Tag: self-care

Wouldn’t it be nice

If people remembered that kindness matters. If they had an ability to swap places with others and feel what they feel. That would be a game changer, wouldn’t it?

If people remembered that it’s not about the money. That the times when people proudly packed all their possessions to accompany them into their graves are long gone. None of it will matter when you take your last breath. 

If people remembered life isn’t a power struggle. You’re not here to prove anything to anyone, to impress, to compete, to win. Each and every one of us is on their own journey. Live and let live.

If people realized we’re all different, and it’s not just okay, it’s actually amazing. That’s exactly how it’s supposed to be. That’s the beauty of humanity. We’re all made of the same energy, regardless of what we look like on the outside.

If people remembered that tomorrow’s never promised. And that you don’t get a refund for today if it wasn’t to your liking. There’s no pause button. There’s no rewind option. 

If people remembered that love isn’t something you get — it’s something you give, first of all. Love attracts love. If there’s no love inside you, it won’t magically appear on the outside. And it starts with loving yourself.

If people remembered that words have power. Words can heal and they can kill. And once the damage has been done, it can’t be easily erased. Words matter and should be used with wisdom and caution.

If people noticed the little things. If they opened their hearts to the beauty hidden in the fleeting moments, and focused on that instead of all the worries, grievances, and disappointments. 

If people learned to listen. Really listen. With empathy and compassion and understanding. Instead of judging or waiting for the best moment to interrupt and jump in with their own opinion.

If people learned responsibility. If they remembered their words and actions always have consequences. And it’s usually better to prevent than to fix. 

If people remembered that life is short and that while we’re all on our own journeys, we still happen to be on this planet together at the same time, so should we really make coexisting that hard? No one really benefits from that, at the end of the day. And if they think they do, they’re just really lost and confused, poor souls.

Wouldn’t it be nice?

The Girl Who Was Afraid

the little girl was afraid 

of darkness

of ghosts 

of death

of space

she grew and she learned 

learned to read 

learned to dream 

learned to be afraid of judgement and betrayal 

afraid of being second best 

she wanted to grow things 

trees and flowers and long hair 

she wanted to grow wings

it only worked in dreams 

she grew and she learned 

learned to rely on herself 

learned not to trust

to not turn her back 

to not show her tears

she wanted to create 

to write words that would stick 

in hearts and minds 

but by that time she was fluent in being afraid 

of not being good enough 

she learned to take care of herself and others 

mostly others

they always came first 

there was always someone to save

she kept dreaming 

but she stopped flying in her dreams 

she grew and she learned 

that things are not what they seem 

and people aren’t either 

every lesson brought a new scar

the fears changed 

transformed 

evolved 

she learned to be afraid of wasting time 

time was never enough 

just like her

she grew and she learned 

to be afraid of never actually growing 

of being stuck like a moth in amber

while life passes by laughing at her

the girl had her own kids now 

so she learned to be oh so afraid 

for them

every 

single 

day 

but she also finally learned to say no 

at least sometimes 

courage felt intoxicating

bubbling in her veins 

almost 

giving 

her 

wings

again 

she never liked what she saw in the mirror 

but every day she learned 

to keep that eye contact 

a bit longer

until one day

she didn’t turn away 

she looked at the reflection 

and said 

now I need to learn 

how to stop being afraid 

Small Big Talk

Let’s talk about the weather

Let’s talk about the smell of coffee teasing your nostrils in the morning

Or the first sun rays sneaking through the curtains to tickle your eyelashes

Let’s talk about goosebumps after listening to your favorite song

every

single

time

Or that book that kept you up all night and you wish you could forget it all so you could read it again

Let’s talk about the sun diving into the sea in the evening and holding its breath for the whole night

And the birds singing in the branches

Celebrating each day

Reminding us all how precious life is

If only we knew their language

Let’s talk about how a cat’s purr

Works better than medicine

And a dog’s wagging tail is a declaration of loyalty

About how your kid’s little hand feels in yours

And their laughter is better than any music ever written

Let’s not talk about the news

Please, leave the politics aside

Let’s not discuss the ever-growing prices and the broken education system

The feeling of impending doom is contagious

Let’s talk about life

Talk about love

A small big talk

To suture our wounded hearts

What a Funny Time

I’m watching my little son as he sleeps. Marveling at this miracle we’ve created. Trying to wrap my head around how perfect he is. And how this perfect human being came from inside me.

It’s such a strange season of my life. My youngest turns 5 next month. And no matter how cliche it sounds, these years just flew by in the blink of an eye. They really did. There was a lot that happened in these five years, of course. There was a whole pandemic that turned the world upside down. There was a start of my writing career that turned my life upside down. There were struggles, adventures, learning curves, moments of joy. Tears and laughter, hellos and goodbyes. Everything you could imagine. And yet, I look at this little angel (aren’t they all angels when they sleep?) and wonder—when did this happen?

I’m about to book a one-way flight to another country for my eldest son. He’s 18. He’s got a life of his own and rarely finds time for me. And he’s getting ready to embark on a journey of a lifetime, going abroad to study.

For a year, to start with.

Although he’s planning to stay longer. Okay, in fact, he’s not planning to return.

Which is a good thing, of course. We can never truly go back, we can only move forward. Besides, every journey, every smallest trip we take always cause irrevocable change inside us. You just can’t come back as the same person.

I know it. And I love it.

When it comes to my journeys.

But as I plan for my young adult’s departure, I realize that those eighteen years also flashed by. My little baby is not a baby anymore. And I have no idea how it happened.

Years.

Decades.

I’ve been building my life.

And a life for my kids.

Rebuilding it.

Sometimes from scratch.

Making decisions.

Going places.

Changing directions.

Countries, cities, homes, identities.

Am I even me anymore?

Who was me, anyway, and does it even matter, if I’m not her?

Who am I now, and who will I be next year?

I’m just someone who finds herself in a funny time.

Turned 45.

Published my 4th book.

Got my 1st tattoo.

Celebrated my mom’s 80th birthday.

Choosing a cake for my son’s 5th birthday.

Hoping my other son can come home for his Christmas break to celebrate his 19th.

Numbers.

They don’t define anything, yet they carry so much weight. We always rely on numbers, don’t we? They scare us but also ground us at the same time. As if they’re something we can desperately hold onto in this whirlwind of a life.

Except we can’t. Because numbers tend to change. They never stay the same. Because this is how time works.

Funny, crazy, weird time.

Good deeds, cherry tomatoes, and the power of perspective

An old lady in the street was selling cherry tomatoes and figs from her own garden. They looked nice, and I decided to get some. Besides, I figured it would be a good deed since she had to sit there in the August heat on a tiny, uncomfortable chair.

I ended up paying much more than I would had I bought them at the marketplace or on a supermarket. Not sure if she did it on purpose. I suspect she did, because she kept telling me different prices and didn’t even weigh the fruit like she did for the previous customer. So I left with a bit of an unpleasant feeling. Like when you want to do something good but people take advantage of you.

But then I sat on a bench, while waiting for my son’s daycare to finish, took out a fresh fig from the bag and just ate it right there and then. It was delicious.

And I thought to myself, it doesn’t really matter, does it? The fact that I overpaid. The fact that she shortchanged me. What matters is I had the right intention, and the result was worth it too.

So instead of spending the rest of my day feeling hard done by and reminding myself that the road to hell is paved with good intentions, I figured I’d just enjoy the taste of a fresh fig.

And as soon as I took that decision, my day got a whole lot better.

Wake Up

Wake up

The world’s gone mad

It’s time to run

Pack light

There’s not much time

Take the essentials

Throw in some love and faith

And strength, you’ll need it

And an open mind

Some inner peace

Will do you good

Might even save your life

Forget convictions

They’re a luxury

Pack some common sense

There’s a shortage nowadays

Add loyalty and integrity

You’ll need the courage

And a bit of recklessness

And hope

Don’t forget hope

Embracing Change

I have a love-hate relationship with change. 

I think many people do. 

It’s so strange. One would think that change is such an inevitable part of life–pretty much the material life itself is made of–that we should be used to it and take it as something absolutely natural. Yet we keep resisting. We keep letting it throw us off track.

Everything in this world is about change. Morning changes to daytime, and then to nighttime. Days of the week change. Months. Seasons. 

Our bodies change. Our minds. Our feelings. Our habits. Sometimes, it happens slowly and gradually, and sometimes we feel like we blinked and the world turned upside down. 

There are changes we look forward to, and changes we fear. Even though we realize time never stands still, we find ourselves caught off guard looking in the mirror and noticing the first wrinkles, or stray gray hairs.

And then your favorite coffee shop closes down, and a new place opens instead. Another change that causes discomfort. You can live with that, of course, but you keep looking back and thinking how different your life used to be with or without those seemingly insignificant things. 

My generation has witnessed probably the most drastic change ever. Personally, I come from a place that was very different from the rest of the world, so it hit me even harder. I was born and raised in a country that doesn’t exist anymore, so I witnessed a whole world collapse before my eyes before I was even a teen.

Things kept changing at lightning speed. Later on, I moved to a different country. Learned a new language. My family fell apart. Fast forward a few years–I built a new family. 

I’ve lost people I loved. I’ve made new friends and learned new skills. Fell in love again, and brought a new life into this world.

I should be immune to change by now. 

But I’m not. 

This year brings a whole lot of change into my life. While my youngest son starts daycare, my eldest graduates from high school, learns to drive, and plans to leave in a few months to study abroad. I’m equally excited and terrified. 

Over the years, I’ve learned to adapt and adjust to pretty much anything. If I was to pack up tomorrow and move to another place–house, city, country, continent–I know I’m capable of doing that. I’ll manage. 

Will it be easy? Absolutely not. 

A few years ago, writing books was a dream of mine. A life-long dream. Something that never changed over all those years in the crazy whirlwind of my life. 

Today, I have several books published–in a foreign language–and I keep being hard on myself for not writing and publishing more. I’m always impatient. Always eager to do more, learn more, achieve more. 

And at the same time, I’m afraid of change. If I’m fully honest with myself, more often than I’d like to, I want to freeze the time. I want to press pause. Especially when it comes to thinking of the day (just a few months away) when my son gets on a plane and heads towards his new life.

How is it even possible, I wonder? To look forward to change, to growth and development, at the same time wanting to hide in a corner–in a cozy comfort zone–and being anxious about what tomorrow brings?

My little son plays a game and gets frustrated when he can’t get it right. I tell him, “It’s okay. You’re learning. That’s the whole point of it. That’s the fun part. If everything was easy, it would be boring.”


And at the same time, I think–how often do we as adults realize that? Can we even imagine what life would be like if nothing was ever changing? If we were stuck in a moment, like a mosquito trapped forever in a piece of amber?

In the third book of my trilogy, my main character ends up in a world where there’s always sunset. It’s a beautiful, idyllic little place. But after a while, she finds herself depressed, hating sunsets, and keeping the curtains closed because she doesn’t want to look out the window anymore. 

Would I want to be in her place, I ask myself? Most certainly not. 

As painful and uncomfortable as it is, change is something that fuels this life. Change is, at the end of the day, the only thing that makes sense. 

The question is, how do we make peace with it?

Things We Carry

People carry so much.

Our whole life, we carry something. And the older we get, the more our spines bend under the weight.

We carry bags full of shopping. School backpacks. Purses. Piles of textbooks. Suitcases. Boxes with our belongings as we move to a new place.

We carry our kids when they’re tired. We carry their backpacks, their toys, their scooters and skateboards.

We carry our pets to the vet clinic.

We carry guilt. Regrets. Nostalgic memories.

We carry self doubt. Grief. Fear. Anxiety.

We do carry our dreams too, but they are the lightest. They don’t weigh that much—so oftentimes they escape and disappear high in the sky like a balloon.

Our hands are rarely free of weight. Neither are our hearts and minds.

So sometimes we catch ourselves looking up at the birds roaming in the sky and a faint whisper of envy touches our souls. What would it be like, we wonder, to be so light and free? What would it feel like to soar among the clouds with no added weight?

And someday, we’ll find out.

Childhood fears

When I was little, 

there were two things 

that would keep me up at night

and have me in tears.

First was the infiniteness of space, 

and the other was the inevitability of death.

I live in a city, I thought. 

The city is within a country.

The country is within a continent,

The continent within a planet.

The planet is in space.

Now, what is space within?

Where does it end? 

And what’s beyond the border?

Enough to drive a five-year-old crazy.

I’m forty-five and I still don’t understand.

Death terrified me. Not the process,

not even the fact itself. 

Rather, what happens after.

I just couldn’t wrap my head around it.

Here I am, I thought, 

Lying here and thinking these thoughts 

and feeling these feelings. 

But when I die, what happens then?

Who’s going to think and feel these things? 

Where will I go? 

I can’t just disappear now, can I?

I can’t just stop being. 

That would be wrong. Too cruel. 

Impossible and illogical 

Just like the infinite space.

Forty years later, 

I’m not afraid of death as such.

I definitely don’t look forward to it. 

I hope I have plenty of time to enjoy this crazy life.

But when the day comes,

I know I won’t just disappear.

Space still baffles me.

Snacks for the Soul: 100 Friendly Reminders for Daily Growth and Personal Empowerment

Sometimes, we need to be reminded of things. Things that might seem obvious at first but we still tend to lose sight of them.

Wrapped up in our struggles, worries, and doubts, we forget the seemingly simple things that are, in fact, essential. 

Important reminders can come from anywhere. Learning about someone else’s experience, facing a certain obstacle in our own life, or hearing advice from a friend. It’s up to us what we do with these little lessons. We can take some time to ponder their meaning and importance, or we can gloss over them and move on with our lives–only to be reminded of those things later in a different scenario. Because the Universe never gets tired of teaching us lessons.

One thing I noticed long ago was that I possess much more ‘wisdom’ when I give advice to someone. Listening to a friend and giving my input opens my eyes to things that I have been doing wrong myself. When I feel the need to help someone I find myself knowing and understanding things I forget when I face similar struggles of my own. That’s one of the reasons why open and honest communication and sharing your feelings and emotions with someone close can be highly beneficial–even life-changing. 

And sometimes, the advice I gave to a friend comes back to me when I need it the most. Moments like that are precious. Again, the Universe works in intricate ways. 

My upcoming release, Snacks for the Soul, a book of 100 friendly reminders for daily growth and personal empowerment, is a collection of bite-size reminders that can serve as your daily guide to living a more fulfilled and joyous life. It can be your companion for those moments when you need a gentle nudge towards the light. For moments when you’re looking for inspiration, comfort, or a reminder of your inner strength.

Most of the reminders I’m sharing in this little book–in fact, all of them–are reminders I need to hear myself from time to time. It doesn’t matter how many times you hear them. What matters is the moment when they really make an impact. The moment when you are ready to connect with them, embrace them, and take action. 

So I figured that if they’re all compiled together in a short and simple-to-digest form, they will have the strongest effect. You can read it over and over. You can make notes and mark those pages that resonate the most with bookmarks/napkins/old receipts/colorful post-it-notes. You can write down your own thoughts on the pages. You can read it from the first page to the last, or just open the book on a random page when you feel like it. 

And of course, you can share it with friends and loved ones. Because when we share–when we genuinely try to help someone–we learn our own lessons. I know it works for me. Give it a try. I’m sure it’ll work for you too.