Where Have I been?

Last updated on July 21, 2025

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I feel a lot — sometimes, too much. Too intensely, too close. There are so many things that emotionally challenge me, sometimes draining all my energy. I wish I could just switch it off. Like the TV, when the program gets too loud, too hectic.

Feeling strongly can be a gift. In many ways, it means perceiving small nuances that others might miss.

I am sensitive, yes, and introverted, what a wonderful combination. I can be an extrovert if I choose to be, but not for long. Perhaps this applies to many more people than we think, but our fast-paced lives don’t leave room for it. In the past, the limits imposed by my intense feelings made me uncomfortable; I ignored them and subsequently suffered. Today, I can accept myself and see them as a part of who I am. I am not the problem. I am okay.

We are all different, each of us in a different way, which simultaneously impresses and sometimes challenges me, but unfortunately, repels me often as well.

Being sensitive and feeling empathy go hand-in-hand. Two peas in a pod. I feel compassion.

Confucius — ‘Don’t do unto others what you don’t want done unto you.’

This has meaning to me.

Sensitivity is not a flaw, even if our society often sees it differently. I am not a weakling, quite the opposite. Perhaps we should question sensitive people less and the way we live more. Perhaps it’s our hectic, fast-paced environment that’s actually the problem.

I watch a country changing. It’s my country, and the shift scares me, it makes me sad, and I feel helpless. I watch how the world is changing, and these changes will have consequences. Perhaps not in my lifetime — if I am lucky.

For a while, I was wondering if this ‘new’ world would change me as well, and I have decided that I won’t allow it. I am me — deal with it. I am forced to deal with it as well.

I could write about it, but then who would want to read it? Most people who (still) follow me on my blog need a break from the harshness of reality as well. Blogging is a way to get away. Diving into the blogging world allows us to tune out the noises around us.

“Go away, politics!” “Go away, cruelty!” “Go away, hatred!” “Go away, whatever bothers us!”

Sometimes I need a break, distance, peace, and quiet. I have to withdraw to get my directions.

I needed a break and I took it. I hiked alone, told our dog Vader that he had to stay at home. It’s too warm in the mornings already. Actually, is a weird summer. It either rains — and I mean pouring — or it’s very hot and muggy.

Besides sadness and worries, I also have this endless laughter inside me. It needs to come out. I don’t want to lose my sillyness. What would I be without it?

We all cope somehow. Some drink to relax, others eat themselves happy. Drugs, pot, and prescription pills seem to do the trick for some. None of this works for me. I don’t want to numb myself. I love to live my feelings – all of them.

I did what Grandma told me a long time ago: “Walk it off!”

Hiking alone. Walking alone. It was very enjoyable. I even thought about my blog, so many great posts came to my mind. All non-political. Non-religious. I still want to share so much, but not all. I want to travel on my blog, in a virtual plane, taking my readers with me when I revisit the places I have seen — the places I love.

What else did I do besides walking and working? I (almost) finished my book. Now what? I have to gut it by around 30,000 words and find an editor. Or offer it to agents, or perhaps just print one copy for me and let it rest in my drawer.

If there is a book, will it be one book or two? First part “Losing it all (with dogs)” the second part “Leaving rock bottom (with dogs).”

Finding an agent? I assume they are somewhere lined up, just waiting for me and our story. 🙂 And how would I introduce the book (I have been told that’s what I needed to do). A bait-text to get an agent to read more.

This is the true story of two people in love, four dogs, and a bunch of sausages. A story about a friend and friendship, money and love – for richer and poorer. How we, an average couple, went from a two-story house to being houseless/homeless, and how we took a gamble for a better future and risked it all. An unusual love story, with love not just for each other but also for our dogs. The story about a letter to the scum-of-the-earth, and a set of pearls that took care of fleas. A story full of small miracles, tears and laughter, and learning lessons given by life.

Self-publishing. I know nothing about it. One could learn, but it sounds very complicated. Nevertheless, at least now I can say I almost wrote a book.

Tomorrow, Monday, the 21st of July, I will restart living my normal crazy life. Unchanged, stubbornly optimistic as always, onward we go.