Tag: self-love

  • 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? 

  • Don’t Run From Yourself (You’ll Catch Up Anyway)

    At some point in life, you realize there is no such thing as “the future.” Not in the dramatic psychic hotline sense, but in the mildly inconvenient, existential way. Everything is apparently happening at once, and time is just… how we keep ourselves from panicking.

    Which means the thing you’ve been running toward (or away from) has probably been right there the whole time. Some of us feel things before reality as we perceive catches up. We get called “psychic.” No. We are just tuned into time differently than the average person.

    What we like to label intuition, telepathy, or how did I know that? isn’t a superpower. It’s not witchcraft. It’s not even particularly sexy. It’s just… being tuned in. To yourself. To others you resonate to. To your patterns. To that quiet inner signal that’s been trying to get your attention while you were busy refreshing your phone and questioning every decision you’ve ever made.

    It’s not mind-reading. It’s just frequency recognition. Once you know how something feels: a person, a city, a situation, you can sense it from miles away. Like a radio station. Some frequencies fade. Some don’t. Some stay stubbornly on air like a song you didn’t ask Spotify to play but now somehow know all the lyrics to.

    Have I mastered turning every frequency off? Absolutely not. But I have mastered turning my back. And I mastered not getting swayed away with all the coincidences and reminders that still manage to find me everyday. I mastered not giving an emotional response, other than cracking up once in a while when they get too ridiculous. And honestly, that’s an underrated life skill.  

    The more connected you are to yourself, the less random life feels. Patterns start revealing themselves. Yours. Theirs. Life’s. And yes, awareness can feel a little boring. Like being the only sober person at a party. But it’s also what keeps you from replaying the same emotional storyline with a different cast and a slightly worse ending.

    That’s one of the points life on Earth tries teaching. Not running from yourself. Not outsourcing your direction to fate, tarot cards, exes, or the universe’s customer service department, which in my humble opinion, doesn’t exist the way we wish it would.

    Because when you’re connected to you, you already know where you’re going. And suddenly the people and opportunities that appear make sense. Suddenly you’re less busy forcing outcomes and more comfortable letting timing do its thing.

    Once you start noticing how interconnected everything is: people, places, timing, moods, you notice something else too: alignment is contagious. When you’re aligned with yourself, aligned people show up. Aligned opportunities knock. Aligned chaos waits politely instead of kicking the door in.

    Funny how that works. The moment I stopped obsessing over destiny and started trusting myself (while handing the truly uncontrollable bits over to God), life aligned in ways I never could’ve planned. I wanted the “go with the flow” last year. I got it. Just not in the aesthetic, Pinterest-board way I imagined.

    Turns out clarity doesn’t always arrive loudly. It comes with fires that burn down the masks, storms that blow out the dead skin away, and then it just you on the shoulder and says, Relax. You’ve been on the right path longer than you think. 

  • 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? 

  • Mission: Inner Peace (Now With Extra Sass)

    Nothing whispers “mission accomplished” softer than uniting with your own energy after years of chasing nervous system regulation like it was a limited-edition NFT. Yeah. I said it. Me, myself, and my vibe: finally in alignment. Chill, calm, and absolutely unwilling to outsource my peace ever again.

    And then there’s my creative spark. Oh, the elusive little rascal. Vanished years ago like it was dodging taxes, only to waltz back in a few nights ago with, “Hi, remember me? Let’s doodle.” Not AI-generated, thank you very much. AI could try, but it doesn’t have my brain’s level of chaotic brilliance. My head is basically a Pinterest board for symbolic dreams, very specific snack cravings, mixing things I love (the Aare, fondue and the animals at Dählhölzli) into an artwork. Think an alternate universe Bern where the Aare is flowing fondue, the herbivorous zoo animals have turned into cheese eaters, and they’re having a “fondueschwumm” meanwhile the carnivorous ones are BBQing at Eichholz. Don’t worry they bought the meats from supermarkets, no zoo animals were harmed making these illustrations. Yay my child level absurd creativity is back. 

    So there I am, cozy-ass apartment, candles flickering like tiny, passive-aggressive cheerleaders, fake sunlight doing its best impression of a tropical vacation, playful music playing like it has insider knowledge of my mood swings. I’m drawing. Then I’m sawing wood. Sanding it. Smelling the nostalgia of sawdust from childhood… it’s literally the adult version of playing with Lego, but with a hint of meditative stillness. Maybe I inherited some of my dad’s craftsmanship genes, maybe I’m just happy to have something that doesn’t require Wi-Fi.

    Oh, and yes, I’m on a social-media hiatus. Hermit mode: activated. I posted my illustrations in my stories, called my mom (hi, mom!), that’s it. No notifications. No external stimulation. Just me, my thoughts, and the occasional existential chuckle.

    Because sometimes, hermit mode isn’t “antisocial,” it’s the height of self-love. It’s a soft rebellion against chaos: “I’m too peaceful to scroll. I will eat the Rösti and let my tastebuds dance. I will sip my tea. I will spend time with my plants.”

    In the quietest, softest way, life throws random surges of happiness at me as well. Love. Gratitude. Little nudges that feel like someone sprinkled edible glitter on my aura. It feels… yummy. Like, I-can’t-believe-this-is-real-but-it-is yummy.

    And the icing on the cake? My inner runner and inner chaser finally RSVPed “yes” to the self-love party. No drama, no chasing, no fleeing. The party has one strict dress code: heart-centered vibes only. And the DJ? Yours truly, spinning only tracks approved by my nervous system.

    So here I am. Peaceful, calm, armed with my art, my sawdust, my emergency fondue and chocolate stashes, and a renewed appreciation for the absurdity of being human. No Bern. No cosmic outsourcing. Just me. My vibes. My energy.

    And truly? I’ve entered my “I lived, I healed, and I’m kinda hot about it” era. I’m living proof you can survive full‑body ego extractions, spiritual plot twists that make telenovelas look subtle, dark nights, emotional detoxes, cosmic curveballs, karmic escape rooms, entanglements so confusing they deserved subtitles, identity deaths, resurrection arcs, and whatever the hell you call “healing while inhaling sawdust.”

    And somehow? I came out of it with good skin, working chakras, and a nervous system that no longer files HR complaints about my lifestyle.

    So no, I wasn’t supposed to be a monk. Or the next Buddha!? I’m still me, just healed and regulated. Plus balanced, finally. I’ve been craving balance more than some Libras I know. 

    But here’s the humbling part: I’m fully aware life might drag me into another dark night if there’s more junk to peel off. And that’s fine (optionally I can really live without one.) But right now? I’m enjoying the absolute hell out of this peace.

    Because me (and the pillows that have absorbed several liters of my emotional hydration), we earned this era.

    And I’m unapologetically YAYing to that.

  • Date Yourself

    I couldn’t help but wonder, why do we treat our homes like pit stops instead of sanctuaries?

    In relationships, we crave that can’t-wait-to-see-them energy. We text them on the way home, already imagining the conversations, the cuddles, the snacks. So why don’t we feel the same way about coming home to ourselves?

    Maybe the truth is… most of us don’t actually want to spend time with ourselves. We’ve become the partner who’s “too busy,” who doomscrolls through the silence, who binge-watches Netflix just to avoid ourselves.

    Because if you think about it… your relationship with yourself is a relationship. And much like in any relationship, too much screen time kills the vibe. You can’t exactly build intimacy when you’re both staring at your phones or binging shows, even if “both” just means you and your inner child sitting in the same room while you doomscroll.

    So here’s the little self-love audit no one asked for: If you were dating yourself: how’s that relationship going?

    Do you communicate honestly, or do you ghost your emotions until they show up uninvited at 2 a.m.?

    Do you spend quality time with yourself, or do you just… watch Netflix in silence and actually avoid sitting with yourself?

    Do you cook nice meals for yourself, or are you in a long-term situationship with takeout?

    Do you surprise yourself with gifts just because, or wait for someone else to find you “worth” them?

    Are you consistently loving yourself or do you flake on some days?

    Do you take yourself out, or are you still waiting for company to start living your life?

    Do you choose yourself every single day, know your worth and hold onto your boundaries, or are you neglecting your own heart?

    Do you consciously take some time in your day-to-day to make yourself happy or are you being lazy in your commitment to yourself? 

    If your answer to most of these is “ehhh,” congratulations: you’ve just discovered why you sometimes feel disconnected. You’ve been neglecting you.

    And if you take a look back at your relationships with emotionally unavailable people, you’ll see every mirror they held up to your face. Every time you bent your boundaries, every moment you sold yourself short, every place you were starving for love you hadn’t yet given yourself. The key takeaway? It’s the same every time: choose yourself.

    We spend so much time longing for people who make us feel safe, seen, and at peace, but the truth is, you can build that with yourself. Make your home somewhere you can’t wait to come back to. Make your own energy your favorite company.

    Because at the end of the day, you’re the longest relationship you’ll ever have, and honestly, you’re a catch.

    So light the candles. Put on that playlist. Cook yourself something sexy. And when you walk through your door at the end of the day, I hope you think, “ahh, finally, I’m home and I get to spend time with me.” 

  • Mercury Lemonade (served chilled, with extra chaos)

    November rolled in and, surprise surprise, five planets decided to moonwalk backwards. Mercury included. Because apparently the universe looked at our lives and said, “You know what this needs? A little confusion and emotional déjà vu.”

    I’ve been feeling it since the shadow period, which, by the way, is just cosmic slang for “the pre-party to the main mess.”

    Here’s what Mercury Retrograde really does: It opens the group chat of your past. You’ll get emotional notifications you didn’t subscribe to “Remember this feeling?” “Miss this person?” “Regret that text?” like it’s customer service from your unresolved emotions.

    If you haven’t closed a loop peacefully, Mercury will kindly reopen it like a wound with a Wi-Fi connection. Suddenly, it’s 2024 again, and you’re emotionally reliving scenes you thought were deleted footage.

    But here’s the twist: this isn’t punishment. It’s emotional composting. You’re not backsliding, you’re recycling. You’re being given a cosmic second chance to feel what you couldn’t feel then, and release it this time, for real.

    Eventually, those old memories will lose their emotional charge. They’ll just be… stories. No longer triggers. More like, “Ah yes, that was my character development era.”

    Personally, my retrograde rerun seems to be October–December 2024. Of course it is. The season of my life I still haven’t fully made peace with. I keep thinking, “Ah, I’m healed now.” Then life or some planet say, “Cute. Let’s test that.”

    So here I am again, remixing anger into clarity, chaos into closure. This is my Mercury Lemonade. Sour, slightly bitter, but surprisingly refreshing once you stop resisting the taste.

    So if you’re feeling it too: the emotional flashbacks, the random longing, the texting temptations to get closure from a ghost who didn’t take any accountability: take a deep breath. This isn’t regression. It’s integration. And if you’re feeling angry at yourself for bending over backwards for someone who didn’t deserve it, work on your boundaries, and give yourself that love. Multiply that love, and give it to yourself. Because you deserve it. 

    We’re just learning to sip the lessons life squeezed out of us. 

    Make your home cosier. Reorganize your kitchen. Give yourself a facial. Connect to nature. Go to the sauna. Jump in snow if cold’s your thing. Light your candles, turn on your cosy galaxy lights, play your favorite songs. We’ve got this. 

    Now go feel your feelings. Mercury insists.

  • Can We Really Meet “The One” Before We’re Healed?

    …or are we just falling in love with different versions of our own wounds?

    At first, I thought I had a type.
    You know; emotionally unavailable, mysterious, says things like “I don’t believe in labels,” and somehow ruins me with a smile.
    But after the third version of the same man with a different star sign, I started to ask:
    Is this really my type… or is this my trauma playing dress-up?

    Because the truth is: we attract what we are.
    Not on the surface, not what we look like, or what we post, or even what we say we want.
    We attract from the core wound. From the energy we haven’t healed. From the version of us that still doesn’t fully believe we deserve the love we crave.

    So maybe the reason we keep falling for the same kinds of people isn’t bad luck or bad taste.
    Maybe it’s a mirror.
    Maybe it’s the universe screaming look at yourself.
    Maybe it’s that unresolved need to be chosen by someone who doesn’t know how to choose themselves.

    And here’s the cosmic twist that no one wants to say out loud:
    You might not meet the “right one” until you become the version of yourself who can actually receive them.

    Because soulmates aren’t here to complete us, they’re here to reflect us.
    And if we’re still fragmented, afraid, closed off or secretly addicted to chaos… Guess what we attract?

    Another incomplete mirror.

    So can we meet the one before we’re healed?
    Maybe.
    But chances are, we’ll push them away.
    Or sabotage it.
    Or not even recognize them, because we’re still wired to crave the pain we’re used to.

    Healing isn’t about being perfect.
    It’s about being aware.
    Aware enough to stop blaming everyone else for the ways we keep breaking our own heart.

    So if you keep attracting the same type… pause.
    Ask yourself: What part of me is still choosing this dynamic? What part of me thinks this is love?

    And more importantly… Who do I become when I stop chasing the reflection… and start becoming the source?