la_frecks la_frecks

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Stef  • 33 • forest fairy • veg. burrito lover & bibliophile • • survivor raising awareness • • grateful heart • bass 🎸• • aoki & mr. snoop • 📍 berlin

old dogs matter 🧡

the road to my heart is paved with paw prints 💘


my dear women, may we see, hear, protect and support each other.
may we give each other the room to express ourselves without fear of being shamed, judged or threatened.
may we be understanding of different upbringings, cultures, relationship concepts and life goals.
may we treat each other with an open mind, warm heart and interest, rather than rejection and ignorance.
may we ask each other genuine and good-natured questions, when needed.
may we tell each other 'it's okay - you are good the way you are.'
it's okay if you love women, men or both.
it's okay if you are interested in polyamory, just as it is okay if you are monogamous.
it's okay if you cover up, show skin, have short hair, long hair, shaved skin, unshaved skin, wear make up or not.
you are beautiful - you deserve to feel beautiful for who you are, right now.
you shine your own light.
it's okay if you want 5 children or none at all. not every woman dreams of living the classic family life and some, for various reasons, can't have it - it doesn't make them less of a woman and they don't need to be reminded of the so called 'biological clock'.
trust me, they are aware and quite frankly, it's a personal and sensitive topic.
it's okay if you outgrow people or even yourself - allow yourself to evolve and seek new directions.
it's okay if you want to settle down, travel the world, go back to school, get a divorce, seek professional help or be a dog-obsessed bass player who swoons over fictional crushes, no biggie.
too often we are raised and conditioned to be rivals, to compare ourselves and dismiss each other due to our differences, when in fact we're all women, equals.
women with individual dreams, secret hopes, stories to tell, lessons to teach, hearts to touch and the ability to stand by each other - with tolerance and dignity.


'I like me better naked. I don't mean that in a vain way. when you put clothes on, you immediately put a character on. clothes are adjectives, they are indicators. when you don't have any clothes on, it's just you, raw, and you can't hide.'
-padma lakshmi, on being naked

how much do we love impatient mr. snoop? 😍

wisst ihr, manchmal gibt es tage, an denen ich ganz schön angst habe.
um mich, meine gesundheit.
um meine zukunft - eine zukunft ohne aoki und snoop.
ich frage mich dann: wer, vorallem wie, bin ich ohne die beiden?
wie wird mein leben aussehen, wenn es an schmerz- und schwindeltagen nicht mehr möglich ist meine nase in das weiche fell zu drücken oder an zimtfarbenden popcornpfötchen zu schnuppern? was mache ich, wenn die beiden mich nicht mehr voller liebe begrüßen? wenn ich keine ständigen leckerlibestellungen tätigen muss, nur um immer und immer wieder, in die mit vorfreude leuchtenden augen zu schauen.
wir drei haben einiges durchlebt und ich habe ausschnitte unserer geschichte bewusst mit euch geteilt - mit euch lieben menschen da draußen.
weil es mir gut tut und ich irgendwann realisiert habe, dass kleine worte großes bewirken können.
verstanden zu werden und sich nicht alleine zu fühlen ist groß - größer als man realisieren mag.
diese zahl neben meinem 'internetnamen' zu lesen fühlt sich nichtsdestotrotz absurd an.
eine zahl, welche, wenn wir ehrlich sind, einiges ermöglichen und beeinflussen kann.
und doch sagt diese nummer nichts über uns als person aus. sie nimmt keine ängste, überwindet keine hürden und bezahlt (in meinem fall) keine rechnungen.
sie schützt nicht vor dem lauf der zeit und den daraus resultierenden veränderungen.
heute, als aoki nach mir schaute, saß ich auf dem boden - knie fest an die brust gezogen, tränen auf dem verfärbten schlafshirt, schmerzen in hüfte, nacken, kopf und ziehen im herzen.
ganz sanft hat sie mich angestupst, als wollte sie sagen: 'mama, you are okay and you are not alone'.
oh, meine weise alte dame, mein baby.
aokis stupser ist mein türchen an euch.
ein stupser, welcher uns daran erinnern soll, dass wir nicht alleine sind.
wir werden begleitet - und nicht jede begleitung ist sichtbar ♡
habt einen feinen advent und danke für euch.

there is nothing inherently liberating in showing skin.
there is nothing inherently liberating in covering up.
the liberation lies in the choice.


team dog in bed - yes or no? 🐕

'you don't know what it's like' she said.
a common statement. a common thought. a common fear.
the truth is, many know, way too many.
it happened not too long after I came back from the states.
on a train.
she was sitting, baby in her arms, dog by her side.
he was furious, so furious he clearly didn't care about people witnessing their fight.
he was yelling, she was crying, the baby screaming and the dog shaking.
nobody said a thing. I sat there, haunted by flashbacks, not sure what I was supposed to do, what I could do.
I've been beaten and the fear of it happening again was overwhelming, but I also wanted to help. after all I was in her shoes once. I was in a situation where people most likely knew about the abuse and chose to look away. it's the 'none of our business' society that makes it even harder to speak up and when we do we're often blamed. shamed. denied our truth, our pain.
statistics say it's more likely for a man to be raped than being falsly accused of rape - think about it.
I tried gathering courage, but when he poured a bottle of beer over her and the baby, I jumped, instinctively.
and several people along with me.
seemingly it took one person to make the first move and in that case it was me.
I remember two men holding him down while I kneeled in front of her, whispering she deserves, needs, to seek help.
that's when she looked at me and said: 'you don't know what it's like'.
I felt pain for the both of us when I responded: 'trust me, I do'.
I really do and I know for a fact it's happening everywhere, all the time.
my account isn't glamorous nor fancy, but it's the account of a survivor who speaks up as often and as long as it takes until women feel more confident in speaking up. until we see changes!
thank you to my friend @alexandra_stanic for her hard work and for inspiring this text.

we are not alone!! ✊



if I would meet my old self I'd take her hand and softly say: 'you are braver than you could ever imagine, don't you dare ignore your potential. don't cry over cortisone-related hair loss - beauty is much more than what meets the superficial eye, it shines from within. wear that bikini with confidence - your body is doing a magnificent job and doesn't need to be hidden. stand up tall - your sensitivity and bluntness are not flaws to be ashamed of.
shame makes us small, almost invisible. it disconnects us from ourselves and the world. embrace who you are and who you are becoming.
you are not for everyone and that is okay, just like not everyone is for you.
let go of people who don't feel right anymore, without drama. allow people to let go of you. regrouping is a natual process for humans and creates space for new relationships, I promise.
walk that walk as long as you can.
dance to feel rather than to impress - other people's opinion doesn't define you and yours doesn't define them.
your way is not the highway - you don't always have to agree in order to be loving and respectful with each other.
demand respect.
communicate and protect your boundaries.
kiss aoki and snoop as much as possible - the older you get the faster time runs.
soon their faces will be grey and their steps slower.
you don't have to feel like this forever - you have ptsd and it can be treated.
learning to rip off your mask and seek help isn't a sign of weakness, but of strength and willingness to grow and understand.
take responsibility for yourself - nobody should do it for you.' there are many things I could tell young stef, but maybe that's not the point.
we're supposed to experience. to make mistakes. to stumble and curse.
to evolve.
so, if I could tell young stef one thing it would be: 'you'll be okay, over and over again'.

trigger warning - war.

my therapist once said 'you are the kind of flower that will bloom in the desert'.
her words, so pure and honest, gave me goosebumps.
today they remind me of him.
most stories are not ours to tell, but this one shall be read.
he looks down and says, almost whsipering: 'you know steffi, they shot my two brothers in front of me. peng, peng. they were gone within a second.'
now, how do you respond to something so horrible? are there words to ease the pain he must be feeling?
on a semi-conscious level we're aware of war, but it's far away - unimaginable.
most of us have never been confronted with the excruciating reality of it.
we've seen videos, pictures. we've heard the news and witnessed refugee-related conflicts in our country.
I ask him if he misses home and he gives me a sad smile. 'yes I do. every sunday we got together - the whole family. we talked and laughed. now we are seperated. some are dead, others still in syria. my sister lives in sweden, my mother and brother in a different city. I feel alone, but it's okay.'
I know he came here by himself - a dangerous journey in hope to protect the surviving family members.
my heart burns in my chest while I'm trying to grasp the depth of his trauma.
he is grateful to be here.
he is grieving his home.
nausea hits me when I think about the propaganda. about the people rejecting him.
he takes the train to a different gym - sport helps him to calm his mind.
'the one in my town doesn't allow refugees.', he shrugs.
I feel angry when he tells me about the night they broke into his apartment.
'they kicked in the door and threatened me with guns. I have everything on video and the police said I handled the situation well.'
I'm sharing this, because we need to listen and look deeper.
we need to build bridges instead of walls.
practice compassion instead of hate.
we need to understand instead of assume.
humans like him are flowers trying to bloom in the desert and we should help them on this path 🌼

those whom we chase are not ours to hold.

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