Hard to move, hard to friction

Cannot move easily. Will probably never will. Don’t have this feature. Best thing will be to accept it.

Move as in – go out, meet people, camping, holiday, go out to buy something, fly abroad, move to live in a new city or country.

I can move in my head. I can move in the street when it’s super early before the sun comes up, I can read, I can sit without doing anything for a crazy amount of time.

I don’t want external accountability. Don’t make me. I know after moving I will feel better. I know going out is good for you. I know airing thoughts is also good for you. I know it’s not good to be too much in your own head. When you go out the nature makes you calm, puts things in perspective. Being in motion circulates your blood, moves your muscles. Looking at the sky is calming and beautiful. Being around people that are in good energy is good for you. Being around people that care for you is good. Just talking with a friend can make things better. Changing atmosphere makes you see things you stopped seeing.

Working at doing it makes me tired. I will move very little, at my own pace. You will not understand it, probably I will also not. It is just like that.

Up is just not down – 50/40/10

Returned to my all time melancholic playlist, Linkin Park acoustic live songs.

I spent countless hours with those songs. Soaking in the sensitivity and sadness, of the songs and mine. It’s been a long time since I dove into this playlist.

It so easy to go down.

50% of the time working on not going down.

40% being somewhat down or scared.

10% not down.

Not down is being not heavy. The chest is not hurting. You don’t want to run. You just Are. I’m just Am. That’s it.

50/40/10. That’s what I have.

Introversion and Melancholy: A Personal Reflection

Susan’s book on introverts gave me words to describe how I feel and see the world.

Years of being told what I’m doing wrong, and with this book I felt seen.

There’s a part explaining how introversion is a strength, or has many strengths. Well, this part never really landed with me, it still feels like a liability. At least I better know how to cope with it.

Susan’s book on melancholies had a different impact on me. Not from a book review point of view, but from a personal view. Being melancholy is a bigger liability than introversion. It’s starting from minus 3 everyday instead of 0 or higher. It means putting a lot of effort just at finding peace of mind. It means many times a person you yourself would not want to be with, because they don’t lift you up, but rather take you down. It says something about your energy level.

That mirror tells me I’m not in peace with this trait, unlike the introversion one. I still wish I was not melancholic. A wish that will stay a wish.

Lone tree on lakeshore reflected in calm water with mist and sunrise

Our kids, our world

The moment they do things you’ve never done or could have done, you look at them, amazed, a life coming from you. Such magic, such an incredible moment, yet so easy to take for granted. You created something better than yourself.

When they fail, it hurts so much, far more than when you fail. The pain can be so deep that you sometimes need to be alone, to hold it and sit with it until it moves on. You want the world to be kind to them, but the world is a tough place. You can’t know the future or guarantee anything. For yourself, that was never a big issue, but it’s a heavy feeling when you think and pray for their future.

Our kids. Our world.

Stubborn

Where’s the balance between thinking independently and simply being stubborn? Reality today feels so different from twenty years ago. I find many of the changes are making things worse—frankly, almost all of them. I keep asking myself: is this just my own inability to adapt, or are these truly harmful changes? Even the way young people speak sounds strange to me. And why don’t they breathe through their noses?