-I keep trying to push forward, but today I felt clearly that something inside me is asking to stop and be heard.

Good evening, dear readers.
Today was another day on shift, but this time I chose to work from 6 to 2. It gave me a bit of breathing space, but still, I feel like someone is breathing down my neck. Every day I try to wake up and meditate, to find my inner center, to be positive, kind, and joyful—but I can’t. This work schedule makes me feel sick. It makes me feel like a hamster trapped in a cage. I truly can’t take this shift anymore, and it’s only been four days.

Since this week started, my mind has been full of negative thoughts. On top of that, stress is showing up in my body again, especially in my gut. I feel it clearly—my body is full of stress, unresolved discomfort, and aversion toward a job that doesn’t represent me. I also feel anger toward myself, because I’m not making choices based on my own values and standards, but on those of others. I keep living this frantic, misaligned life, forcing myself to swallow it. But the truth is, I can’t swallow it anymore.

Every day I feel a knot in my throat tightening more and more. How far can I go like this? When will this agony end? Even though I read many books about the law of attraction and human psychology, and I know very well that starting the day with negative thoughts only harms me, I still wake up already thinking badly. This creates a domino effect—thoughts feeding other thoughts, minute after minute, hour after hour—until the evening comes and I’m so full of discomfort that I have to release it by training excessively just to suppress it.

The problem is that I’m not solving the root issue. I’m only numbing it. Training and running help me forget for a moment, while my focus is on what I’m doing. But as soon as I come home and I’m alone in my room, the monster under the bed comes out. I feel sadness and melancholy about the situation I’m living in, and about the fact that I’ve been trying to survive like this for two years. Two years where, little by little, like a sandcastle eaten away by the wind, I’ve been breaking down.

I keep going stroke by stroke, with heavy weights tied to my legs. How long can I resist like this? Today after my run, I started feeling pain in my left calf. I really didn’t need that. I’ve been in a good training phase lately, everything going well, and now this shows up. I hope it’s just temporary. Training matters a lot to me. Consistency matters. I want at least one thing in my life right now to keep standing strong.

Today was my mom’s birthday. I bought her a cake—chocolate and mascarpone cream. I’m happy I did that. I owe a lot to my family, even if I struggle to show it. I often respond with bitterness and take things too personally. I know I’m wrong. But when you no longer know who you are, even small things make you irritable. Still, making her happy with that cake meant something to me.

She asked if we could eat pizza together for her birthday, and I said no. My eating disorder, my fear of “cheating,” won today. I know this probably hurt her. I know a pizza wouldn’t ruin my body—but I’m scared. I’m obsessed with how I look, terrified of undoing everything I’ve built. I know this approach is wrong, and I feel guilty. I promised myself I would eat with my family during celebrations, but today I couldn’t. I’ll try to be present at the table anyway, to show my presence even if my mind is elsewhere.

My thoughts today are dark—anger toward my job, toward the environment, toward people I don’t feel aligned with. My mind jumps between that and the urge to just leave everything behind and go as far away as possible. I want to explore. I need to see what’s outside this small bubble I’ve built. I need to find myself.

I want to spend more time in nature, walking alone in the mountains, in silence. I want to meditate on who I am and find answers to this inner pain. I need to find myself—for me, and for the child inside me who keeps trying to guide me toward the path I’m meant to take. Maybe I should listen to that voice more, instead of suppressing it with fear-filled thoughts.

I wish you a good evening, dear readers.
See you tomorrow.
To a better day.