Category Archives: Life

Explorations of human experience, daily living, personal growth, and existence.

#19 The humbling path of starting over

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When I started my new job last November, I thought I would have learned everything there was to know about the role very quickly, that I would have been speaking the smoothest German in no time, and that after a few weeks, I would be having promotion talks with my manager for my outstanding performance.
I came from a very challenging position as a Senior Content Designer, handling the end-to-end content of multiple products in different languages for a tax-filing app. Whatever lay ahead of me, will not be more challenging than that. I thought.
– Besides. – I said to myself. – It’s just a customer support role. How difficult can it be? Plus. – I concluded. – I am a senior professional with years of experience helping people understand complex topics easily.”

I can’t believe the size of the bait I took from my own ego. My arrogance, ignorance, and stubbornness were totally detrimental to me. On the outside, though, I was handling myself very well—I wore, once more, the shoes of a devoted student who’s fully dedicated to learning as much as possible and who’s very appreciative of the opportunity given, especially in these times when having a job feels more like a privilege than a human right. On the inside, feelings of dissatisfaction and frustration corroded me, as I secretly perceived this new beginning as a step back in my career—a feeling that got in the way of the smoother and more pleasant start I was so much looking for.

But paradoxically, what saved me from complete self-sabotage was exactly the intensity of the challenge I was facing, which stimulated my curiosity and willingness to overcome the obstacles and difficulties I encountered.

The first massive challenge I experienced was communicating with colleagues exclusively in German. The funny thing is that a German-speaking job was something I had been looking for since I moved to Germany, but achieving that isn’t simple. You need a good level of German to start from, and despite the hundreds of hours I had invested in courses, tandems, reading books, and watching movies in German, having a normally paced conversation at work is tough. You can’t really stop and ask people to repeat a sentence constantly.

The second challenge was learning new concepts related to computer networking, electronics, and many other technical topics fundamental to understanding the products and customers.

Finally, the third biggest and maybe most complex challenge is understanding the myriad of problems that customers face and learning how to guide them toward the best, most simple, and satisfying solution possible—all while avoiding taking anything personally and being a company cheerleader.

So how did I keep afloat during these first two months in this radical and challenging career change? How did I maintain my sanity while facing such a steep learning curve? Once more, acceptance and surrender really helped me. Understanding that I couldn’t have everything under control as I did after years of experience in other roles, and that I would struggle to communicate with my colleagues and clients in German, was truly like lifting a huge weight off my shoulders. I know that my German will suck for months until it doesn’t anymore; I know I won’t be in my comfort zone in terms of skills and knowledge until I will again; and I know I will struggle to solve most customer problems until I have mastered the most important of them.

Growth is less about perfection and more about perseverance. It’s more about embracing limitations and focusing on incremental improvements than setting flashy goals and unrealistic expectations. When we restart with a series of overwhelming challenges ahead of us, it’s really okay to feel uncomfortable, to struggle, and to sound silly while speaking a very complex foreign language—that’s learning right there, that’s growth right there! Nothing could be better than that.

Things take time, especially when there are big changes involved that we are not used to handling. But things are difficult until they aren’t anymore.

I’m really looking forward to seeing where I’ll be one year from now. At the same time, I want to exorcise from my future any freaking layoff shadow—even though now I know that I can overcome that too.

#18 A compass for the year ahead that works

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I initially wanted to write yet another 2024 wrap-up, which would have most likely turned into a me-me-me redundant post filled with complaints about my “almosts” and “not yets” from the past year. Instead, I prefer to share something that brought clarity to previous years and became a reliable tool for a hopeful start to each new year.

Nowadays, we receive end-of-year wrap-ups and new year’s resolutions updates from almost every app on our phones. This barrage can make reflecting on recent experiences and planning ahead feel overwhelming. However, cutting through the noise to find a tool that truly works for us can transform these reflections into powerful and inspiring activities.

For the last four years, my go-to tool has been a booklet called Year Compass (which you can download entirely free here).

I was first introduced to it by my ex-girlfriend. We began filling out our respective booklets together at her parents’ chalet-style home in Brussels, sitting in front of a rattling fireplace as snowflakes fell like tiny meteorites, driven by a strong and gelid wind. Despite this picturesque, almost dreamlike setting, my first experience was painful. It took me at least three hours to complete the entire Year Compass, as it required deep reflection across all the major spheres of life.

Each year, though, the process became easier, and its effectiveness grew to the point where I can’t imagine starting a new year without it.

So, for anyone seeking a way to process their experiences, integrate the past year with a sense of accomplishment and closure, and face 2025 with renewed hope and confidence, I highly recommend filling out this amazing and completely free tool. You can download it easily, and it’s best to complete it before the new year begins—or at the latest, within the first two weeks of January.

#15 When stoicism turns sour – Part 1

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The way I understand it, the Stoic approach teaches us to accept whatever comes our way with calmness, without compromising our values. And I think it’s a valuable way to see things. However, over time, I realized that this philosophy led me to focus more on the negative possibilities lying ahead rather than the positive ones. I started to picture worst-case scenarios to prepare myself to accept them beforehand. I kind of twisted Stoicism to my own disadvantage—DIY philosophy gone wrong, ouch!

Focusing on the gloomy side of things eventually drained me, and I didn’t even realize what I was doing until I pushed it too far. At first, I would comment on discussions, expressing mainly opinions on what could go wrong. When someone called me out for being pessimistic, I would correct them, insisting I was just being “realistic.”

But this mindset snowballed. I began developing irrational fears about even the smallest things. I became extremely controlling—of myself, my habits, my activities, the situations I put myself in, and the people I met. I built a pattern of suspicion toward literally everything, and over time, it became more and more ingrained in my system.

What’s fascinating to notice, though, is that at the same time this mindset was evolving, I became more organized and productive than ever—but with a cynical and detached attitude toward others. Strangely enough, in terms of my career, this period marked the most significant advancements. I felt a bit like one of those high-ranking professionals or “psychopathic CEOs” living in a bubble of strategic thinking, productivity, and metrics-driven values.

But this way of thinking wasn’t sustainable, at least not for me. I’ve always been a sensitive person, deeply connected to and attentive toward the people around me. This mindset was kilometers away from my core.

Worse yet, I lacked the self-compassion to understand where all of this was originating from. My default relationship with myself was rooted in self-criticism and intolerance. I couldn’t stand myself anymore. Things got even worse: I slowly became paranoid. I lost my courage and, to a certain extent, my curiosity to go out, discover new things, and meet new people.

It took me a while to realize these patterns, but when I did, thankfully, I understood I needed to hit the reset button. I had to start working on myself and make the necessary adjustments, whatever that meant.

I needed to heal. And for the person I was back then—diffident, suspicious, and pessimistic—that was a journey I could only embark on alone.

The first step I took was…

To be continued.

#14 Making space to imperfections

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(Average Reading Time: 7 minutes)

I understood early on in my life a very simple yet extremely valuable lesson: focusing on understanding who I am is one of the most important things I could do, if not the most important. However, despite dedicating time and effort trying to get to the core of myself, I often feel distant from it. Every time I learn something that brings me closer, life humbles me with new challenges, reminding me that this is an ongoing process.

I want to approach this topic from a different perspective—an angle I hadn’t considered until I moved to Berlin and met someone special who shed light on an aspect of this journey I couldn’t grasp until recently.

As a further premise, I believe that the pervasive influence of American media, which often portrays idealized and utopian lifestyles, with its emphasis on excessive ambition and idolizing the wealthy and famous while showcasing only their most appealing sides, has had an influence. This culture obscure the human element in people, fueling unrealistic and, to be honest, often unworthy aspirations. As I write this, I think about Tyler Durden’s words – the character created by Chuck Palahniuk in Fight Club:

We’ve all been raised on television to believe that one day we’d all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars. But we won’t. And we’re slowly learning that fact. And we’re very, very pissed off.

I would modify this quote, adding that we haven’t only been influenced by television but by various forms of modern media. And, contrary to Durden’s sentiment, there is no valid reason to be “very, very pissed off” about it. On the contrary, I feel relieved to have finally understood the deeper meaning of those words and moved beyond them.

To explain what I mean by this, let me elaborate on my earlier, seemingly inconclusive preamble.

I grew up searching for role models everywhere, only to be disappointed when they inevitably failed to embody their values consistently. This pattern of strict and unfair judgment led me to push away many great people and, even worse, apply this same harshness to myself. It took an enormous effort to develop self-compassion and overcome this ingrained self-criticism.

This approach created numerous problems, but the most troubling was my inability to acknowledge and give space to all aspects of my personality, including the “negative” ones I had long judged harshly. However, once I began to embrace these parts of myself, I started to genuinely appreciate who I am and develop deep empathy for others—even those, I assume, whom most people would find difficult to understand.

There is an important distinction to be made between empathizing with someone and accepting all their actions without discernment. Setting boundaries and recognizing what we can tolerate is a crucial part of this process.

I could delve deeper into this topic, but I’ll stop here by stating that a guiding principle I have integrated into my life is to live authentically, own my attitudes, and avoid being swayed by external influences. Self-analysis, speaking from the heart, therapy, and facing my fears have all helped me identify and step back from mental dependencies. These practices have also revealed the patterns people use to draw admiration for their skills or experiences—and the self-imposing limitations we create.


#13 The woman with the bike on the tram

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(Average Reading Time: 4 minutes)

This morning, I experienced a typical Berlin mid-November scene: a tram packed with moody, wet adults, adolescents, and children on their way to work and school. The energy was subdued yet calming. Despite the lack of enthusiasm and excitement, there was a certain peace in the air. Everyone was minding their own business, respecting the unspoken agreement to keep conversations minimal. Heads were buried in screens, books, or gazing out of the window.

As usual, I took out the book I was currently reading and, within moments, was completely absorbed. The city noises, the smell of soaked bodies—all of it faded as I was drawn deeper into the story. The opening and closing of doors at each stop and the subtle shifts in the crowd barely registered as I turned page after page.

Then, the flow of the commute was interrupted. A woman with a bike entered the tram exactly where I was standing forcing me to make a couple of steps back and squeeze myself against a bench of strangers, including a tiny girl that had chosen a corner for herself to zoom out of the rest of the crowd. The woman with the bike pushed her way in, further jostling against the tightly packed passengers, risking injury to both children and adults standing shoulder to shoulder. Eyes turned toward her, expecting an apology, a conciliatory smile, or, better yet, her realizing the situation and stepping back out. But none of that happened. She stood there, straight and stiff, chin held high, exuding an air of entitlement I had rarely seen.

I noticed a baby seat attached to the back of her bike as she pressed a few children against the doors. The passengers, already drained and bracing for their day ahead, lacked the energy to challenge her behavior. It was simply too early for that. And me? I wouldn’t dare confront a mother during the morning rush in a city as ultra-feminist and politically correct as Berlin. Not a chance.

Still, like everyone else, I was irritated. The carefully curated, mid-November bubble of morning quiet had burst. The shared sense of empathy was gone, replaced by heavy sighs and exasperated glances as the tram carried us to the next stops.

Finally, my transfer stop arrived. I crossed the street to the S-Bahn at Alexanderplatz, boarded the train, and reopened my book, ready to return to my story.

Written on 14.11.2024

#12 The paradox of self-awareness

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(Average Reading Time: 6 minutes)

Recently, I watched a wonderful film called E.1027 – Eileen Gray and the house by the sea. What I loved most about it, without going into a detailed plot description, was the self-awareness displayed by the main character as she navigated intense events in her career and personal life.

I was struck by her ability to discern, with extreme clarity, what she wanted and where she drew her boundaries. She always knew what affected her, in what ways, and what she wanted to do about it. She would then act in alignment with her needs, accepting the consequences without victimizing herself, while allowing space for the emotions that naturally arose.

There were simple things she said that were impactful, eye-opening, and at the same time extremely relatable. It felt as though I had arrived at the same conclusions myself many times before—only to forget them again and again.

For example, at one point she says something along these lines regarding how relationships disrupt her work:
“A constant stream of conversations and small activities prevents me from focusing on projects I value […] I need to spend days in a row on my own to allow ideas to flow again.”

At another moment, she reflects:
“People and open spaces sometimes frighten me.”

Or, as a conclusion on her search for a place she could call home:
“The home I was looking for was in my imagination, in my work.”

I was moved by these statements, primarily because they were part of the character’s inner dialogue, free from judgment and filled with compassion.

And that’s where, once again, I acknowledged the power of self-compassion—the value of a kind and empathetic inner dialogue, which has such profound potential to support us through life’s challenges.

Yet there’s also a deceiving aspect to self-awareness. I think it’s essential to allow self-awareness to simply be, rather than overthinking it as a concept. Our minds are like lighthouses: they illuminate what needs attention, although sometimes we need to elevate our perspective to truly see the full panorama.

Self-awareness is not a destination; it’s an evolving aspect of our growth, and it requires an openness to paradox. Embracing self-compassion alongside self-awareness can help us navigate this journey, allowing us to uncover insights and perspectives that guide us—perhaps not always where we expected, but ultimately, where we need to be.