I was already considering going back to employed work. But in my experience, it always meant losing myself to a certain degree. Being myself to the needs and projections of others.
Projections are always about managing expectations. I was done with that, honestly. Parts of myself committed suicide at that time. Sitting in the middle of the night with stomach aches and sentences like,
“I can’t go on like that. I rather die than go on like that.”. As a very practical and independent type, I was never prone to depression and didn’t think of quitting my physical life at any point.
But I reached a limit. Also, at that point, my mindset about success shifted. First I saw my brother, who thought, with good intention, that he could teach me about success because he has reached it regarding money.
I was like, “What the fuck? I already am successful considering what is important to me,” like silence, time for meditation, time to be in nature, with my cat Milan, or good deep appreciative talks.
Likewise, I had the belief that having money equals success. That was connected with my own definition of success, that “People who are in alignment are successful.” Naturally, I attracted people who had no money and couldn’t pay any for my guidance.
The phrase “Why are we afraid of failure? Because you think success is something you accomplish rather than what you are,” woke me up. At the end, I reached the point: “Being has to be enough to live a life with dignity. Money wise too.”
So I called the bluff of the world/universe and followed the calling I heard for over 4 years. “Just let go and let the universe take care of you.”My money dwindled, but I stayed in trust. In August, I experienced success for the first time in my life.
I was invited to fetch a certain stone. I started to make pendants out of it, and people wanted more than I could manage to create. For the first time in my life, I did something that I loved in all parts. Creating, making pictures, and writing to people—I love it all.
In October, something minor happened: I crossed a border, and the relationship with my landlord went off kilter. So I cancelled the apartment after 9 years without having a new one. I looked for a new one but couldn’t find one that suited me; that wasn’t like the same situation I had before.
Plans were made, plans were cancelled and God laughed yet again, as the saying goes. And so life forced me yet again to do what I wanted. I wanted to travel in the spring of 2023, but didn’t out of a lack of consciousness.
I stopped making plans and surrendered yet again. Furthermore, I stored everything away in 6 QM and found a flight, the only opening life gave me, and here I am at Fuerteventura without a flight back, being a nomad as a 5/1.
All the best, bye!