I disappeared.

The most honest explanation is that I don’t really know how to speak when everything inside just feels… exhausted.

During this time, I had an X-ray and found out I have a rib fracture. Breathing hurts. Laughing too. Even turning in my sleep feels like some kind of challenge. It’s better than in the first days, of course, but not completely.

I’m on antibiotics, treating my dermatitis, trying to somehow put myself back together piece by piece, but at the same time I’ve been feeling something strange something like body dysmorphia. I look at myself and don’t recognize or accept what I see, like it’s not fully me. And honestly, that weighs on me more than the physical pain.

Right now, “sport” has turned into a very modest version of itself I just go to the park near my place and walk 10,000 steps a day. Sometimes more, if I can. It’s the only kind of movement that doesn’t hurt.

Some news: my grandma is being discharged from the hospital today. I’ve been in constant contact with my dad. And it’s a rare feeling of relief when at least one part of life stops being so tense.

Tomorrow I have an MRI of my jaw. On April 18th, I have a follow-up appointment with my gnathologist. Then more scans, final diagnostics, and after that — braces. But before that, there’s still a long chain: checking my teeth, treating cavities, removing wisdom teeth… you just move step by step because there’s no other way.

I’m thinking of doing all of this in Belarus if I go visit my grandma. It’s much cheaper there. Because here, just one MRI costs almost $200.

And yes, that’s also heavy. The constant pressure of money.

On the brighter side, I sold two small paintings and managed to pay for the MRI. And that was one of the few moments where I thought, “okay… I’m actually handling this somehow.”

I’m not complaining. Really.

I’m just telling things as they are.

Because I know a lot of people live in this same state constant fatigue, anxiety, financial stress, self-doubt.

You finally exhale, you think “okay, things are getting better” and then a second later, a new episode hits.

And the worst part is, you never know when the next one is coming. In 40 minutes? Three days? A month?

That feeling of constantly waiting for the next hit… is sometimes scarier than the hit itself.

But there is one thing that’s saving me right now.

I started making things with my hands.

I take rope, a glue gun, and wrap jars, plant pots… turning them into something warm, textured, almost like they have their own character. And it’s strangely meditative.

I also found a website something like eBay, but with vintage and sometimes even free items. And there… I found chairs. Red ones, from 1945.

And now I’m basically in what feels like diplomatic negotiations to get them.

I think they would look perfect in my dining area instead of those plastic chairs.

Right now I’m really into this aesthetic kind of Soviet-era inspired, but not in a “old apartment” way. More like something styled, intentional, with character.

I’ll attach photos so you can see how my room looked three months ago when I first moved in… and how it looks now.

Sometimes it feels like I have no control over my life.

But then I look at my space, and I realize that at least small pieces of reality still respond to me.

And maybe that’s already enough to keep going.

I’ll be back a bit more actively soon.

Right now, I’m just learning how to breathe again ❤️🫂