It's Always Been You

Chapter 14

December 2021 - Stockholm, Sweden

After our final Champions League group match, it was finally time for the Christmas break, and I was headed home to Sweden, after nearly five months away. I couldn't wait to finally go back, as it had been so long since I experienced a true Swedish December, as last year, the impacts of the pandemic, along with my injury, disrupted it. I was always in a bad mood back then, just grumpy and annoyed every day. After the initial lockdown back in March of 2020, I was ecstatic to return back to playing, and the season with City started off decently, but my season was cut short because of my ACL. Although I was in Sweden, with the fluffy snow and crisp air, I wasn't able to do any physical exercise as I had just gotten surgery, so I couldn't take part in the sledding adventures and snowball fights my families were having. Instead I had to watch from my window, and although they did their best to help me feel included through different ways, I felt helpless, and was so angry that I had to have gotten injured.

I always think about how different my life could be had I not been tackled that October.  The timing of the injury was unfortunate, as I like to think that I was in pretty good form then. I might've still been at City now, I don't really know. That whole period just passes through my memory as a complete blur, and I can see only a few pictures, like frozen snapshots of time. I can only distinctly remember a couple things: the initial injury and how I fell down to the ground screaming. The inside of the ambulance as I was driven to the hospital, the stitches and the scar the surgery left on my knee. A couple of months in England, before flying to Sweden for my rehab. Whenever I think of my time in Sweden recovering, I can remember even less. All I see is my sister sitting solemnly on my bed, comforting me as I cried. Or my phone screen lighting up with messages from Caroline, and how we argued constantly over FaceTime. Lying in my bed in pain as I heard Andreas and Julie watching a football match in the living room. I refused to join them, despite their pestering, and looking back on that Christmas, I treated them so badly. But I was on the edge of breaking down, and I was at the lowest I had been since Farfar, Astrid and my Dad died all those years ago. Towards the beginning of Spring, I can remember admiring the beautiful flowers that had started to grow outside. It reminded me that although they had died during the cold Winter, they were able to flourish again, and for some reason, that filled me with so much motivation. Soon, I was able to get back to playing, just simple training in my garden, nothing too intense, but either way, I was overjoyed. My Mom fed me balls as I took shots into the goal which I had used to practice my whole life, squished into the corner of my small garden. I practiced passing with Andreas and even Farmor (grandmother) helped me practice some dribbling. Picnics and taking long walks down to the nearby fields as summer started to approach, and I was happier, actually feeling an emotion other than sadness. The only thing I distinctly remember was when I was informed that I would be able to go to the Olympics. Andreas lifted me into a massive bear hug, and Julie cheered in happiness for me, and Farmor and Mom instantly started baking an Olympic themed Japanese cake. All the negative emotions that had built up throughout the previous few months completely disappeared, and feelings of hope and excitement replaced them, pushing me to become as best that I could be for the upcoming competition.

I think I posted on Instagram just four times during that time, from October 2020 to July 2021. Just a picture of me just after my surgery, a picture of the  snow covered field I could see outside of my window, a picture of those flowers which had pushed me to persevere, along with a picture of me and my siblings, that had been taken during the barbecue we had for Julie's 21st birthday. We were crowded around a small table and the photo captured a moment of pure joy. As Julie blowed out the candles, her eyes were closed, and she was gripping my hand, making a wish. I was looking at the camera, laughing at the funny way my Mom was singing 'Happy birthday', and Andreas was either looking at Julie or the cake that he had made, but whatever or whoever it was, it was with a look of the upmost admiration. Those four photos showed the different stages that I had gone through. The hope and positivity in my hospital bed, with the caption being along the lines of 'I'll come back stronger.' The comments were filled as well with lovely and supportive messages, but the next winter pic which I uploaded, kind of felt lonely and out of place, especially with the next picture. It was simple, but was completely colourless, all white and black, worn out and tired looking. The flowers were the start of my true comeback, the pinks and reds and yellows almost representing a new beginning, and then the last showed me that true happiness exists, especially with my loved ones. My next post was from our first day of training in Fukuoka, and I loved that I was able to watch my journey to the Olympics in four small pictures, even if I was the only one who truly understood the sequence.