I stopped blogging pretty much last September, but I have lost my voice a few years ago. I start to realise just now that my experience of severe social isolation during my years in Oxfordshire affected me really deeply. I start to feel my voice emerging again, but I am still a bit shy to fully put in words what happened to me back there and then. I can only hope to do it slowly, gradually, with a great deal of self-care. I know that life is a journey. I know that oftentimes it is hard to see the true meaning of our reality and so we have to give it some time. Today I can start to see the meaning in my experience of extreme loneliness, but for a long time I did not have the courage to look back at those days. Simply because there is a lot of negativity around my experiences. There are a lot of people who did nothing to help me and I will have to point some fingers.

Thanks to my new life in Bristol, a few good old friends, my family and a vast amount of new support networks I can now slowly come out of my quiet place and speak up. For the first time in my life, while living in Oxfordshire I have lost my voice. I have lost the image of myself. I have evaporated into the thin air.

I do not know if anyone else can relate to that feeling of being a complete ghost but if you do, I salute you! It is a very tricky burden to carry because it is actually light and very difficult to define. But I will go back to those days and attempt to explain my experiences simply because social isolation becomes a problem of our generation. We are losing ourselves and forget the true meaning and value of our lives in the world that tries to convince us otherwise: that we are meaningless and never quite good enough. We are distracted blaming technology for the sins of our bad leaders and lazy networks. When in reality we are all in this life together, going through a lot of similar pains and challenges.

This year I lost both of my parents but I have also lost a sense of innocence that I aim to find again. I became an orphan in so many ways! I am ready to share it though. Thanks to my hard work and determination, support of the carefully chosen people, I am in a good place. This gives me hope for a better tomorrow. I cannot do it without the act and courage of looking back and exploring my dark times. After a few years of living in a cold, alienating and adverse to change I feel like I was sucked into a black hole and disappeared in a different dimension. Now, upon my return, I am wondering: what has changed in me? What have I learned? How can I share those learnings to warn others? I know my experienced bothers me and I know I am not the only one affected by social isolation. So I hope to explore it in more detail. I know I am not doing it all on my own.

It is our job is to speak up and resist the status quo – we live the times when we all finally have to take a stand. I am hopeful to find my true voice again!

Photo by Zoltan Tasi on Unsplash

This is the end of your life and I owe you this letter.

I want to tell you how much I love you and thank you for everything you have done for me.

Thank you for keeping me safe. Your life was a storm but somehow you have managed to keep me safe, steady and centred. All throughout the journey that we have shared. You shielded me from the thunders in our own house. You showed me the way out and never held me back. 

Thank you for showing me what it means to love and to be loved. I mean the warm, kind and caring love. You showed me the active, deep connection few people appreciate. I grew up knowing a good relationship from a fake one. 

Thank you for teaching me the basic life skills. Without your practical teachings I would not be able to live a full life today. 

Thank you for teaching me the value of self-care in times when it was unacceptable and unthinkable.

Thank you for teaching me that the true legacy of a human is not the amount of houses they own, but the amount of trees they plant and people they nurture. 

Thank you for showing me the value of learning and exploring, never standing still, always moving forward. 

Thank you for teaching me the difference between a to-do list and getting things done.

Thank you for teaching me that choices are not easy, but they can be informed.

Thank you for always leaning in, speaking up and looking after the people who came after you. I have no choice but to follow you the same way. 

Thank you for teaching me to treat young people and adults with equal amount of respect and attention. For treating everyone as a human being – regardless of their gender, education, origin or age.

Thank you for showing me how to live life fully. You showed me how to relax, step back a little, slow down and simply take in the world around us. You showed me how to be happy. 

Thank you for teaching me to look back only to steady myself. For reminding me to always look ahead of me, to focus on the future, on the life’s horizon. Thank you for showing me how to love the right here and right now this way. 

Thank you for teaching me to surround myself with good people. We can only aim to remain faithful to our values, it’s a constant battle, but we are in it together. We are all going our best. 

Thank you for showing me the power of our human vulnerability. It is only in our weaknesses that we can find the power to go on, not in strengths. I get it now and it makes everything easier, simpler. 

Thank you for showing me how to protect myself. I know it also meant that you lost me. But I also know that it was you who showed me the value of knowing our own boundaries. 

Thank you for being so very human with me. For teaching me to make mistakes and owning them. This one is hard, because it’s your mistakes that led to me loosing you way too early. Thank you for even trying to understand and respect my final choice on that. 

Thank you for hopefulness, for the constant faith in life and in people. Kindness was your religion and so it remains mine too. You showed me the value of each small leap of that faith. It’s revolutionary. 

Thank you for our shared, magical silences. You showed me the value of a grounded, rich stillness. You talked to me without words, yet showed me so much! You saw, heard and spoke wisdom of our ancestors few people nowadays are even able to notice. You held the time and space for me, expecting me to do the same for my family. 

Our time is difficult. The world is challenged like never before. We are all challenged daily. You have shown me the truth of our human condition in its entity: the perfect imperfection of our kind. With “kind-ness” as its most imperative adjective. I am so grateful for that. We have shared a connection hard to explain. Even when separated by our choices, we lived in our own solitudes but in dignity. I have never ever lost the legacy you have given me. I carry it with me as a reminder of the best of people. And I promise to pass it on to others through my own silences, words and actions. 

I miss you dearly, but I know I am doing my best to make you proud. 

R.I.P. HJK 

Slow progress can be frustrating, but it’s better than no progress at all, especially when it comes to our balance between tech and other aspects of life. For me, the balance is measured in the screen time and allotment time.  We have signed our allotment agreement in spring here in Bristol and did not do much on the plot due to a very hot weather. The soil was a way to dry to work with even just for clearing out the grass and weeds. It’s a miracle that we have managed to grow a few fruit and veg, and some flowers early in the year, because we really cannot enjoy the plot just yet. But since we came back from Moldova I feel really determined to clear out and prepare the soil for work on it. It’s really hard to work through such a large plot. A neighbour told me that he was offered our plot but did not want to take on too much. I think, however, that with a good, slow flow of steady work, we can conquer it.

I have been visiting the allotment for the last few weeks almost daily, every day doing a little bit of hard work. I loved it. I hated it. I enjoyed it. I dreaded it. But I continued, steadily. I posted on Instagram to document the progress for myself, but also quietly hoping that our followers there would cheer me up. And so they did, oftentimes! It really helps to be supported. But as I am approaching the second phase of my work: digging up the actual beds – I am also realising that work with soil is extremely monotonous and relaxing. It gives me a lot of time to think about my therapy, therapy studies, new job, old job, new plans for an even newer job (ie. new products in my own company). On many occasions I allow myself to rest from thinking too – I rest my thoughts on the petals of our flowers or birds flying above the plot. I simply allow my subconscious to do all the work instead.

I have a vision of the final result which really helps because with every swing of the shovel I am closer to that goal. The goal is mine, self-inflicted if you wish. In positive psychology, we learn that achieving self-prescribed goals make us happy. If someone else sets you a task and you are not empowered, nor engaged, the success rate is rather small. The feeling of accomplishment comes with choosing the level of your challenge and completing it. So I get a lot of that in the allotment nowadays and I will feel really happy when the project is complete and we can start planting fruit and veg. The slow and steady rhythm of work means that I can see some results of each chosen task – I do not have to push myself too hard – and I feel really accomplished every day.

There is also something comforting in the regularity of the work. It does feel like a workout even though I am there for one to two hours each day. That is really not a lot of physical work to fit people, but I am a geek so this is my maximum for now. I can feel my body is getting a bit more resilient and a little bit stronger so I am starting to consider winter jogging once the allotment is finalised. I feel that the regular walk to the allotment and my routine of setting things up, working, resting, working more, resting, picking up fruit, taking photos, chatting to neighbours, walking back home, sharing photos online…all of this is a nice little relaxing routine.

So this slow progress in the afternoon warm sun with people equally excited about re-connecting with nature really balances out all the time I spent online or in front of screens.

I would love to hear how others manage their balance between digital tech and other areas of life?

Photo by Emiel Molenaar on Unsplash