Yesterday we celebrated my clubs 10th anniversary. It was nice to watch old pictures of my team members and to see how they fenced back in the days. You could really see the development In HEMA during the last decade just by looking at pictures and old videos. It happened a lot during the years I’ve been a member, and that is not particularly long at all – in November I’ve been doing hema for 3 years. Before going to the anniversary party I was thinking about holding a speech, but I didn’t. I wasn’t prepared, the thought crossed my mind a bit too late. That is the reason why I wanted to write this text. So many thoughts came to me, and I feel that it’s important for me to share this thoughts with you.

The first thought that came to my mind was: Where was I ten years ago?



I was 19 years old. Had just finished school.

I didn’t know what I wanted at all, I had a very hard time seeing the future in front of me. If someone had told med then: Ten years from now, you will be doing martial arts with swords. And! You will be pretty good at it also.

Oh my god. I would have laughed them straight in the face. Me? Doing martial arts? No fucking way! With swords? You gotta be kidding me!

I am no one, not good at anything. Especially not at martial arts, I can barely take instructions on choreography doing theatre!

That what was I was doing at the time, theatre. It took all of my time, rehearsing, rehearsing. That year, 2007, I played a role in Shakespeare’s “A midsummer night’s dream” in the summer.

I’m the one in the back, wearing that multicolored vest





That was also the year my theatre group started to rent a local that we could have as our own, that was a big step for us. I think I was in three or four plays that year.

The years went on, still was into this theatre making. I loved every minute of it. It was my own bubble, my escape from reality. I had a hard time being a part of the society, I had a hard time finding myself and fitting in. Theatre was the perfect world for me to be in, it was almost like a drug. I never stopped, just wanting more. People still talks about a particular scene I’ve made during 2009, I played a five-year old. Today I have a hard time understanding that I really made all those things. Who would have thought that the shy girl from school could be able to stand on a stage like that? Not me, not anyone. But I did.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3mJ3G7BSluU&t=3s

Me playing the five-year old. It’s on Swedish ;)



The thing is, I never had an interest in playing theatre before I started doing it. I came into theatre because of my sister. She had a role in a play 2004, the year after they wanted her in another role. She didn’t want it, they asked me instead since we were related. I thought, sure. Why not?

I did it, I got a role as a maiden named Lotta who had a little brother named August. We sang together at the stage. Looking at that video today is loads of fun, I am so tense! I’m saying my lines, but that is also it. What a difference just a few years later, it’s almost like I turned into someone else.





Me in my first play 2005.

I did a lot of stuff, sure. But I felt lost in an everyday manner. I had friends, was productive and tons of energy. At least it looked that way. I still had days and periods I didn’t feel at home at all. That feeling of not fitting in was always hanging over me, I felt like I was in the way at my parents. Almost like they didn’t want me there at all. I worked at my dad’s friend’s place, washing chicken stables and also helping them picking all the chickens up when it was time for them to go to slaughter. Those days when I got home from washing the stables I was filled with birds spilling all over me. It got stuck in my hair and my clothes. I did this a couple of times in every month. We also helped other farmers sending their chickens to slaughter working night shifts. Not a glamorous job at all. Coming home all tired and covered in dust every time. I worked hard, like I always have.

One day I got a phone call from another farmer who needed someone who could wash their stables, they had a pig farm.

I went there, washed some of their stables and then I got stuck there for 2 years or so. Swords nowhere to be seen. If you don’t count a pitchfork for a sword ;).



Somewhere in between those years my mum kicked me out from home. Leading me to making stupid decisions. I leant my sister’s apartment for a while, I was 21 at this time, felt like shit. I was unaccepted, unwanted and in my own eyes not worth the shoes I was walking in. I didn’t care anymore, I just wanted to get away from everything. I started to chat with a guy over the internet. We decided to meet on a date. And so we did.

I’ve met him in the city, Örebro, and I remember I thought: No, not my type. But what the hell, I don’t care. I just want to get out of my situation.

We started to see each other more.

My lack of self-respect made me start a relationship with this guy, even though I didn’t even like him. I couldn’t get anything better anyhow, I thought to myself. I was way out of line, I had shut myself down.

I decided to move to him in Eskilstuna on a very short notice. That wasn’t especially smart of me, but I was in a crisis. So much going on inside of me. Thinking: “Things can’t be worse than they already are”.

Never think that way. Things can always be worse.

They did.



When I moved in I started to notice strange things. For example, I was there and put some clothes there one weekend. The next time I showed up (this was before I actually moved in but still) the TV and the lamp in the bedroom was missing. And some other things to. I asked him: Where are these things?

- They are, gone.

Me: But, how? A TV can’t just disappear.

- It did!

I had to push him, he told me after a while that it was his ex who came by to pick her things up.

We talked through it, I accepted it. But still thought it was a bit weird.. My guts told me that this was bad shit going on but I held it to my senses. I pushed that feeling away trying to not think about it.

A month later he received this message from her, saying that we had to move out. Then I realized that the apartment was hers, not his.

God. What a mess.

It was me paying the rent and all the bills from my savings.

He didn’t do a shit.



We moved out.

Lived at his friend for a while.

I managed to get another apartment.

We moved in there.

Lived there for a month or so, then he started to act really badly. I’ve seen tendencies to this before, him having this anger issues smashing things into walls, hitting his hand in tables and stuffs for what seemed to be no reason at all. I was always afraid for something to happen.

My money started to run out.

I was going home for a week to work, just some days before that he became so mad at me for hanging the laundry in the wrong manner.

His eyes were all black.

I ran into the bedroom when he became aggressive. I closed the door, and I could see the laundry basket that were made out of plastic, coming at the door through the air. I shut the door and heard a bang.

I went down behind the bed. Scared as hell, was this the last minutes of my life?

He came in. Screaming.

Throwing something at me.

Went out.

I was shaking.

I could hear him watching TV.

I told myself I had to do something, just anything. I went out in the hall and into the kitchen. I started to make the dishes. I cried. He heard me. Still angry. He yelled: SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!

I couldn’t handle it anymore. I sat down at the floor, managed to crawl in beneath the dishing bench. I sat there in this hole mad for a dishwasher.

I never felt so lonely and scared in my entire life.

He came out after a while. Calm.

He told me in a calm manner: I realized something, we don’t need a laundry basket.

I was out of my mind. What the fuck was he saying?!

I told him he was a lunatic, he just nod against me. “Yes I know, but we don’t need a laundry basket”

Oh my god. This human being was a special kind of human in the bad way.



I got home, worked for a week. Hell break loose, he making weird stuff that he couldn’t afford. Being out with his gang, buying them drinks for money he didn’t have. I was pissed.

When I finally got home after some troubles along the way (long story). I come into my apartment together with a friend. He is stoned.

Starts to yell at us.

Getting pissed.

He getting those dark eyes again.

I can’t really say what happened after that.

I know he got out and hit both me and my friend, and that we managed to get him back in the apartment and run away to call the police.



I told him to never get back. Never.



I moved back to my mum and dad. Lived there for a year or so. Got my own apartment In Hallsberg. After a while I managed to get both a full time job as a personal assistant, I moved to Kristinehamn where I also had a boyfriend. I worked too much, slept too little.

I hit that famous wall.

Quit my job, started to study in Örebro. Told my boyfriend to get lost since we didn’t worked out so well together.

After the first term on the university I got lost, I broke down so much I had a memory loss and started to hallucinate. I only existed one moment at a time, only remember who I was and what connection I had to people. I couldn’t remember things I’ve went through, things that happened were completely gone. I panicked, I freaked out. The time was running away from me, I couldn’t catch it at all. This made me see all the people around me getting old and die in front of me. I saw it, like it was for real. I couldn’t hold myself together. I screamed being so afraid of myself and what was happening to me.



Somehow I managed to get through this, without help. I found the source to what was happening to me and dealt with it.

I had to accept the fact that we are mortal. I was afraid of dying, and it stressed me out that I couldn’t handle time anymore. That it was running away from me.

I found my own way through it and became my own therapist.

I got back to school, never had to take a break from it.

Then I started to suffer from insomnia. Slept like 2-3 hours per night. I still managed to study though, don’t ask me how but I did.

I contacted a friend who helped me with a sleeping program, which helped but it was a hell to get through. I started to sleep normal again. Life became a bit easier. For a while.



Through a friend I met this girl who needed somewhere to stay. She had a baby and a dog. I lived in a big apartment that I couldn’t really afford by myself, I let her move in.

Of course, with my luck, it was a person with problems. She couldn’t handle her child, calling her 9 months baby an idiot. Yelling at her. Lifting her up and screaming at her when she just wanted food. You name it.

I did everything I could to protect this child, I got up and gave her the bottle as soon as I could so the mother wouldn’t be angry at the morning. I took the baby up and walked around with her. She was a very calm child. Didn’t want so much attention. Slept during the nights (when her mother was away atleast) ate, and only wanted attention when she needed food, love or a diaper change. I almost adopted her as my own, when she was with me she was calm.

Everytime her mother went away the baby slept early. As soon as the mother got her hand at the door, the child started to scream in panic.



It was like this for some months.

She lied a lot, it came to me that she had told others that it was her apartment and not mine. And other things.

I decided to kick her out.

My mum told me that this was the girl who had threatened to kill my bigger sister ten years ago.

What the fuck life. What have I done against you? I thought. It felt like I was living in a bad movie. This couldn’t be real.

Anyhow, I kicked her out. She was pissed. I didn’t care.

I started to live alone.

Had a friend that came over every other week, since he worked in the city.

Things were starting to get back to normal, again.



My dad had been feeling badly for a while. Having a hard time working as normal.

One day my mum calls.

I got this bad feeling.

She tells me dad wants to talk with me.

Dad never talked to me in the phone. Never.

She hands over the phone.

Dad tells me he got diagnosed with ALS.

ALS is a disease that cut the nerve signals from your body out. Making you more and more paralyzed.

I sat down. Didn’t know how to handle the situation.

This big black hole started to fill up my body. Sadness.

Frustration. Anger.



During this time a friend of mine who I met through larping, tried to pursue me into this fencing shit. At least, I thought it was shit. I thought he talked about sport fencing, and believe me. He had to talk about it for 1,5 years before I actually tried it out. His finals word that made me go there was: We need more tough girls.

My mind: Tough girls? I AM ONE!

I came by in the middle of a term. Being a bit nervous. What was I getting my ass into?

This was in the middle of November 2014.

I had to meet a whole bunch of new people who already started in the beginner’s course that term. I felt insecure, had to stand in a corner by myself and a trainer. Feeling dumb and silly. I couldn’t even stand correctly in a stanse. Making a fool of my self. But I got stuck in it.



Meanwhile my dad got so bad I dropped out of university to work for him as a personal assistant. I helped my dad with stuff that is normal for other people. I had to help him eat, help him to the toilet and so on. In the end he got moved to a home for old people who can’t take care of themselves.



I did my best at training. I got new friends there, and bruises. A lot of them.

I started to compete just 6-7 months after I started, getting my head into it.



My dad got more and more ill.

I couldn’t handle it. I got sick from seeing it.

The last three months of his life I wasn’t there. I couldn’t anymore, it hurt me so bad seeing my dad becoming a wreck. Not being able to do anything at all, he was shutting down more and more. By that time I was ill myself. Couldn’t go out the door. Most of the days I laid in bed doing nothing at all. Tried to go out, got a panic attack from it. At the worst I had 5-6 panic attacks every day. I was a mess.



I didn’t give in though. Every day I went to training. Refusing to give in for anxiety and depression. Some days that was the only thing I managed to do. I got up and got out.

How hard it felt, I didn’t care. I got there. That was the only thing that mattered to me.

Training, with swords.

If it wasn’t for my trainer, Carl, I wouldn’t have continued at all. But somehow he made me got my ass up and go there. Every. Single. Time. Not like he forced me to, but he made me want to go there. No matter how bad I felt.

My team members have seen me cry during practice. They have also seen me getting panic attacks both on trainings and on events we’ve been on together.

I sometimes wanted to give up, I still feel the same way today. How much can you handle?

But I never did. They never gave up on me, especially not Carl.

I ain’t going to either, that is the easy way out. But shortcuts making it all much harder in the end. You miss a lot if you take them.



Ten years ago I couldn’t imagine myself being where I am today.

I even had a hard time imagined myself being 29 years old, life didn’t seem to be for people like me. But here I am.

Having a job which I’m good at.

Having a lot of experience in acting.

Being one of the greatest women in Swedish HEMA fighting (hard to believe, I know. But the facts says so).

Last, but the most important; having a big bunch of friends who been following me through those years, they are my family and I love every single one of them.



Now I am actually looking forward to the next ten years in life, I didn’t back then.



Never give up.



xoxo

Lotta



