Tag: mental-health

  • POV: You Connected the Dots

    Maybe you’ve been there. Emotional spikes. Anxiety. Nervous system doing the cha-cha. Impatience. Clinging. Non-linear AF. Highs, lows, instability. Here’s the thing – that’s not how we’re meant to live. Call it mid-20s growth, call it planets doing whatever since 2023, call it having a twin flame connection according to the internet that I don’t buy into, call it the Wood Snake shedding layers whatever – I’ve had my fair share of consciousness stretching, ego bruising, skin-shedding, and soul-level upgrades. And finally… I connected the dots.

    Lessons have accelerated since March 2025. Awareness expands. Consciousness stretches. We keep shedding. But now? We’re moving into embodied creation. Trauma-bonds are turning into co-creation. Alignment is speeding up. Old ways stopped working. Words, thoughts, energy: they manifest faster. Karma arrives on time. Some things that used to need years? Now they need days.

    I used to manifest with emotions: want it? It happens. Reject it? It doesn’t. No expectations, no daydreaming allowed. Just feeling, releasing, moving.

    Now, manifestation is calm knowing. Clear directions. Quiet confidence. Following intuition without thinking too much. Moving without expectations. Regulating emotions (yes, even when the tricky). Calm logic, calm mind, calm energy. That’s where the real power lives.

    The mind? It still freaks sometimes. Morpheus has been telling us “the mind has trouble letting go.” since 1999. Dreams hit with uncanny timing. You “predict” things. Maybe you’re great at pattern recognition, maybe time operates differently for you than it does for some others. Reality aligns, bends, shifts. Universe listens like your phone algorithm listening to you at 2 a.m. You can’t help but question the whole thing. 

    “Ignorance is bliss,” I’ve been hearing more and more. Cypher said it too, but we can’t go back. We can’t unsee. We can’t unlearn. I’ve had my Cypher phase too. After a series of ego bruising, I accepted. So… just shrug. Smile. “Fine, whatever.” And then: have some fun.

    I’m in that phase now: fun + co-creation + fire containment. Fire Horse energy blazing. Planet transits doing their thing. I feel the shifts first (yes, I’m quick). Others will catch up eventually. They always do.

    Until then? I’m living. Creating. Laughing. Moving with energy I can hold. Fire contained. Power activated. Queen of Wands mode: ON.

    Happy living. Happy fire. Happy manifesting.

    And oh… One more thing. Your mind wants to figure it all out. Wants to control. Wants to be sure. Let it go. And just live.

  • The Day I Decided to Become an Asshole

    (A Love Letter to Boundaries)

    herbal tea in my favorite starry cup I re-found in a different location because things you once loved have a way of finding you.

    You know those ridiculously empathetic people who feel other people’s emotions like they accidentally subscribed to their internal newsletter?

    Hi. Yes. That’s me.

    There I was. In my room. Crying. Heartbreak-level crying. Soul-ripping, cinematic grief. Over images of his father, a man I have never met, by the way. I don’t even know the outcome of the situation. For all I know, everything could be completely fine.

    But my nervous system? Oscar-worthy performance.

    And here’s the plot twist: this is for someone who, if roles were reversed, would probably emotionally evacuate the continent. I’ve had my moments – the kind where you quietly fall apart – and he was nowhere to be found. I trust my intuition. I really do. But sometimes I have to ask: who exactly is my intuition working for? Me? Him? The plot? The jury is still out.

    So naturally, mid-cry, I thought: You know what? I’m done. I’m becoming an asshole. No sympathy. No empathy. Emotional firewall installed. Sponge mode deactivated.

    Because I have been absorbing environments and people since birth. I used to soak up entire rooms. Thankfully, I’ve stopped downloading random strangers’ emotional weather. Growth. Maturity. Boundaries.

    But that one guy? My antenna is apparently wired directly to his satellite. Premium subscription. No cancellation option, or maybe I need to speak to the customer service and demand cancellation like it’s Adobe.  

    And I’ve been told, repeatedly, that one of my “soul lessons” is stronger boundaries. To harden up. To become, essentially, hard cheese. While he, apparently, is meant to soften, become one of those softer cheeses with inedible rinds. 

    Beautiful polarity theory. Love that for us.

    But then why am I over here processing what I think might be his emotions like I’m the unpaid intern of his subconscious?

    Here’s what I realized though, mid cry over a man I haven’t even met, getting deeply affected:

    Even if you absorb something, your life keeps moving. After the crying session? I washed my face. Met my date who was back earlier than expected. Met a friend after. Laughed. Ate. Chilled. Slept peacefully. The world did not collapse because I felt too much. Thanks to an injury I did not ask for last year for teaching me how to process emotions rather than outrunning them.  

    And that’s the part nobody tells you about being sensitive: You’re not fragile. You’re permeable. And permeability without boundaries feels like suffering.

    But permeability with boundaries? That’s power. So no, I’m not actually becoming an asshole. I’m becoming contained. There’s a difference.

    Boundaries aren’t about shutting down empathy. They’re about choosing when to open the door. Not every signal deserves entry. Not every emotional wave needs to be ridden. Some of them can pass like weather.

    And yes, thank God for breathwork. For techniques that bring you back into your own body. Back into sovereignty. Back into “this is mine, that is not.” Thanks to an amazing man who taught me that simple technique.  

    Because here’s the real moral of the story: Feeling someone else’s emotions doesn’t mean you’re responsible for them. And absorbing pain doesn’t make you spiritually advanced. It just makes you tired.

    So I’m keeping the empathy. But I’m installing better filters. Hard cheese energy. With a soft center, selectively accessed. 

    And honestly? That feels a lot healthier than becoming an asshole, even though I’d love to be one, even for a day or two. 

  • Fire, But Make It Contained

    I once read somewhere: fire held in a container becomes power. Fire chased becomes chaos. Fire suppressed becomes obsession.

    And I felt personally attacked. Because if there is one thing I know how to do, it’s generate fire.

    Not the cute candle-on-a-windowsill kind. I’m talking full internal bonfire. The kind that is visible in your eyes. Yes. That fire.

    And here’s the inconvenient truth: the fire is back. After coming into contact with someone specific, obviously, because how else would my next step be embodied? I got used to it working the way it is. It’s better when you accept it. 

    Now before you roll your eyes, relax. I am not outside anyone’s apartment with a mixtape and a dream. Growth has occurred. We are evolved. We have learned. We are hydrated.

    But the fire? Oh, she’s alive. Let’s talk about what this actually is.

    Fire is life force. Creation energy. Sexual energy. The thing that makes you want to build, touch, write, dance, risk, confess, expand. It’s the pulse behind every great love story and every terrible decision you made at 2 a.m.

    Fire is not the problem. Our relationship to it is. Because here’s what I’ve learned the hard way:

    When you chase fire, it becomes chaos. You text too much. You overanalyze eye contact. You start mistaking adrenaline for destiny. You confuse obsession with intuition. You run toward the flame like a moth with WiFi and trauma.

    When you suppress fire? Oh, that’s worse. You pretend you’re above it. “I’m focused on myself.” “I don’t even care.” “I am better off alone.” Meanwhile life is throwing reminders at your face like bricks. His ghost is everywhere you are. 

    Suppressed fire doesn’t disappear. It turns into obsession. It leaks sideways. It shows up in dreams. In playlists. You can’t spiritual-bypass chemistry. Trust me, I’ve tried.

    But when you hold fire? Contained. Grounded. Directed. That’s power.

    That’s when the energy doesn’t spill out chasing someone: it builds something. You take that heat and you pour it into your body. Your art. Your discipline. Your boundaries. You flirt, yes. But you don’t fold. You feel the desire, but you don’t abandon yourself to it. You let it burn: inside a fireplace, not a forest.

    And here’s the plot twist: When you stop chasing the fire and start containing it, it gets stronger. Cleaner. Less frantic. More magnetic.

    It’s not “I need you.” It’s “I desire you. I can live without you. And I desire myself even more.”

    That’s different. Because fire in a container doesn’t beg. It radiates. So yes, I have the fire again.

    But this time I’m not throwing myself into it like it’s the only source of warmth in the universe. I am the source. He is a spark. Big difference.

    And maybe that’s the grown-woman plotline nobody tells you about. You don’t lose your fire when you heal. You just stop burning your own house down with it.

    And honestly? That’s hot.

    If you suddenly feel this kind of fire rising – maybe because Venus is swimming through Pisces being all romantic and unhinged, and Aries is doing what Aries does (lighting matches just to see what happens) – don’t panic. Channel it.

    I made a playlist specifically for this. To feel it. Move it. Sweat it out. Transmit it into your hips. Without suppressing, without chasing. Just power, in a very well-built container. Check it out on Spotify. 

  • The Art of Being Grounded

    (Or: Why I Can’t Create Anything If My Nervous System Is in the Stratosphere)

    I came back from an 8-day trip a different person. Not in a “sold all my belongings and joined a commune” way. More like… my body quietly changed the locks and informed my brain it will be operating under new management.

    The trip itself was basically a soft-launch wellness retreat I did not plan but deeply benefited from: three therme visits, saunas, cold dips in two Alpine rivers and two Alpine lakes, breathwork, herbal teas, excellent Swiss food, and good people with good energy. Just vibes and oxygen. 

    And somethings just… Clicked.

    For almost a year, I hadn’t really wanted alcohol or meat. But I kept consuming both because, you know… society. I like beer. I enjoy a Negroni in Milano. Some of my past Negroni decisions were, frankly, character-building. But on this trip, watching someone I’d never expect casually choose alcohol-free beer did something. Suddenly my occasional beers and cocktails felt… unnecessary. Irrelevant. Pointless.

    Same with meat. I spent a week around vegetarians who cooked really well. When I tried meat again, my body rejected it like a bad situationship. Same products I’d eaten for years: suddenly – no thank you. So I bought the vegetables. The fruits. My mother is thrilled. Balance has been restored.

    Here’s the thing though, this isn’t really about food or drinks. It’s about grounding. It’s about self-love. Clean eating signals nourishment, love, being taken care of to the body. And sweetie… Self-love is where it all begins. The sweet spot where you are recharged, balanced, held steady by yourself.

    I feel a shift in the air. Call it planetary transits, the Wood Snake shedding its skin, the Fire Horse warming up, or just collective nervous system fatigue. Or spring finally getting a little closer after a dead winter. Whatever language you prefer, something is moving. And my body wants to prepare. To get stronger. To move. To be able to hold what’s coming instead of dissociating through it.

    Which brings me to the real point of this post (finally, hello): You cannot stay in creator mode if your body is ungrounded. But you also cannot skip the observer mode that teaches you what you’re meant to create.

    For a long time, I was observing. Learning. Watching patterns: mine, others’, especially the ones mirrored back to me by people I love. And here’s the uncomfortable truth: you cannot create for someone else. You cannot love someone into alignment. You cannot do the work on their behalf, no matter how spiritually poetic and romantic that sounds to a virgo.

    Trust me. I tried. So when my hands were tied externally, I turned inward. Not necessarily dramatically like packing my bags and leaving for Bali, but in a day-to-day, simple and practical one.

    For me it now looks like Ecstatic dance to feel my body, beats that move the hips (science will back me up on this), slow evenings with candles, deep relaxation playlists, oils, and ambient lighting, breath-work and meditation before bed, root vegetables, mushrooms (yes, the kind they sell in the grocery store), red, orange, and yellow foods, less coffee, more herbal tea, and the usual balance board-yoga flow, workouts, skateboarding, hiking, cold plunges, spas, connecting to nature in every chance I get.  

    I made a new playlist with beats that hit the sweet spot, the kind that get your fire moving, feel a little ecstatic, and lift you without asking too many questions. They hit deep and raise the mood. I don’t know about you, but if I had any blockages down there or was feeling low… this playlist would absolutely be my go-to lifesaver.

    Basically: things that tell the body “you are safe, you are here, you can land now.”

    And from that place, creation becomes possible. Not as a magic trick, but as a side effect. The more stable you are, the calmer the mind gets, the flatter the emotional spikes become, and the stronger your energetic field – and emotional boundaries – feel. The more aligned you are with yourself. And that’s the point. Okay, maybe not the whole point… but it’s definitely somewhere past the chaos and well into the good part.

    I know it’s been only two days since I got back from those eight days that felt like eight months. And honestly? Time has been doing parkour since March last year: it has moved like it’s on fast-forward whenever I actually do the work. December and January felt normal. February immediately said “no” and accelerated again. Apparently, when you’re aligned, time stops pretending.

    So if you’re stuck creatively, emotionally, spiritually: before asking what you should do next, ask something simpler: Is my body grounded enough to hold what I’m trying to create? 

  • Balance Isn’t Optional

    I’ve lived long enough to notice one undeniable rule of this galaxy: balance is not optional. It’s not a suggestion. It’s not a vibe. It’s the law.

    Look around. The planet is a perfectly choreographed group project: sun and moon, tides, seasons, ecosystems that somehow work without Google Calendar. Whether you call it God, the Universe, Divine Masculine and Feminine energy holding hands in the sky, or just very impressive physics: the theme is the same. Harmony. Balance. Checks and balances everywhere.

    So… why would humans be the exception?

    We’re literally the only species that looks at balance and goes, “No, I think I’ll fight this.” We resist, control, dominate, argue, exhaust ourselves, and behave like there’s a backup planet waiting for us once we ruin this one. (There isn’t. Even if you believe in aliens. You’re still here. On Earth. Congratulations. Earth school is in session.)

    But let’s zoom in, because we’re not here to fix the world today. We’re here to talk about balance in our tiny, dramatic, salt-speck lives.

    Here’s what I’ve noticed: life runs in cycles, and they come in pairs. For every isolated phase, there’s a social one. For every grind-and-suffer era, there’s an ease-and-flow era. For every loss of something unaligned, there’s a replacement that actually fits. For every “what the hell was that,” there’s a quiet win that sneaks in later.

    Nothing is random. Annoying? Yes. Random? No.

    We don’t actually own anything: not people, not outcomes, not moments. We’re just visiting this exact point in time, which somehow exists alongside the past and the future like a cosmic multitasking queen. Life is a sequence of lessons, tests, and occasional rewards (sprinkled in just enough to keep us from fully losing our minds), and of course reaching the sweet spot in alignment that our spoken words and thoughts start manifesting in reality without sitting on HR’s desk for approval for ages.

    And life has preferences. It loves emotional regulation. It loves when we feel things instead of suppressing them. It loves release, letting go, trust, faith. It loves when we stop trying to micromanage the universe like we’re its unpaid intern.

    Which brings me to the real question: why force anything?

    Why contort yourself into alignment with something that clearly isn’t aligned with you? Why stay quiet when speaking up would clarify everything? Why bend yourself into shapes your soul never agreed to, instead of trusting that what’s not meant for you will be replaced (cleanly, calmly) by what is?

    Boldness, I’ve learned, isn’t recklessness. It’s clarity with a backbone.

    Life is weird. We’re souls having a human experience, and let’s be honest, some of us read the instructions upside down. While most people arrived knowing how to be human, some of us had to learn the basics late: Oh. I have a body. I live here. I’m not meant to float away at the first inconvenience.

    So lately, I’ve been choosing boldness. Not the loud kind, the grounded kind. The kind that isn’t afraid to lose, because it knows it won’t lose what’s meant for it. And if another test cycle shows up? Fine. I plan to pass it this time, not by suffering harder, but by integrating what I already learned.

    Balance always collects its dues. The only real choice we have is whether we cooperate… or exhaust ourselves pretending we know better than the laws of this place we live in. 

    Or perhaps we just need more Libras who have awareness to save the world.

  • Love is Like Jumping into the River and Surrendering to the Current

    Love is often described as a leap: a jump, a plunge, a cinematic moment where someone throws caution (and apparently their nervous system) to the wind. But that metaphor only works for people who have never hit the riverbed at full speed. For the rest of us, the ones who loved deeply and had to swim back to shore alone with a couple of broken bones after almost drowning… Love doesn’t look like jumping anymore. It just looks like water. And a quick internal risk assessment.

    After emotional trauma, most people don’t become cold, we become careful. The desire to love is still there, alive and well, occasionally even dramatic. What’s gone is the ability to dive in without checking the depth, the current, and whether the other person is actually planning to jump too… or just standing on dry land… or cutting the ladders to trap you in.

    Dating after trauma creates a strange paradox. On paper, everything looks good. The connection is easy. The conversation flows. No red flags. No chaos. No emotional whiplash. And yet, internally, there’s a full-time analyst clocking every pause, every delayed reply, every “hey” that feels slightly too neutral for comfort. Not because something is wrong, but because experience has taught the nervous system that danger is often quiet and well-dressed.

    This is where the river metaphor becomes useful. Trauma doesn’t make someone afraid of water, it makes us afraid of depth without mutuality. In the past, many people didn’t just jump into love; we jumped alone. We dove in while the other person stayed at the edge, watching. We trusted words that weren’t matched by actions. We swam while the other person floated away. Some of them threw rocks that hit our head. We collapsed under water. They walked away when we drowned. That kind of experience doesn’t just hurt… It rewires how safety is assessed.

    So now, standing knee-deep in something new, the hesitation isn’t about fear. It’s about wanting to see shared movement. About waiting for a signal that this isn’t another solo swim disguised as a duet. About not mistaking intensity for intimacy, or chemistry for emotional availability, lessons that, unfortunately, are usually learned the hard way.

    Modern dating doesn’t help. In a world of delayed replies, ambiguous intentions, endless options, and low accountability, the traumatized nervous system has plenty of material to work with. Silence becomes a story. Dating apps become a reason not to trust by default. What if I surrender to the current, start floating, and he’s out there dipping his toes in two rivers at once? 

    Healing doesn’t mean forcing trust or pretending not to notice things. It means changing how trust is built. Not through grand declarations or constant reassurance, but through repetition, consistency, and the quiet reliability of someone who shows up again and again. Someone whose actions slowly match their words, without needing a dramatic monologue.

    The goal isn’t to jump again. The goal is to learn how to walk into the river without abandoning yourself. To understand that love doesn’t have to feel like a near-death experience to be real. That safety is attractive. That steadiness is deeply romantic, even if it doesn’t make for a great trauma-bond origin story. I already have one of those. It’s enough for a lifetime, and preferably the next. 

    And maybe that’s the real shift. Not becoming fearless, but becoming self-loyal. Not diving in to prove you can, but waiting until someone holds your hand, walk into the river with you, and float together. One surrendered step at a time. Soft, safe, warm, deliberate, and consistent. 

  • Cold Exposure, Nervous Systems & Why I Voluntarily Freeze for Fun

    There is a very specific cosmic joke reserved for people who enjoy discomfort. In my case, it’s called cold water immersion or going out undressed in freezing temperatures to feel the icy air nibble on my skin. While normal people are inside sipping tea at -4°C, I went swimming in the Black Sea for fun, and then sipped my herbal tea in my thermos at the beach. 

    There is actual science behind this madness, and no, I didn’t arrive here informed, researched, or wearing a lab coat. I stumbled into it the intuitive way: a few years ago I noticed that cold air and cold water calmed my very fried nervous system almost instantly. That was enough proof for me. 

    Let’s dive into the cold waters now.  

    Your nervous system isn’t weak. It just forgot how badass it is. It basically runs on two modes:Sympathetic (fight, flight, panic, existential dread, “why did I send that text”) and Parasympathetic (rest, digest, calm, actual peace).

    Most of us live permanently in the first one.

    Cold exposure forces a controlled shock. It rips you out of autopilot and drops you straight into regulated survival mode. And when you come out of that icy panic bubble alive, your nervous system goes, “Oh. We survived. Cool. Guess we can relax now.” That’s vagus nerve activation, baby. Emotional regulation, improved stress tolerance, less dramatic reactions to life in general.

    Cold water is basically emotional push-ups. When it hits, your body releases endorphins, norepinephrine, and adrenaline: a chemical cocktail that starts as “this is illegal” and ends as “I can handle literally anything now.” Basically my favorite type of cocktail. Too bad they don’t serve it at regular bars. Who wants to open that type of bar with me? Anyhow, over time, your system remembers this. Future stressors feel smaller because your body knows it survived worse.

    And here’s the important part: emotional regulation isn’t just talk therapy. You can journal until your wrist cramps, but if your body doesn’t know how to handle stress, your nervous system won’t either. Cold exposure yanks you out of your head and into your body. Thought spirals stop. Panic becomes manageable. You’re present instead of catastrophizing your entire existence.

    Cold + conscious breathing is where the bliss happens. Your heart races, your breath spikes, muscles tighten. that’s automatic. But if you slow your breathing instead of panicking, and relax your clenching muscles, you’re literally training your brain to stay calm under pressure. That’s neuroplasticity. Every time you relax enough that you don’t shiver, your nervous system levels up.

    And no, this doesn’t make you emotionally numb. Quite the opposite. It builds emotional resilience. You still feel deeply, you just don’t collapse every time life pokes you with a stick. Perhaps soft core, hard shell in action. Which is one of my favorite phrases.

    Because mental strength isn’t a personality trait. It’s a muscle. And just like any muscle, that can be trained. Cold water is nervous system boot camp. Emotional fastball training. A reminder that you can face discomfort, breathe through it, and come out clearer on the other side.

    In my case, cold exposure has evolved from “mental health experiment” to full-blown personality trait. Somewhere between frozen swims and icy air nibbling at my skin, my brain decided this is how we get dopamine now. Is it an addiction? Possibly. But there are worse addictions than voluntarily freezing yourself to feel alive.

    At this point, I’m just hoping to find equally unhinged humans who think a cute date involves cold water, deep breaths, and laughing hysterically afterward. 

    If that’s wrong, I don’t want to be right.

  • 2025 Ramblings (aka: The Year I Shed My Skin Like a Dramatic Lizard)

    If 2025 had a résumé, it would list intense transformation under “core competencies.” This was the year many of us finally looked at our patterns straight in the face, gained enough emotional XP to level up, unlocked new stages we didn’t ask for, and shed so much metaphorical skin we could’ve built an entirely new person out of it. Honestly, a craft project.

    The fire didn’t just warm us, it burned through illusions, fog, and denial. It cracked shells. It forced rebirth. In my case, it burned down the masks so thoroughly that the version of me I’d locked away years ago finally walked out, blinking in the light, asking for snacks and freedom. I let her out. I chose her. I fell in love with who I am. Best jailbreak I’ve ever staged.

    Which brings me to the million-dollar question we all ask at the end of a year like this: How do we not repeat the same patterns like it’s a cursed Netflix rewatch? How do we know what to leave behind in 2025, and what’s just showing up wearing a fake mustache pretending to be new?

    When something familiar appears again, is it because we haven’t learned the lesson… or because this time we’re being offered the option to simply not engage? Or is it that we are attracting similar situations because we are stuck in the same frequency? How do we know what’s aligned, and what’s not?

    Because, of course, toward the end of the year, few patterns I know all too well resurfaced. Same vibes. Slightly different fonts. More complicated than last time, because they always are. Personal growth apparently comes with upgraded difficulty levels.

    Cue indecisive me, collecting data like a scientist in a lab coat, trying to make a “fully informed decision.” Which is hilarious, because if I’m being honest, I already made the choice a long time ago. Maybe this isn’t a crossroads. Maybe it’s just background noise. Maybe nothing is that deep. Maybe the core lesson has always been the same: choose yourself unapologetically, stop abandoning yourself to fit into situations not meant for you, and trust (annoyingly, patiently) that things are working for you, even when it feels like the universe is freelancing.

    Time will tell. Time. That funny little illusion we all pretend is real while it calmly laughs in non-linear.

    We spend our lives surfing waves of illusion and call it reality. Maybe in 2026, more layers of reality become accessible. Maybe more people stop being afraid of the unknown. Which would make sense, we are living in the age of information, curiosity, and the “wait, that actually makes sense.”

    So here’s to the lessons of 2025. This transformative “9” year. May we leave behind the patterns that truly need to go, and stop labeling everything as “DO NOT REPEAT.” Not all repetition is bad. History itself is repetitive. Humanity is repetitive. Of course our small lives contain echoes. In a world where everything is frequency, we’ll keep attracting similar situations if we keep broadcasting the same signal.

    The trick isn’t forcing new outcomes. It’s shifting the frequency.

    To attract what we want, we first have to know how it feels. Learn it. Tune into it. Practice holding it without panic.

    To attract what’s aligned? That’s the scenic route. Balance. Self-trust. Letting go of control. Responding instead of forcing. Being present. Listening inward instead of outsourcing direction.

    I’m choosing alignment. I’m choosing balance.

    Happy 2026. Let’s try a gentler level this time.

  • Vision Board (or: How the Universe Reads Fine Print)

    Last year, I made a vision board. You know, one of those very intentional, aesthetically curated collages where you casually tell the universe, “No pressure, but this please.” It was stacked: alpine scenery, river swims, Bern, mindful girl energy, techno nights, outdoorsy hobbies, sunshine, maybe even a puppy. Very balanced. Very “I have my life together” coded.

    I didn’t actually hang it on the wall though. Not because I didn’t believe in it, more because I didn’t feel like explaining my long-term soul vision to short-term situations. Which, in hindsight, was already a clue. And frankly, none of those situations lasted long enough to earn a tour of my inner world anyway back in the day when I still gave dating in Italy a shot. It was pointless when the type of guy I know I want belongs to a whole other geography, and linguistic background. 

    Here’s the plot twist: almost everything on that board happened. Plus some surprises that were aligned with what was on the board. Even the puppy my parents ended up adopting because she accidentally ended up on their doorstep turned out to be black and white instead of black and brown, but we have a new puppy. Not magically overnight, not in a neat linear order, but unmistakably so. Except for one thing. The career part. That one sat there looking… vague. Half-hearted. Like a placeholder slide in a presentation you swear you’ll fix later.

    Because while I apparently know exactly what I want in love, lifestyle, geography, energy, rhythm, scenery, temperature, and background soundtrack… But career-wise? Big blinking question mark. Creative fog. “We’ll circle back.”

    Which got me thinking: maybe vision boards aren’t magic wish lists. Maybe they’re mirrors. They don’t create clarity, they respond to it.

    When you’re clear, life moves. When you’re vague, life shrugs and says, “Cool, I’ll improvise, and show you what you want.”

    We don’t attract opportunities by being perfect. We attract them by being honest about what we want. And when we don’t know yet, choosing to figure it out might actually be the first real decision. That choice alone seems to flip a switch. Suddenly paths appear. Detours make sense. Timing reveals itself retroactively.

    The irony? The board was never the point. Clarity was. Alignment was. Frequency was.

    I wasn’t attracting aligned opportunities in areas where I was undecided, and that wasn’t punishment, it was feedback.

    So maybe the real takeaway isn’t “make a better vision board,” but “get clearer with yourself.” And if you’re not there yet, at least be clear about wanting clarity. This little game called life seems to respect that.

    As for the rest? It tends to work itself out. Just not always in the font you expected.

    And honestly, where would the fun be if it did? 

  • The Art of Letting Yourself Go

    Life is too short to care about what other people think of you. I know, because I used to care professionally. Olympic-level caring. I was uptight, perfectionist, deeply allergic to rejection. I curated myself like a museum exhibit: composed, appropriate, quietly impressive. No sudden movements. No visible weirdness. God forbid anyone realized I was… different.

    Then something snapped. Or softened. Or maybe I just got tired.

    Now I smile at strangers in the street. (Yes, this works in Bern. No, do not try this in Milano unless you want to be emotionally audited.) I carry walnuts in my pockets to feed crows and pigeons like some sort of forest witch on an urban commute. I headbang back at a random guy blasting metal at a red light because obviously that was a moment of mutual understanding. I pick up pine tree branches I find on the sidewalk like they’re treasure. I compliment people just because. No agenda. No flirting. No follow-up questionnaire.

    Living in Italy (especially Milano) kind of scrambled my internal GPS. Everything felt loud, performative, sharp-edged. Bern quietly rebooted me to factory settings. Friendly faces. Soft interactions. Compliments that don’t automatically translate to “so when are we sleeping together?” A city that understands the delicate art of balance: nature, people, and chill coexisting without trying too hard.

    And here’s the thing: life is way too short to micromanage how you’re perceived. Whether people “get” you or not. Be honest: do you fully understand yourself every day? Exactly. So why outsource your self-worth?

    It doesn’t matter if someone thinks you’re weird. It doesn’t matter if you make grammar mistakes, mispronounce words in languages that aren’t your own, or occasionally butcher your own language. Nobody is keeping score. Life is not that serious. We’re all enrolled in the same school, taking wildly different courses, on wildly different schedules. Sometimes we share a class. Sometimes we sit next to each other for a while. Why not enjoy recess like we’re still in high school: laughing too loud, being a little ridiculous, not taking ourselves so damn seriously?

    We don’t know how much time we have. Life can change in a split second. One wave, one wrong turn, one unexpected moment. So enjoy it. Even when the waves slam you. Even when your board snaps in half. You crawl back to shore, get a new one, and paddle out again.

    Life is breezy. Life is peachy. Life is actually pretty great. Especially when you stop overthinking it and start living like you’re allowed to exist exactly as you are.