Last weekend I crashed a car. And I'm proud of myself.

Just to clarify: I am not proud of myself because I crashed a car. This was not a rebellion or a political statement of some kind. It was really nothing but stupid as hell.

I spent 4 days in another German city to take part in a book fair and hold an evening event. Two hours before the big show, I picked up the dancers and musicians at the train station and drove them to the location they were performing at. When I attempted to park, I crashed my bosses car right into a stone pillar. Yes, there were several people in the car who talked all at ones. There were suitcases piled up to the roof. I was stressed out. But most of all I was incredibly stupid and apparently at least partly blind.

You know what they say: When something bad happens, there are two options: Fight or Flight. My instinct told me to run away, move to Scandinavia and never talk to anyone from my company ever again. I wanted to leave it all behind so badly. But I was standing right in front of the concert hall where an event I had organised was taking place two hours later. This was my responsibility. A lot of people depended on wether I'll throw it all away right then and there or I'll be a grown up and keep on going.

I called my boss and explained her what happened. Then I parked the car in a parking garage. Fortunately it was still working and the damage was only cosmetical, but it was still a huge damage. After the car was parked and my boss informed, I called my boyfriend mumbling unintelligible sentences and crying for 5 minutes straigtht. He told me to calm down and keep going with the event preparation because there was no way I could fix the car. So I said "okay" about 15 times, got some napkins from a bakery, wiped my tears away and carried on.

I literally carried on. I carried a big box with hundred books (among them photography books which are heavy as hell) on a 15 minute walk from the parking garage to the event location. At least I tried to. After a couple of minutes, I was so desperate, I yelled at a guy walking in front of me and begged him to help me. He helped me because there are still some decent people in this world.

I build a selling table with my hundred books on it, changed my clothes, talked with the technician. I read several text passages during the show, accompagnied by a cello player. All my friends were there, even my Mum was there. And though all hell broke loose before the show, I can still say, that the show was a success.

So no, I am not proud of myself because I am apparently too stupid to drive. But I am proud of myself because I didn't follow my instinct and fled. I chose to fight instead. I went on going though I was freaking out inside. And this is the only reason I am still standing.