It all starts with a quiet, intentional, and honest no to external chaos. It also starts by asking ourselves very difficult questions and accepting our limitations. And it continues with daily uncertainty. Relationships fall into silence; the heart becomes deeper rather than softer, and as a vision, there is an open field.
My wise father had warned me that there would come a time when nothing would make sense anymore, but it is not easy to understand something when you do not feel or experience it. That is the reason why I have always been wary of those who believe they can advise — or worse, judge — others without having lived the same traumas. And how can a trauma be the same for each of us when we are so different and yet equal?
It also starts by repeating to oneself: I am not my past. I am not what they did to me. Life becomes heavier, values shift, and you start tolerating ambiguity. You also accept that you have been manipulated while you were drowning and wanted but not loved for who you are — searching for a branch to stop falling. But you keep falling. Until you reach rock bottom because no one is coming to save you. And at the bottom, there is only you.
As you stand by yourself in front of the mirror, Carl Jung and his analytical approach to psychology introduce the notion of the shadow. The shadow is the parts of ourselves that we do not see or have difficulty accepting. They are feelings, thoughts, and traits that we judge—based on many different variables such as education, religion, life experiences, etc.—as bad. Allow me to give you simple examples of the shadow:
1. Anger in someone who believes they must always be kind.
2. Envy in someone who prides themselves on being generous.
3. Fear in someone who wants to appear strong.
But the shadow is not evil, it is human. Carl Jung believed that growing as a person means recognizing and integrating the shadow:
1. Acknowledge it without shame.
2. Learning what's trying to teach us.
3. Using its energy in a healthy way.
The shadow is what we hide from ourselves — but learning to face it helps us become more whole. How to face the shadow is a choice, and choice demands presence. Instinct, on the other hand, does not negociate. And only then, can you really start again.
Quietly, intentionally and honestly.
I am a writer who thinks in sentences and silences, a designer who believes less can say more, and an art lover who finds meaning in small details most people overlook. Minimalism, for me, isn't just aesthetics - it's a way of breathing, choosing, and living with clarity.
This new beginning isn't loud or rushed. It's slow mornings, empty space, soft colors, words written with care, and creating a new life that feels aligned rather than impressive. I am learning to let go of what no longer fits and make room for what feels true.
This chapter is about presence, creativity, and rebuilding myself with intention - one word, one design, one quiet moment at a time.