Start Where You Are

I meant the thoughts I’d take into the new year to be more powerful and positive, but at the end of the last one I found myself repeating this one to remind myself that change doesn’t start somewhere you haven’t been yet — it starts where you are. A simple, neutral thought whose logic can hardly escape anyone.

Broadford, Isle of Skye | September 2017
Broadford, Isle of Skye | September 2017

Whether you want to change your profession, eating habits or attitude to adversity, you need to start in the place you are now. Not a place you want to be, probably. A bad place, perhaps. But it’s not possible to become the idealized image of yourself in no time.

It starts with realizing where you are.

It may take some courage and seriousness to take the first step towards change.

More courage and seriousness to step back and try again if the first step didn’t take you where you wanted.

A shit-ton of work to find the right path!

Patience to stay put if your heart, mind, lungs and the rest of your lovely self don’t quite keep up with the pace.

More work to keep searching, and stay on the right path if you’ve found it.

And perserverance.

And more of it.


Good luck, everyone.


Finding A Voice

I haven’t been posting regularly for quite a while because I’ve been having difficulties with finding a voice that suits me. It seems that when you lose focus on your writing, it’s getting harder and harder to later figure out what you want to write about, and how to do it. That’s what happened in my case, and the dull-edged character my writing acquired as of late has been annoying me to the point where…

…I decided to change some things.

First of all, I’m considering switching to my native language. Writing in English is super-cool because you can reach a bigger audience, plus if writing in a foreign language makes you feel less exposed, as is does to me, you don’t have to struggle. But I guess I’m ready to take on the struggle now.

Also, some of the things that I want to write about, I want to write about them specifically for a Polish audience. I feel like matters of mental health are rarely approached with a healthy attitude around me so I decided to do a little something to maybe change this a bit. I know I won’t change much; I know I’ll still be hearing, or reading on the internet, the same old shit about the scary, dangerous, inhuman mentally ill people; but I really want to try and change this a little.

…So now you also know what the main topic will be. I decided to cut on other topics, though, so that my blog is less of a dump and more of a blog.

Expect some update about the Polish version of the blog some time soon, then.


Finding a voice is important, not only for blogging, but in all kinds of communication. You probably know that you won’t get very far if what you say, and how you say it, doesn’t quite fit with what you think and care about. So you need a voice for that. I’m not writing about any voice, but neither am I writing about “your own, unique voice” – just one that suits you better. Go and find it, and so will I.

Funny Thing, Spring

Too lazy to write anything by myself, I’m posting the most brilliant thing that ever has, or ever will, appear on this blog.

e. e. cummings
Spring Is Like A Perhaps Hand

Spring is like a perhaps hand
(which comes carefully
out of Nowhere)arranging
a window,into which people look(while
people stare
arranging and changing placing
carefully there a strange
thing and a known thing here)and

changing everything carefully

spring is like a perhaps
Hand in a window
(carefully to
and from moving New and
Old things,while
people stare carefully
moving a perhaps
fraction of flower here placing
an inch of air there)and

without breaking anything.

Driving Home for Christmas

I’m driving home for Christmas, bitch, I intoned, and they all laughed. Such a happy carful of people it was that I almost opened the door to throw myself down and roll behind on the highway, and get lost, get lost, I so much wanted to get lost on the way.

We were driving home, for Christmas, and for the sake of decency I remained on my seat. It wouldn’t be nice to get killed on the way to celebrate a birth. Whose birth it was meant to be I wasn’t sure.

But there is always some birth at those times when your sense of self sways, pushed by a gift you don’t like, and by how it makes you feel older, or different, than the giver expected; by a brother-in-law wishing you a merry shmerry and that you’d be made happy by something you least want; by the snore that resounds in the vast empty chamber of your skull as the rest of the table gets livelier and more unwelcomely familiar with every passing minute.

It felt heavy all the way. We arrived, finally, without any miscarriages.

I spent that last Christmas like a decent, healthy neonate should: mostly, I slept.

Say it!

I sometimes get ridiculously scared of saying something. I mean, it sometimes really is ridiculous. Like I believed something awful might happen if I say a thing.
Only thing that does happen is I sometimes start hating my stupid mouth for ever having opened. But that’s my contribution to the potential awfulness of life. No other awful thing ever really happens.
I should probably have learnt that by now but I’ll take my time.

And meanwhile I’ll say something about the potential marvellousness of life and its connection to the act of saying something.
It’s all very simple even if it takes abundant time to grasp it. Being a rather secretive person who’s been sort of checking what happens if she doesn’t say things for most of her life, I found it fucking fantastic how actually saying something changes things.

First of all, when you say what you want, you might actually get what you want. Not like, you know, from Santa or something. Santa doesn’t… oh no, I can’t say it… never mind that.
You can get what you want when you have told someone about it openly just because when you say something, it stays. Like it was hanged in the air in front of you as a reminder: you said you wanted it, and you were honest about it, weren’t you? So… go and get it! It’s like a promise you make to yourself, and it gives a lot of motivation.
What’s more, sometimes you might actually find out that you want something when you tell someone about it. I found out what I wanted to study when my bro and his ex asked me about it. Not that I’d never thought about it before. But when I only thought about it, it was all too hazy, and kind of abstract, too. Me studying translation? Nice dream, yeah. But when I told my bro and his then-girlfriend about it, I realised that‘s what I really want, and it started sounding more like a plan than a dream.

And there’s the second thing. There are only two — as I’ve said, it’s really not that complicated.
The second thing is when you tell someone what you feel, the effects will vary from awful to marvellous. They might not listen. They might not understand. They might react badly. They might understand, though. They might empathise. They’ll do whatever they fucking want, in fact, but that’s not the point! When you say what you feel, the one sure marvellous effect is that it‘s out. And feelings always feel better when they’re out.
Kept inside, they ferment, and slowly but surely you end up with a lot of intoxicating stuff inside you. And that’s not all that good, I can tell you, ’cause getting high on such stuff is no fun, plus it leads to regular delirium. And who wants that? Well, I don’t, and although in my case it requires acting completely à rebours in relation to the way I’m used to act, I try to let some of my feelings out. Air them a bit from time to time as they need it.

So. I’ve said what I had to say. Now you go and say it! Whatever it is you want to say. You can do it by replying to my post below, or you can do it whatever way you want to. Just say it!

„All is wrong”. To all you desperate souls out there

Despair can make you think that all is wrong.

Despair is actually quite good at that. It can make you choke on your tears in the middle of a night and feel like you’re all alone in the whole damn world, and think you’d better put an end to all of this by swallowing some pills.

Now, I’m not going to try to convince you that “it’s never that bad”. ‘Cause actually yes, actually sometimes it is that bad. ‘Cause it feels that bad.

…Nor am I going to lie to you and say you’re never alone. ‘Cause sometimes you are. Let’s face it: at some point in your life you can find yourself completely, and totally, and undeniably alone for some reasons. This kind of shit also happens.

You probably know there are dark places in people’s lives.

They’re places you later want to forget, and you may also want to deny that it was you: down there, crouching on the floor in that darkest of places, all alone, hurt, and hopeless. You may want to tell yourself that that person wasn’t you.

But it doesn’t work, does it? I mean, “becoming somebody else”, “becoming a different person”, and losing this other person, leaving them behind, leaving them for ever in that dark place you don’t ever want to be in again.

I wanted to lose the person I once was that way. A girl of fourteen: left alone, scared shitless, having no sense of belonging anywhere, and later only wanting to give it all up and die. I wanted to lose her, leave her somewhere on my way. I wanted it badly, but it didn’t work.

Some time lapsed, though, and I understood that I simply can’t ever leave her like that. If I left her, she wouldn’t let me forget about herself, anyway: she would wake me in the middle of the night with her crying, and ask for my attention.

Nor can I deny that that person was me, once. ‘Cause she was, and still is a part of me. I carry her around inside me like a dead foetus. It’s a slightly disturbing experience, but I’m getting used to it.

Accept the person, or persons, that you once were in your life: whoever they were, in whatever condition they were, whatever they did, or whatever was done to them. They were you at some point of your own life, and even though you don’t want to be them, and see the dark they saw ever again, they deserve this acceptance. You deserve this acceptance.

Don’t leave who you once were behind: carry your dead foetuses within you. Carrying them won’t make you be like them, nor will it stop you from changing, and growing — if that’s what you want in life.

‘Cause while “becoming somebody else” and leaving who you once were behind is, to my mind, a) a very bad idea and b) impossible, change is always possible.

So give yourself a chance at that. All of you, desperate souls. You deserve this chance, and you can change. You can always change. Even if it’s “all wrong” now.

All the best,

P. s. I came across a nice song writing this. Nice, isn’t it?