. Whereas in America, antidepressants are classified as a legal modern drug for everyone, here you are more likely to be told: “You can't cope with your life, that's why you have to take them.” or “Oh, what do you want with those, you can live without medication.” Is it then a life or a survival? I believe the latter.

After all, I can't say to a thyroid sufferer: “You don't need the pills, you won't get fat. And your hormones will take care of everything.” or to a person with diabetes: “What do you want with insulin? You'll be fine without it if you stick to your diet.”

What I want to say:

Every fourth person suffers from depression once in their life. Good for those who can be treated quickly and efficiently because for many, life goes on with a new perspective. Only a few weeks or months are needed for the “patient” to feel well again and is considered recovered. In many cases, the addition of antidepressants is not necessary. Or they are limited to the night, for a restful and stress-free sleep. Psychotherapeutic counselling also helps to find oneself again.

And then there are the people who really struggle with depression, those who have to keep a demon at bay for years - sometimes even a lifetime. Why don't “they” get better quickly?

As a very good friend said to me once, “It's not your fault. It's in your head!”

Whereas in the case of a one-off depression, the household of neurotransmitters is very quickly rebalanced, chronically depressed people have to continuously protect and accompany their household with medicines. Antidepressants help the sufferer lead a largely normal life in the long term. Without these little protectors, the sufferer is at the mercy of his demons / the enemy in his head and that can lead to suicide or self-harm.

Please, no empty phrases:

For depressed people, apart from the actual depression, there is nothing worse than platitudes. These are like a slap in the face. Someone might as well stand up and laugh at you. It has the same effect!

People with depression want to be taken seriously, but not pitied.

Sayings like: It'll be fine - I was also in a bad way the other day - Why are you depressed? You have no reason to be - My dog also had depression - Don't think so much about it - Others have it much worse - Don't make such a fuss.

With those kinds of sayings, I always think: “Why don’t you live my life for a day and then we'll talk again.”

And the story with Yara...? She is my story! No one else can feel this pain. No one else can feel this helplessness.

I am my own master, and I will resolve this. When, where and how fast is at the discretion of the heart and the brain. I choose the people who are willing and able to help me with this. Who I think are the right people. Everything else takes time.

From the heart:

On this last page I would like to thank everyone from the bottom of my heart who ed me, helped me and were there for me during this difficult time. Special thanks for the help and spiritual strength go to:

Bärbel, Conny, Christine, Eléna, Sigrid, Angelina, Stacy, Ayla, Sibu, Uta & Nabil.

I would also like to thank them for their encouragement and tips during the writing process; this was the only way I could realise and publish the book. A big thank you goes to:

Sigrid Schüler (Freelance Journalist & Book Author) | Editing

Axel Rabenstein (Freelance Journalist & Book Author)

Stacy Thunes (German-American Actress & Screenwriter) | English proofreading

Ayla Uslu-Yildiz & Seydi Dag | Turkish translation

Sibu Mondal (Translator in India) | Indian translation

Text: © 2021 Manuel Kallikat Cover design: © 2021 Manuel Kallikat

Publications in the languages: German, Turkish, Hindi (Indian)

Manuel Kallikat Osterdammer Str. 2A 49401 Damme [email protected]

Production & Publishing: BoD – Books on Demand GmbH, Norderstedt

ISBN: 9783753488776