This page was last updated on: 10th of June 2026 There were lots of positive things as well…

Imagine me at 11. Upper middle class white kid. I was receiving THE unconditional love from mom, more pragmatic with dad. Very smart. Not socially. I read about 4-5 books per week.

I lost my innocence at 12 when my friend Ilya introduced me to video games. Pornography ensued.

16 years old. 4 years of being in a group of social outcasts (metalheads, gamers, autists - you name it). It was the first community where I belonged. I could be myself there.

I’m not sure why - but I think this group had a more extreme form of the patterns that tend to happen in these subcultures. We felt ‘different’ and drawn to the taboo as a way of coping.

Fatshaming, homophobia, intimacy-shaming & addiction. Alcoholism & drug abuse. We pushed boundaries. Told each other to kill theirselves (2 people from the group actually did kill themselves 2-3 years after this…). Made jokes about murdering each other’s families. Jokes about rape, pedophilia, other kinds of abuse. One bad moment in particular was when me and my friends recorded multiple songs about these topics (as another ‘joke’).

“At least we are cool - we drink a full bottle of wodka at our parties (couple guys around the campfire). Not like those normies who say they’re cool but only drink like 2-3 beers.”

Partly these energies weren’t my fault - it’s just how trauma works. But partly I also had some moments where I knew I was acting against my heart. Against my own integrity. And I still chose to continue. Why? I don’t know. Why does someone choose against their own heart?

I remember patterns of guilt and shame which spiralled into self-hate. Especially after recording the songs I kinda felt like my life was ruined and it didn’t really matter anymore. I could just keep spiralling.

17 years old. I was in a state of light / medium depression when I got tinnitus after one particularly loud heavy metal concert where I was not wearing earbuds. I thought the loud ringing noise in my ears would wear off like it did before - but after a week I realized it was permanent. I couldn’t handle the loss. The self-mutiliation I had inadvertently caused. The noise, but mostly the thoughts about the noise drove me nuts. I did everything I could to flee the silence. Playing music all day, planning my calendar completely full, white noise, drinking.

A permanent state of flight. Draining. Self destructing. Obviously it collapsed rather quickly.

I spent 2 months in bed, lethargically watching the Walking Dead.

I was done lying in bed. One of my band members told me not to forget the importance of music in my life. It might have been the start of a spark.

I resumed an intense life. 80 hour workweeks. Freelancing. Deciding I wanted a girlfriend before I die so heavily investing into becoming more social. Which meant drinking. A lot of drinking. And I just completely overpressured myself. Signed myself up for festivals as a volunteer (social anxiety through the roof which I avoided by drinking even more).

Burnout symptoms were showing. I could not keep this up. Back to the bed. 14 hours of sleep a day. Depression, bordering a suicidal state. I spontaneously decided to go on a 4 week interrail trip as a last-resort kind of thing. I decided on saturday I’d leave the next morning. My mother asked me “Please don’t step in front of a train?”, before I left.

I had actually gotten more social through my efforts. And met people that supported me. An amazing person who became my roommate. I still had purity - but had become an extremely toxic energy at the same time.

On the trip I expanded this energy even more. I was talking to a lot of strangers (mostly, but not every time through drinking). I gained some insights. Felt the loneliness. Got laid for the first time. Realized there is more to the world than the aftermath of my high school life / limitations of my hometown community. I actually turned stuff around. Fixed some of my toxicity. Made new friends. Started living with 2 amazing roomies. Started dancing. Got my first relationship with Elina who is to this day still extremely close to my soul. I managed to mostly keep my ongoing depression out of the relationship somehow. But it did end up showing when, after 9 months of being together, we went on a 4-week holiday to a German island. I couldn’t handle the silence on the island. I spent most of the time in slumber or in the tent or faking being social. I left 2 days earlier in order to get a small break from this to go couchsurfing. It completely drained me, the island experience, and then the couchsurfing. I was at my limit - and after 1-2 days of getting to being at least recovered enough to finish the last couple days of the trip with Elina - my concussion happened.

I did not drink enough water and had eaten a bad herring. This had caused bowel infection - which drew most of the blood from my brain. I had gotten up in the middle of the night to pee (once again at a couchsurfing host) and a wave of nauseau caused me to collapse, with my head straight on to the sink and then onto the floor. Luckily Elina heard - I had been unconscious / in another dimension for a few minutes when she appeared and called the ambulance. I spent a night in the hospital (alone, during COVID) and then was released with no major issues.

I stayed in bed for a week or so - thinking my energy would recover. But then it slowly started dropping. I had asked too much of my body over the last few years. I panicked. I was affraid of what I’d done, the effects of all that had happened on my life. I became affraid of my body and of all its sensations. I fled. Deep, deep down, or in particular: to a small place in my brain where I wouldn’t have to feel anything. That’s where I would remain, and continuously go back to over the next few months. I’m actually not sure - I might still be there.