Turtle

When I was a child, we had a canary bird. I wrote its story years ago, but I won’t go into that now. After three years, the bird died, and I experienced a kind of trauma. After years of travel, fear, learning, and self-discovery, I realized I had what is called “attachment trauma” or “injury and anxiety of attachment.” When a child suddenly loses an emotional bond with someone or something, the brain learns that “things we love disappear,” and this creates attachment anxiety. It makes a person search for things that “never leave” or “always stay” throughout life.

This is not something I easily discovered about myself. The anxiety has always been with me, in everything. Since then, I have been drawn to things that last forever, to people and animals that seem permanent. For example, I’ve always liked German tools and everything that doesn’t easily break or fade away. It’s not that I don’t get attached now, but forming attachments has never been out of my control. For instance, I’m attached to my homeland, something constant that doesn’t cause me anxiety.

Over time, when meeting animals and people, I learned to manage attachment in my own way. The turtle, with its hard shell and long life, became my favorite animal since childhood. Many animals have come into my life, and it was always hard for me when they left. I’ve had turtles that I wished would stay. Seeing turtles excites me, it feels like meeting a creature that will probably live longer than I do. It gives me comfort, knowing that if I grow attached, I won’t lose it soon.

Without realizing it, I was always searching for turtles. I didn’t plan to have a new pet, but most of the turtles I met were older, or had cracked shells. I had never met a small, healthy turtle that I could raise myself. Until a few days ago, when I was weeding a garden and suddenly found a very tiny turtle hidden among the plants. It was a baby turtle, and I felt like I had just destroyed its shelter.

I happily played with it, without hurting it, without any plan to keep it. After a few minutes, I started thinking, maybe this is the one I should take care of? I thought about everything, even how I would travel with it on planes, about its species, its home, its food, and the temperature it needs. I still couldn’t decide whether to keep it or not. So I left it in a pot that looked like its natural home.

The second day felt like a repeat of the first, another hard day of decision-making that led nowhere. But my thoughts grew deeper, as if “deciding about the turtle” had become one of my main tasks. I told myself, this is exactly what you have been looking for since childhood. My meeting with my unconscious was new and fascinating, one of those feelings that words can’t describe. I thought I shouldn’t keep it, but when I checked on it and held it, I changed my mind again. It felt like, no, this is the one.

On the third day, I gave myself the final chance to decide. I didn’t want to keep it waiting any longer in that small pot. Looking at its tiny claws, I thought, maybe every cell in its body is eager to explore nature. I felt small, thinking, what if we were the same size, and it was deciding whether to keep me or not, how would I feel? Would that be fair? I thought I would rather live freely in wide nature, not in a small tank or bowl. I realized that my childhood desires, fossilized in my mind, shouldn’t decide for another living being with equal rights.

In those final moments, the turtle and I shared a strange and beautiful time together. I wanted it to be happy with this encounter too, so I chose some beautiful spots in the forest to take pictures. Now I have the photos, and it is free in nature to find its own path. I have no regret about my decision. I learned that some moments in life must be experienced so that we can separate our unconscious memories and childhood habits from the right choices. Now I think that attachment may not be fully under my control, maybe it is something unavoidable, something that cannot be chosen.