I will definitely continue my story about the trip — it has so many great moments it could fill a whole mini-saga. It’s just that right now my brain is in “slow digestion” mode, and putting it all into a coherent text feels harder than convincing a cat to learn Polish.

At the moment, my soul is fully rented out to melancholy. No option to buy it back.

Usually, when I feel awful, I switch on my inner warden and force myself to do good things for myself. And yes, I know all too well how hard it is to drag your body out of bed or, dear gods, muster the will to take a shower. But I try. Because I know it will pass. It has already happened a thousand times, and it will happen a thousand more.

My “good things” are a calm morning, breakfast, a hot shower, coffee, and a workout (the hardest part, because it requires leaving the house — whose idea was that?). Then a bit of work, some video editing. All my Instagram pages are gone, but I keep posting videos on TikTok. Filming has become a reflex at this point, like yawning when someone else yawns.

After the workout — cleaning the apartment and checking my emails. Fоrcing myself to take my antidepressants on schedule. One hour a day I wrestle with the Polish language — each time feeling like I’m trying to hаmmer a brick into my skull.

Today I ran into a friend near the gym. We exchanged a few words — about taxes, deleted Instagrams, and my doomed jaw treatment. And he told me I was “an unbreakable rock.” Said jokingly, but it landed like a medal.

It’s strange — to feel like a rag doll yet be called a rock.

I know this cycle will spin again and again: collapse — gathering myself piece by piece — collapse again. And after all these years of depression and anxiety, I’ve learned just one thing: the only way to pull yourself out of the swamp is discipline.
Not motivation
Not inspiration
Not “catching the moment.”
Just a hard deal with yourself: do at least something.
Every day. Even when you don’t feel like it.
Especially when you don’t feel like it.