Some questions can’t be answered yet, no matter how many times we turn them over in our mind. And constantly searching for a solution only creates anxiety.

Maybe you're trying to figure out a new career direction. Maybe a relationship ended and your daily life suddenly looks different. Maybe you're somewhere between who you were and whoever comes next, because you feel the need to completely reinvent yourself. Or maybe it's all of those at once, like it is for me right now.

This can be a phase where you're living with plenty of ideas and dreams in your head, as well as plenty of unanswered questions, doubts and fears. Or even worse, with no dreams at all. I say worse because I truly believe we all need at least some dreams in our lives.

At the moment, I’m navigating a separation. Returning from maternity leave without a clear picture of what comes next. Questions about work, dreams of a new career, and open questions surrounding my current solopreneur company. Wondering where home will be in a few months.

So I know this kind of uncertainty is exhausting, and lonely too. It carries grief and anxiety, but part of it is simply the mental weight of carrying open questions while still trying to live your everyday life and plan your future. Your mind keeps trying to figure things out and come up with a plan, because uncertainty doesn’t feel safe.

When you're living in this in-between phase and feeling a bit stuck, it feels frustrating and discouraging to read advice like:

1. Figure out what you really want
   (well, thank you!)

2. Think of what you enjoyed doing as a child if direction feels unclear

   (quite many things… reading, playing, acting, sports, playing piano, puzzles, watching videos…???)

3. Make a plan

   (hmmm… I want to put my life together in a way that allows me to truly enjoy it; to have enough time for my children, hobbies, friends, myself, relationship, household responsibilities, and all the other obligations of everyday life, while still earning enough money to live comfortably and occasionally go on holidays. And most importantly, to be healthy, feel energized and do work that genuinely inspires me and feels meaningful.)

4. Focus on what you can control

   (Yes, I’ve learned this lesson. A couple of times... And in the end, it’s really a matter of what I actually want to put my energy into.)

5. Trust the process

   (uhhh… sometimes this can be really hard.)

I admit it. There’s truth in all of that advice. But none of it really addresses what it feels like living in the middle of in-between, something unfinished. Many of the writings related to beeing stuck or in uncertainty are addressed to give solutions to somehow unsolve this phase. To find the answers and go pass. And sometimes, reading this kind of advice can leave you feeling even worse, like you’re somehow failing at this phase because you feel even more overwhelmed afterward. So I believe all of that is not the right approach for this phase. At least not at the beginning, when you’ve just stepped into the threshold.

So this text is less about advice and more about what I’ve noticed while actually living through these in-between phases myself. And because I truly know how lonely these phases can feel, if this makes you feel even a little less alone, I’m genuinely glad.

Not every question can be answered immediately

As I said at the very beginning, sometimes it helps to acknowledge that not all open questions have an answer right now, or even next week. Sometimes you reach a point in life where the information simply isn’t available yet. The problem isn’t that you’re not trying hard enough or that you haven’t found the right angle. The answer just doesn’t exist yet.

And it’s not necessarily about being too afraid to move (as you may have heard). Sometimes feeling stuck is simply about not knowing which direction to take, while wanting the next step to feel right and aligned, even if it feels scary.

In this in-between phase it’s good to remind ourselves, that this is not for finding the right answers and making a clear plan. In a way, this phase is more that we are learning to tolerate uncertainty and open questions.

Choosing an answer just to stop the feeling of having none

At some point, when uncertainty gets intense enough, the temptation is to just pick something. Any answer. A decision, a plan, a direction… anything to make the open-endedness stop. There is even psychological term for this. It’s called premature closure. The moment we force resolution before we’re ready, simply because the discomfort has become too hard to sit with.

But a decision made from anxiety doesn’t always resolve the anxiety. Sometimes it just gives it a new address. I belive this is one of the ways we end up being somewhere we didn’t actually want to be. And to end up replaying the same patterns and relearning the same lessons in life.

The threshold is not a waiting room to escape as quickly as possible. And as I write this, I realize I’ve never been very good at waiting. I’m a bit impatient. Maybe that’s also why this phase feels so difficult. But learning to stay with discomfort is where real change happens. So I remind myself not to move through this phase just to get out of it.

Long periods of waiting can turn into paralysis

At the same time, this phase is a double-edged sword. Uncertainty can quietly become an excuse not to move at all. I lived this during my burnout a few years ago.

There is a difference between patience and paralysis. Between sitting with the unknown and postponing your life indefinitely. When everything feels uncertain, it becomes easy to delay every decision.

And that’s not just “you being bad at decision-making.” Stress also narrows your thinking. When uncertainty continues for a long time, your brain shifts into a more protective, survival-oriented state, making it harder to prioritize, think clearly, and make decisions, even small ones.

Over time, this can also lead to decision fatigue. When your mind is constantly evaluating risks, possibilities, and unanswered questions, even everyday choices begin to feel mentally exhausting. You may eventually look up and realize you have been waiting for months, or even years.

That has another kind of cost, too. I’ve realized that waiting slowly erodes your sense of agency. You stop feeling like someone who actively participates in your own life and decisions. And when uncertainty, fear of change, and grief over what is ending are already present, losing agency adds something heavier: a sense of helplessness. You begin to doubt yourself and your ability to move forward. You start losing faith in your own capability.

So the question becomes:

• How do you keep moving while the bigger answers are still unclear?

Usually, in much smaller ways than you think.

And another important question to pay attention to:

• How do you release the quiet stress attached to this phase, even if you haven’t fully acknowledged it yet?

Often, the first step is simply noticing it's there. And then, anything that reminds your nervous system that you're safe, it’s safe to just be. Movement, rest, and sleep are good release for the stress.

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A new direction rarely arrives as perfect clarity

A new life direction often begins as a small pull, not a big realization. A bit more energy, a bit more curiosity. Relief, interest. Something that quietly keeps returning to your attention.

Often, it’s less about knowing exactly what you want and more about noticing what feels more true and alive than the alternatives. I’ve noticed it doesn’t feel like tightness in the chest or a knot in the throat, but more like a subtle sense of excitement in the body. Something that genuinely pulls at you a little, beneath the doubts, fears and hesitations and sometimes thoughts of impossibility.

And remember, we don’t need to turn that feeling into a full plan immediately. Usually it’s enough to follow it a little. Try something. Pay attention to the reaction, and then try again.

Movement matters more than perfect certainty

Even small steps toward a new direction help maintain a sense of agency and strengthen your faith in your own capability. A new direction often takes shape through repeated small movements toward what keeps calling you, even while hesitation and doubt are still present. Even while your mind is still searching for the right answer and perfect clarity.

I believe that is why it can feel so hard to simply “trust the process.” There is no clear moment when the process begins, only your decision to engage with it. And there is no clear map of what the process will look like, only your commitment to stay with it. To keep trying, keep exploring, and keep adjusting along the way.

Change can create a new relationship with yourself

Unwanted change doesn’t only take things away. Often, it exposes parts of yourself that were buried beneath old roles, routines, or identities.

Long relationships shape us. Parenthood changes us. Sometimes we look up and realize we have been living inside a version of ourselves that formed around someone else’s rhythm, or an identity we grew into without consciously choosing it. Or perhaps an identity we once chose, but that no longer fits who we are becoming.

When those structures begin to shift, something new becomes possible; the chance to ask, perhaps for the first time in years:

Who do I actually want to be from here?

Even when change is painful, it can also open new possibilities. And often, it becomes easier to change ourselves when our environment is already changing too. That’s why I think it can be helpful, and even freeing, to see this phase as a new kind of dedication to yourself and your own wellbeing.

I don’t yet fully know the answer to that question myself, but I am starting to feel the shape of something new forming. Still somewhat unclear, still in progress. But I can feel the pull, and I can see several possible next steps beginning to feel genuinely interesting and alive.

More and more, I’m beginning to trust that clarity is something that forms gradually through movement, not something we solve before we begin.

Becoming through uncertainty

If you’re somewhere in the middle of an in-between phase right now, the disorientation you feel makes complete sense. Uncertainty this deep can feel truly heavy. It asks something of you that has become especially difficult in a society that constantly demands plans and certainty: to keep living, deciding, and moving forward while carrying questions that still have no answers.

After reading this, I want you to remember that living with uncertainty isn’t something we solve. It’s something we move through imperfectly, slowly, and often without knowing whether we’re moving in the right direction at all.

There is no rush to figure everything out or force yourself into a clear plan. Take time for yourself and for your thoughts. Prepare yourself for the fact that not knowing may feel heavy at times. And still, remind yourself that clarity rarely arrives before the next step is taken, but often because those steps were taken.

So when you begin to feel a pull toward something, take small and courageous steps toward it — for the sake of your own self-belief!

And because clarity forms this way, through movement and lived experience rather than thinking alone, it’s important to be gentle with yourself in the process. Not every step will move you forward. Some may take you sideways, or even backward, and that is not failure. Sometimes stepping outside your current situation is exactly what gives you the clarity to understand why you wanted to stay there in the first place, or why you no longer do.

We can’t get everything right in advance, but we can learn to stay connected to ourselves as we move through these phases. Learn to make decisions that feel aligned with who we are, without treating them as permanent. To allow our direction to change as clarity grows through experience. And to allow our experiences to change us, helping us become more like the versions of ourselves we truly want to be.

I wish you all the best for your current situation, patience with the open questions you’re currently living with, and the courage to begin taking small steps toward a new direction if you’ve started to feel that pull.

Thank you for reading! I truly appreciate your presence here.

It has honestly been so easy and fun! Have you tried it yourself?

The poem that I turned into a song, was the poem I wrote earlier this week in a collaboration post Self-Compassion | Poem with (check that out too). The theme is about self-compassion, its importance, and also how difficult it can sometimes be.

I ended up making two different versions of the song. You can listen to both versions through the links below. At the end of this post, I will also include the original poem that I adapted into this song.

A: Never Enough

Listen song: Never Enough

B: Never Enough (Alternative Version)

Listen song: Never Enough (Alt. Version)

I’d love to hear which one you prefer :)

Or whether you like the song at all.

Here is an original poem that I edited into a song by adding a chorus and making a few other adjustments. This is my second poem ever that I have turned into a song. Maybe I’ll publish and share my first poem as well one day… :)

Self-compassion / Poem

Self-compassion,
how hard it can be?
To give yourself some grace,
and set your self-criticism free.

To say the good things
about yourself and your work,
to give compliments in the mirror
without the dismissive smirk.

Self-compassion,
it really is a skill to know,
some have learned it young,
while others never let it grow.

In the name of strong will,
they keep themselves tough,
wearing strength like armor
never quite feeling enough.

Always just pushing through,
always forcing care aside,
soon strength is the only thing they do,
while emotions learn to hide.

“But I am not soft,
nor weak in any way.
I’m hardworking and strong,
just pushing myself every day.”

Just a tiny warning word,
Sincerely given to you,
you can’t make life feel good,
if self-compassion is something you can’t do.

Gradually,
you turn your whole life blue,
believe me,
I’ve lived it through too.

Mistakes and regrets
belong to everyone alive,
and without self-compassion
they quietly survive.

They sit upon your shoulders,
heavy, cold, and deep.
They enjoy you pushing harder,
slowly disturbing your sleep.

And you just push and push it through,
with no time for rest.
No kindness meant for you,
just growing tightness in the chest.

Nothing ever feels enough,
though you just gave your best,
you finish one more exhausting day,
at home feeling like a guest.

And sorry if I sound a bit mad,
but can’t you really see?
You are precious the way you are,
it’s enough to simply be.

No need to earn what’s good,
through endless work and strain.
Don’t deny your human needs,
only to prove you can take the pain.

We all need warmth and care,
when nights grow too dark and long,
someone near to hold and share,
even the strongest need a place to belong.

You could set the blue mood free,
let acceptance light the way,
by allowing yourself to see,
the self you’ve lost so far away.

Maybe this is where it starts,
even if the way feels unclear,
listening to your feelings and heart,
learning to face your deepest fear.

Could you learn to gently mend,
instead of tearing yourself apart?
Could you become your own best friend,
finally stand beside your own heart?

-Kirsi-Maria-

Thank you for being here 💜

I hope you enjoyed the song!

Lately, I’ve been facing a lot of uncertainty. I’ve felt confused and unsure, and I haven’t written here in a few weeks either. So this Sunday reflection is arriving on a Friday instead, just so you could feel a little confused too...

I’m about to share something personal, and I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about what I actually want to share about it.Maybe you recognize this feeling too, especially if you create content online in some form: That slight hesitation around how much of your own life you want, or dare, to put into words for everyone to read. After all, everyone interprets texts through their own context, and your words never land on someone exactly like you imagine. And when the subject is deeply personal and delicate, you might feel even more vulnerable sharing them.

But this entire newsletter is partly built around sharing my own process and thoughts in the middle of my own life changes, so for that reason too, I want to share what has been going on in my life.

The Rollercoaster of Emotions

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been processing a separation. My partner and I are already living separately, and you can probably imagine that this season has been a complete emotional rollercoaster. Someone else might describe it as an emotional storm, but to me it has felt more like a rollercoaster.

The emotions have shifted rapidly, and my mood has been lurching up and down constantly. If you’ve ever experienced something similar; the ending of a long-term relationship, or simply the loss of someone from your life, you know that above all, it is an enormous grieving process. And grief contains many different emotions.

If you are currently in the middle of a major life transition yourself, whether it’s a divorce, the loss of a relationship, a significant career change, or some other turning point in life, you probably know how uncomfortable and difficult this kind of undefined in-between state can feel. The old and familiar is left behind, and the new and unknown opens up ahead.

And that’s scary too. You don’t really know which direction you want, or dare, to move toward. Your mind keeps returning to the old. You might find yourself going through endless “what ifs.” You know you should start looking forward, but making decisions can suddenly become surprisingly difficult.

Maybe grief and the process of letting go are exactly what make these kinds of life situations feel so confusing and emotionally overwhelming. At the same time as uncertainty and not-knowing about the future suddenly enter your life, you are also trying to process grief, fear, disappointment, hope, sadness, relief, guilt, regret, longing, and countless other emotions that may even contradict each other from one moment to the next. One moment you may feel calm and accepting, and the next completely overwhelmed again.

It is already difficult enough to find stable footing in uncertainty alone. But in the middle of all that, life still somehow expects and requires as well you to keep functioning. To make decisions. To plan your future. To organize practical things. To carry responsibilities. To keep moving forward, even when emotionally a part of you is still trying to process what was lost.

A Conscious Pause

I’m grateful to myself for making the decision to step away from social media when the reality of the situation truly hit me. I stayed away from all the apps, and at most I checked Substack a few times a week. I did it consciously, because I wanted to fully receive and process my emotions exactly as they came.

It’s so easy to escape difficult emotions and numb the mind through digital devices. To scroll endlessly on your phone or fill your mind with podcasts or movies to distract your thoughts.

I knew, and truly felt, that facing my thoughts and emotions was (and still, from time to time is) extremely uncomfortable and painful, but I didn’t want my emotions to be constantly triggered and overstimulated by social media feeds. I know how easily scrolling can lead you into feeding certain emotions within yourself, whether it’s anger, insecurity, or feelings of inferiority and failure created by comparison. Especially in this situation, I didn’t want that. I knew it would only prolong my process and at times worsen my emotional state.

When Rest Starts Turning Into Stagnation

Now, after some weeks, I’ve started noticing that something is changing. Even though this pause and emotional processing has clearly been necessary and good for me, I’m also beginning to recognize another feeling emerging. A small sense of being stuck is slowly creeping in, a bit similar to what I experienced after my burnout.

There are currently so many open questions in my life. Housing, work, organizing everyday life, arrangements with the children... nothing is fully clear yet. And even though I understand that complete clarity is probably not going to arrive anytime soon, I still notice that my mind keeps waiting for it.

My mind constantly tries to solve things and force clarity into the situation, even though I know that it simply isn’t possible right now. I’m not going to suddenly reach some magical moment where everything clicks into place and I know exactly what to do. Right now, many areas of my life are simply unclear. The new reality is still mostly a mystery, and honestly, a slightly frightening one too.

Still, I’m gradually beginning to recognize a certain restlessness within myself. Simply waiting and standing still is starting to feel uncomfortable. Clearly, the break from social media, combined with the quite intense emotional processing I’ve been doing, has done its work. At some point, a necessary pause and moment of rest can slowly start turning into waiting, hesitating, and overthinking, and it begins to take away your sense of agency in your own life. It starts to feel as though you are simply being carried by the situation, waiting for a solution, instead of steering your own life forward.

And that doesn’t feel good.

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Small Movements in the Middle of Uncertainty

So I’ve been trying to make small movements forward, even though everything is still unclear. And in a situation like this, some of it is, of course, also driven by necessity. For example, I’ve started looking for work, because my maternity leave ends in less than a month.

I hadn’t fully decided when or how I wanted to return to work anyway, but I imagined it would happen a little later. Now this situation has created a certain urgency around it.

I’ve sent out a few job applications. At the same time, I still have my own business, which I stepped away from during maternity leave, but the income from it is too irregular for me to rely on it financially right now. And then there’s life coaching, which I genuinely would love to start building further. I studied for my coaching certification during maternity leave, and I’ve dreamed of gradually shifting my engineering career more toward coaching.

And at the same time, in the middle of all these work-related questions, I have very conflicting feelings about taking our baby to daycare while he is still so small, under one year old. The thought of him spending longer days in daycare than I spend at work doesn’t feel good at all, especially if I start working full-time.

But maybe I wouldn’t need to work full-time… (?)

And once again I find myself thinking about living arrangements and the costs of a new life that I still don’t fully know yet. My mind keeps trying to think through (and solve!) all of this, and I notice how indecisive I still feel. And I realize that in some ways my mind is trying to keep me safe by finding certainty through answers I don’t yet have. The unknown is scary and it would feel safer to have a clear plan.

It feels as though on one hand I’m making small choices and movements forward, but at the same time part of me is simply waiting for some option to “work out.” As if, if one of the jobs responded positively, I would maybe follow that direction. And only then start thinking more carefully about different scenarios. And at the same time, I wonder whether I’m still leaving these decisions somewhat up to chance. Yet I also know that life does not always give us everything we want, no matter how carefully we plan…

Maybe you also have something in your life that simply feels wrong, yet your life situation somehow still pushes you toward it? And you desperately try to think of other options too.

Sometimes we become blind to our own possibilities, and speaking things out loud, writing about them, or discussing them with someone can help. Sometimes I find clarity simply by seriously considering the complete opposite option for a moment, even if it initially feels completely absurd. Try it.

Letting Go Without Drifting

Over the past year, I’ve spent a lot of time reflecting on the theme of letting go. And honestly, this now feels like the ultimate test of it in my life!

Part of that is letting go of control. I recognize how easy it would be to slip into controlling mode right now, just to feel a little safer. But I truly do not want to forcefully push my life toward some new direction right now. I don’t want to rush into decisions simply because I struggle to sit with uncertainty. I still want to listen to my inner self; to what I truly want, and to what my values are asking of me, even while balancing many responsibilities.

So I remind myself to let go of control, and also of the subtle urge to start “performing” this separation. And that is exactly what makes it so difficult: letting go of control without ending up simply drifting through your own life.

I also constantly remind myself to restore my trust in life, and in God too. That gives me strength. That's what carries me, even when I can't see where.

And Then There's Still the Dream

I’ve also been wondering whether I should give myself a few months to fully focus on coaching. To use my savings to build something that genuinely feels like my own.

And at the same time, I know the numbers don't quite add up. And realistically, it would probably be wiser to save them for something reasonable in this situation. (Like living?!) ”But do we always have to be so reasonable?!” Some small voice inside me keeps whispering…

I still don’t know the answer.

I think I already mentioned that I’ve been quite confused, indecisive, and a little stuck in my thoughts lately… :) But considering my situation, I’m allowing myself to admit that it is perfectly OK.

Even though pausing is important, and has its place in life, we cannot stay there forever. At some point we have to start moving again, even if the new direction is still unclear. And besides, clarity never arrives simply through waiting, that much I’ve learned from experience too. Small movements create new experiences and perspectives, and through them, little by little, clarity begins to emerge.

Self-Awareness in the Middle of Change

I also want to remind you that we are all different. Some of us need more time to process things than others. And our life situation affects that enormously as well. If life is very busy or overwhelming, there simply may not be the same kind of space for thoughts and emotions as there is in a season where there is more time and less pressure.

That’s why it’s so important to also be gentle and compassionate with yourself. And not to compare yourself to others or even to your previous self. Sometimes the mind feeds us annoying lies that we should already be further along. That we should already be healed / recovered / decided / moved on or whatever it may be, without taking into account our current life situation, the stress created by our environment, or our current health state and capacity.

Being home with the baby has given me a lot of time to sit with my thoughts, but very little time to do concrete things unrelated to childcare and housework. It has been both a gift and a challenge. I’ve been able to process this situation and my emotions deeply, exactly as I wanted to. But sometimes I’ve wished I could simply direct my thoughts toward work or some task for a long period of time, just so I wouldn’t have to think about all these emotions connected to the separation for a while. But in this season of life, that simply isn’t possible, and I just have to move forward within the realities of this situation.

The Importance of Self-Awareness

I believe one of the most important things and skills in life is learning to know ourselves. Learning to recognize when we need to pause, when we need rest, why we react the way we do, and when a small movement forward is exactly what we need. Learning to recognize what we truly want and long for in the first place.

This entire Within Change journey really began from this desire;

The desire to know myself better while building a life that feels true to me and pursuing my dreams. And at the same time, to encourage you too to pause and reconnect with yourself and your dreams.

Resilience by Living Through

I’ve also noticed that even though this situation has been difficult in many ways, I haven’t completely drowned in or become stuck in my emotions the same way I did a few years ago after my mother passed away. That tells me that I’ve at least learned something and grown during these past years. I’ve gained tools and resilience for handling difficult life situations.

I’ve also realized that I have truly wonderful friends and sisters around me. I’ve been able to share my thoughts and feelings with them, and they’ve helped me process all of this. I’ve also been able to talk openly about things with my (ex)partner, and that too has helped a lot in this situation. I’ve also already had some time to process everything with a therapist.

Now that I think about it, I’ve actually had really good support around me through all of this within this short period of time. And from the very beginning, I consciously decided to actively seek and ask for support.

Ha, although who knows what kind of emotional mess or despair I’ll be in a month from now… But somehow, at this moment, I feel relatively calm and somewhat trusting too (considering the overall situation), and I’m genuinely glad for that.

I truly do not know what will happen in my near future, and right now I’m learning how to live with uncertainty. I’m learning how to live in this in-between state. And perhaps that's exactly what my next piece will be about…

For You Who Are Also Living in an In-Between Season

If you too are currently standing at some kind of turning point in life, and feel confused, uncertain, or stuck, maybe these questions could help you:

• Do I need more rest and stillness right now, or a small movement forward?

• Am I unconsciously waiting for clarity that realistically is not yet coming?

• Is there an area in my life where I’m trying to create safety through control?

• Is there an are in my life am I confusing letting go of control with losing agency?

You can still trust,

Another kind of day will yet arrive,
At moments, an ever more beautiful dusk,
A castle is built again from clouds,
Even the darkest evening will soften.

And you can trust,

There is safety somewhere,
Even if you fall — even if you sink.
You will find somewhere there is a bottom.
You will understand — there lies your strength.

You grow stronger.
You rise.

Soon you will taste summer again,
a brighter flame returning to life.

And you can trust,

Soon the days will move again,
in the same rhythm,
as time folds you into its embrace.

You feel peace,
The fears have retreated.
You notice,
The meadows are blooming again.

You are in your strength,
You are afloat.

You feel the warmth of the sun on your face,
You see the wisps of cloud in the sky.

You are home.

This Sunday’s reflection came to me as a poem.

I hope it brings comfort to you, who are standing at the edge of great challenges, changes, uncertainty, or fear in your life.

Don’t close your heart, don’t extinguish your hope.

A brighter day will come again 💛

Over the past few years, I’ve become more mindful of what I consume, not just in food but in life overall. I’ve been reducing additives in my diet, which is one of the reasons I prefer baking my own treats.

I follow a gluten-free diet, and I’ve noticed that many store-bought gluten-free products tend to be filled with additives and often taste slightly artificial. Baking at home has become a way for me to choose differently and create something that feels and tastes more natural.

At the same time, I’ve also given myself the freedom to fully enjoy homemade treats.

So here’s a recipe for you as well.

Simple and delicious and it works beautifully as a gluten-free version too.

The total baking time is approximately 1.5 hours, about half of which is oven time.

Ingredients

Cake

• 200 g butter or baking margarine

• 300 ml (3 dl) all-purpose flour (gluten free flour works as well)

• 200 ml (2 dl) sugar

• 2 tsp vanilla sugar

• 2 tsp baking soda

• 3 eggs

• 2-3 organic oranges

• 150-200 g sour cream or crème fraîche

Orange Syrup

• 2 tbsp sugar

• 100 ml (1 dl) orange juice

• remaining orange zest

Frosting

• 200 g plain cream cheese

• 75 ml (¾ dl) powdered sugar

• juice of ½ lemon

For the pan

• butter or margarine

• breadcrumbs

Instructions

1. Prepare the pan
   Grease a 1.5 L (9×5 inch) loaf pan and coat with breadcrumbs.

2. Make the batter
   Melt the butter and let it cool slightly.
   In a bowl, mix flour, sugar, vanilla sugar, and baking soda.

3. Mix wet ingredients
   In another bowl, whisk the eggs.
   Wash the oranges, finely grate the zest, and squeeze the juice.
   Add:

   • melted butter

   • 50 ml orange juice

   • half of the zest

   • sour cream

4. Combine
   Mix the dry ingredients into the wet ingredients until smooth.

5. Bake
   Pour into the pan and bake at 175°C (350°F) for 35–40 minutes, until done.
   Turn out onto a rack while still slightly warm.

1. Soak the cake
   Bring the syrup ingredients to a boil.
   Spoon the hot syrup over the warm cake.

2. Make the frosting
   Mix cream cheese, powdered sugar, and lemon juice until smooth.
   Spread over the cooled cake.

3. Optional
   Garnish with lemon zest.

Nutritional Information (per serving)

• Energy: 360 kcal / 1506 kJ

• Fat: 21.4 g

  • of which saturated: 13.3 g

• Carbohydrates: 35.7 g

  • of which sugars: 23.8 g

• Fibre: 1.2 g

• Protein: 5.3 g

• Salt: 1.1 g

Original recipe source (slightly adapted) from a Finnish recipe by Yhteishyvä:

https://yhteishyva.fi/reseptit/helppo-appelsiinikakku/3yXE8dAmeGmedDZ57dGYT7

If you try this recipe, I’d truly love to hear how it turned out and what you thought 🧡

Leave a comment

This is my first food-related post, and I’d love to hear if you’d like to see this kind of content again from time to time...? 💛

What makes a celebration a celebration?

Food is a central part of it. It always plays a significant role in celebrations. Perhaps a celebration also includes some kind of decoration and a bit more “effort” than usual? Because doesn’t a celebration always require just a little more than ordinary everyday life? At least something small.

And what about guests? Does a celebration always require many people? Or even any guests at all? Can you celebrate entirely on your own? Probably, although shared joy is multiplied joy, as the saying goes.

I am somewhat the opposite in nature compared to my mother. I don’t have that much energy to put into decorating or making the home look beautiful. And it definitely doesn’t come naturally to me. I don’t perceive my surroundings as visually as she did. Before she passed, she even thought in detail about what her heavenly room might look like.

I’ve never really had much energy to put into festive cooking either. I don’t particularly enjoy cooking. But it’s something I’m learning to enjoy more. And it’s not one of my strengths, just like it wasn’t really my mother’s either. My father was the one who made the delicious meals in our family. It feels like, in adulthood and with my own family, I’ve mostly done what is necessary during traditional holidays. And during those yearly celebrations, I notice that I mostly do things for the children. I think about what would be nice for them.

For example, I know that at Easter my children want to go out “virpomaan” . It’s an old Easter tradition In Finland, where children dress up as Easter witches ( or some other character) and decorate willow branches with colorful feathers and ornaments. They visit neighbors and say a traditional rhyme to wish health and good luck. In return, they usually receive candy.

So we go together to pick willow branches and decorate them. This year they went for the first time partly on their own.

We also buy Easter treats. We might go see an Easter bonfire. I also thought about going to an Easter church service, but we’ll see if I still have time.

This year, however, I wanted to put a bit more effort into food as well, unlike before. Even though I know the children don’t really care about that. Simple and easy is what tastes best to them. Minced meat and macaroni, or fries and fish sticks. But now I wanted to make at least something a little extra. For myself, and perhaps partly to honor my mother’s memory.

Mum knew something I’m only now beginning to understand

I’ve noticed that I’ve started to appreciate many qualities in my mother in a completely different way only after she passed away. She really knew how to create a celebration. I think she did it precisely through that extra effort. She cleaned and made the space beautiful, prepared the food and a beautiful table setting. Even if the food itself wasn’t anything particularly gourmet, she had thought through all the details of the moment.

And truly, the visual side seemed to come naturally to her. Her style was somewhat rustic-romantic, abundant, beautiful, and cozy. Also colorful. She had an eye for colors, and everything always seemed to be in perfect harmony.

And so today I decided to bake an Easter cake. I chose a moist orange cake with a powdered sugar and cream cheese frosting. And it turned out really good! It became a lovely coffee cake and recipe worked well gluten-free too.

We’re not having any guests, since part of our family is still sick. But I wanted to bake the cake anyway, even if just for our own family. Just to make a little extra effort, and through that bring at least a small sense of celebration into this day.

When it comes to creating a beautiful table setting, I still have a lot to learn, because I so rarely pay attention to it. I notice that I don’t really even have the necessary things for it, like tablecloths and such. And I don’t really have an eye for composition or arrangement either. But it’s a skill I can learn!

For some time now, I have actually been trying consciously to make small everyday moments a bit more special. I’ve noticed that when I put in a little extra effort in small everyday moments—whether it’s food, the environment, or even a snack moment—they feel more meaningful.

In family life with children, especially during the baby year, anything that feels even slightly “extra” is easily left undone, because time and energy are limited. In busy and stressful times, it’s a good thing to know how to simplify and lower the bar. But if everything extra is left out, something gradually disappears from everyday life. A certain kind of sparkle fades. Only necessity remains, and that begins to feel boring and empty.

Or perhaps this is one of the latest signs of recovery after my heavy and consuming years, and I am beginning to find new layers of aliveness in my everyday life again. Conscious actions in my daily life that bring joy and meaning, sometimes even a small sense of celebration, while still being completely ordinary.

At the same time, I notice that this kind of doing is also somehow restorative. Focusing on one simple everyday task brings balance to constant digital overwhelm.

Surely the attitude behind the action also matters. It’s different whether I do something out of obligation and routine, ticking off a list, or from a genuine desire to try something new, to make a bit of effort, and perhaps bring joy—if only to myself, and maybe a little to others as well.

And these are not big things. Just small, individual moments here and there. But gradually, more and more, as a steady flow in the middle of my everyday life.

Like an Easter cake and a slightly more festive coffee moment today. Maybe a new recipe tomorrow. One thoroughly cleaned space next week, with a small bouquet of fresh flowers on the table.

And little by little, I notice that everyday life becomes alive in a different way.

Like tiny little moments of celebration in the middle of ordinary life.

Because that too may be one of the things that makes a celebration a celebration.

Aliveness.

Thank you for reading my Sunday reflections. I hope you enjoyed it.

What, in your opinion, makes a celebration a celebration?

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A sleepless night

I wasn’t sleeping last night. Our baby has a flu, and he woke up before I had even fallen asleep before midnight. He couldn’t fall asleep and was crying every now and then. Eventually, I was just walking around the house with him in my lap. At some point I got so tired and frustrated that I started listening to a podcast through my earbuds while we were walking around.

Finally, when he fell asleep around 3 AM, I had just started watching my first YouTube videos from last summer, including the very first one I made 9 months ago. Suddenly I didn’t want to go to sleep and instead watched those videos. I stayed awake for more than another hour.

We avoid what makes us feel uncomfortable

I haven’t watched the videos after publishing them, because I remember feeling really awkward and a bit embarrassed. And I knew those same feelings would come up if I watched them again.

I have been thinking about whether I should just quietly make all of them private. But I haven’t done that, because I remember setting myself a firm goal to publish 100 videos, and I’ve only made around 10% of that. I’m still very much behind on that goal.

But that’s not the goal I got reminded of last night.

The uncomfortable feelings we expect are often exaggerated

I have to admit that even the idea of watching those videos again made me feel anxious and awkward. But this time the feeling beforehand was clearly smaller than before.

Maybe it’s because lately I’ve felt more self-compassion than usual, or maybe that thought had just been in the back of my mind long enough.

Either way, when I got the idea to watch those old videos, I didn’t turn away. I stayed with it. And while I sat down to nurse our baby, I pressed play.

And I noticed something new, something I didn’t expect. It wasn’t as awkward as I thought it would be. Time had clearly magnified that feeling of unease in my mind. And maybe I truly have grown more compassionate toward myself over the past months.

And the most surprising part?

I was even a bit proud of myself while watching those videos. (!) And for me, that’s a lot.

I remember how incredibly difficult it was for me to make them. How much time and work it took, and above all, the mental capacity to face all the unpleasant feelings and self-doubt that came with it. And which had apparently stayed with me until now.

I also remember that just a couple of months before making those videos, I had been in a very deep place for several months with post-pregnancy depression. I wonder how, and from where, I found the mental capacity and energy to start so many new things in my life at that time.

I was quietly satisfied with that past version of me who made those videos. Even though I could see many flaws in them, I wasn’t focusing on those. I felt gratitude for the version of me who had the courage to start and jump into something new and unknown.

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We explain so well what we avoid

I haven’t stayed consistent with making YouTube videos after our baby was born. Instead, I pivoted to Substack, and I have been consistent here. I’m “just” writing, and this doesn’t require filming and editing, so it’s a lot less work.

Maybe it has been the right choice with a baby. Or maybe I was making excuses because I couldn’t improve fast enough to make videos with less effort and time. Maybe a bit of both.

Either way, I got new motivation after watching my past self. Motivation to express myself, to return to making videos again. Most of all, I got motivation to push myself further again.

Sometimes we subtly drift away from our goals

Finally, I watched my very first video too, the one I felt the most awkward about. And I got reminded of the one goal I had completely forgotten.

In that video, I set a goal. And I expressed it with such excitement.

“Who knows, maybe I’ll have my first coaching clients in English within 12 months.”

I didn’t remember setting that goal. And yes, it was a bit wishful, but still a goal.

We move our own deadlines without noticing

Yes, I have completed my life coach qualification since then. Yes, I have been practicing my English. Yes, my dream is still to change careers. But somehow everything has become a bit blurred during this year with a baby.

I notice that I’ve started to move my timelines. I’ve even occasionally thought about additional training. No matter how interesting, I can see that I’m starting to play with time. Procrastinate. Move goals. Change them. Explain things to myself.

And honestly, sometimes it’s hard to tell what is my true desire, what comes from my current life situation, and what is actually just negotiating with my fears.

But the main point is this: Now there are 3 months left until that moment.

Maybe you don’t need more time. Maybe you’re just moving the goalposts.

My first thought was honestly:

“What was I thinking back then? I’m still on maternity leave. It will end in 2 months. And I haven’t really done anything for the coaching business itself. Did I really think I would build it on the side during these months?”

But at the same time, suddenly, I felt new motivation. Like I want to prove it to myself. To prove my capability to that version of me who was so excited and willing to put herself out there

So bring it on!!

I still have three months to do something about it.

Let’s get started!

Thank you for reading my Sunday reflections. I hope you enjoyed it. I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments.

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Thank you!

See you next week!

For years, I’ve dreamed of creating my own Life Planner. Every year, I buy some kind of calendar-planner hybrid, but there’s always something about them that doesn’t fully serve my needs. Something I wish were a little different. So I’ve kept thinking that I should design my own, so it would be exactly the way I want it to be.

But then a new year comes around, and I end up buying a ready-made Life Planner, because mine is still undone. And that same thought just keeps lingering in the back of my mind. That’s why I made that promise to myself.

I didn’t need to design and create The Life Planner right away. I could start with something simple. Just a basic notebook, with simple pages and some kind of cover design. I thought I would start with a low threshold.

The main point would be to understand the whole process, so I would know more clearly what steps it actually takes. Then I could design my next notebook with more intention.

Well. This week my birthday came and went, and I still haven’t finished my first notebook, let alone ordered a physical sample of it.

With all this on my mind, I started writing these Sunday reflections today. I decided to begin this series so I could get better at doing the things I promise myself. With more discipline, less overthinking, and a lower bar. So that I would learn to finish things, whatever that may look like in each season of life.

Because I’ve noticed that in these busy years, many things tend to stay at the level of ideas and daydreams. Things are left halfway done, because something unexpected always comes up. And even when nothing unexpected happens, there still seem to be plenty of reasons to not follow through on the promises I’ve made to myself.

Like today.

It’s Sunday, and the first day this week that I would have a bit more freedom to spend time with my kids or with the whole family. And honestly, my mind keeps feeding me the thought that maybe it’s selfish, pointless, or a waste of time to spend today writing.

But I can also recognize that my mind is trying to come up with excuses to avoid this, because I didn’t have a single clear idea of what to write about. Or actually, I had many ideas, but all of them felt bad.

And when I think about the other promise I made to myself, the one I just broke, I really don’t want this Sunday reflection series to become another one of those things. To start a weekly column and fail already in the very first week.

No! Not today.

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Necessary flexibility or avoiding something uncomfortable?

I’ve experienced burnout, so I’m a strong advocate for self-compassion, flexibility in schedules, and resilience. I don’t like breaking promises, but I also don’t believe in holding onto them at any cost.

Still, the line between keeping a promise and allowing flexibility isn’t always so clear. Is this a moment where I should push myself beyond what feels comfortable, or a moment where I should step back and give myself rest? It’s not always a clear choice.

I’ve also noticed that when life gets unexpectedly heavy, it becomes much easier to keep the promises I’ve made to others and put my own things on hold. In a way, that brings a sense of ease and lightness into everyday life.

But if that becomes a pattern, maybe life is simply too full. If there’s no room for lightness without constantly compromising on things that matter to me, maybe something is too much.

Or maybe it’s just become a habit.

In the name of flexibility and self-compassion, it’s easy to choose the easier option instead of tolerating a bit of effort and discomfort. In the evening, when I’m already tired after the day, it’s much more tempting to watch an hour or two of some light Korean drama than to start working on something that actually requires thinking.

Because rest and relaxation matter too!

And a promise made to myself is often very different from a promise made to someone else. When I promise something to a friend or even an acquaintance, there are expectations. And there are consequences if I disappoint them.

Sometimes it feels like the closer someone is, the easier it is to let them down just a little.

“They’ll understand. They’ll be okay.”

Is that why a promise made to myself is the easiest one to break? Because surely, I am the closest person to myself. And I can always talk myself into understanding.

At least in that moment.

And so often, the disappointment of breaking a promise to myself only shows up afterward.

What happens when you break promises to yourself?

There are consequences to breaking promises to yourself, especially if it happens often.

First of all, it dranes your energy. Over the years, an enormous amount of time and energy goes into turning the same ideas, promises and plans over in your mind. All those unfinished intentions that stay with you year after year, like my Life Planner, take up their own space.

And even more energy is wasted on the quiet, recurring self-criticism and -blame. The thought that you still haven’t started what you’ve been meaning to do for so long. Or that once again, you broke your own promise.

If year after year I keep postponing starting something, shouldn’t I either let it go, or finally begin?

Secondly, when I break my own promises, aren’t I teaching myself that the things I want don’t really matter? That what I want and intend to do isn’t as important as what someone else has planned for my time?

I understand that as a mother of young children, my identity naturally shifts toward “we.” Much of what I do revolves around my children’s needs. And of course, my choices affect the rest of my family too.

But that doesn’t mean I have to give up my own things completely. I still matter. My things matter too.

And finally, maybe the most serious consequence is also the hardest to see, because it happens so gradually.

Every broken promise sends a small message to myself about the kind of person I am.

Even if it’s not spoken out loud, and not always fully conscious, that message slowly builds and strengthens. A quiet belief about who I am begins to form.

Am I someone who can quite easily break promises to myself?

And if that belief becomes strong enough, it starts to shape how I relate to my own ideas and dreams. They begin to feel less real even before I’ve tried. I start to doubt myself before I’ve even begun. And little by little, trust in myself starts to fade.

Would you trust a friend who always ends up canceling, postponing, and rearranging their promises? Even if they always had ‘good’ reasons?

Final Thoughts

Today, in this moment, I chose to write. Even though the whole family is finally home together after a busy week. Even though my daughter, sick with a cold, keeps asking if we could watch something together. Even though there is beautiful spring weather for being outdoors. Even though there are many other things I could be doing.

Still, I chose to write these Sunday reflections.

Because earlier, I made a conscious, thoughtful decision to commit to this weekly column. And this is a quiet, small vote for the version of myself who does the things she commits to. Even if, in this exact moment, it doesn’t feel like the best or most sensible use of my time.

And let it be a little imperfect and tattered. A piece where I might not express my thoughts as clearly as I could.

Because you know what?

This is actually just right. My week has been a bit tattered too. Life is never perfect. And in this season, with a small baby, my thoughts rarely feel very clear either.

So if I kept waiting for things to settle down, years would pass.

Waiting.

And I’ve never really liked waiting.

Thank you for being here. I hope you enjoyed reading my Sunday reflections.

What’s the latest promise you broke to yourself?

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In my current life situation, I simply don’t have as much time to write as often as I would like. But since I’ve finally started writing regularly and realized how much I enjoy it, I don’t want to give it up just because I supposedly don’t have enough time. After all, we always have time for the things we choose to prioritize.

For several weeks I struggled with the question of when, in the middle of everyday life, I could write somewhat regularly so that I could commit to a weekly post without it feeling overwhelming. I had also noticed that I often overthink and overanalyze my writing, which makes it sometimes hard to actually finish anything.

My days are mostly spent at home with the baby and my older children, taking care of everyday routines. Evenings and weekends are filled with the children’s or our own hobbies and other daily commitments. Some days and weeks there seems to be plenty of time for writing, while at other times there’s almost none.

But eventually I realized something. After all, this is my own playing field.
If a long weekly essay doesn’t fit into my life right now, perhaps I can simply change the rules of my own game.

And that’s why I’m starting this series of Sunday Reflections.
Light little 3–6 minute reads — that’s the goal.

My intention for this new series

With this series I’m setting myself a goal: to write something every week about a small event, a step forward, a realization, or simply a memorable moment from my everyday life during the past week.

I also want to give myself permission to experiment with different storytelling and writing styles if I feel like it.

At the same time, I want to practice not getting caught in the traps of my overanalyzing mind. I want to learn to write even about a single small moment in my day. My aim is to finish posts more quickly, even if that means they are shorter and simpler.

And in the end, life itself is quite simple. It is made up of small moments where insights and lessons happen. Even a small thing can be meaningful.

But then again… maybe everything doesn’t always have to be meaningful?

In reality, everyday life is often fairly repetitive and… ordinary. Nothing particularly special.

My goal is actually to write at least one post that is, in my own opinion, completely pointless, with absolutely no deep insight, lesson, or hidden meaning whatsoever 🙃

What kind of progress am I talking about?

I’m in the middle of some life changes. Just like many of us are. But this is something deeper and more comprehensive than just changing my diet or developing new exercise habits (although those too). This is a conscious and intentional — and at times painful — journey of change. A journey of reshaping my thinking patterns, myself, my career, and my life more broadly.

I’m building a life that looks and feels like my own version of a dream life, while at the same time figuring out what that actually means for me, how it might be possible, and how it can fit together with the needs and wishes of the other members of my family.

So when I talk about progress, I mean progress along this broader life journey.

If not now, then when?

For years I kept circling around the same “I should…” thoughts and felt somehow stuck, especially when it came to my career.

You know those slightly too small or slightly wrong clothes sitting in your closet year after year, because you keep thinking, “I’ll wear this once I lose a bit of belly fat,” or “Maybe these pants will fit again someday”?

Or those uncomfortable clothes you keep because you imagine your style being something more elegant or refined… but in reality you always end up wearing the most comfortable, slightly worn workout leggings and a warm fleece?

At some point I realized that too many areas of my life were in that exact same state. My reality was very different from my thoughts and wishes, and I was constantly daydreaming about a different situation.

Eventually I got completely tired of it.

In the spring of 2025 I decided that it was finally time to actually start building a life that resembles the one I dream about.

I didn’t know exactly how or what. But I understood that either I needed to completely update the contents of my closet — or learn to genuinely enjoy what was already in it — so that my reality and my imagination would start to align.

And by now you’ve probably guessed that I’m not really talking about my wardrobe. Or at least not only 🤭

I wanted a more comprehensive change. I wanted my life to feel lighter, more enjoyable, more meaningful, and joyful.

I decided I couldn’t wait for everyday life to calm down first, or for the surrounding circumstances to magically improve. I had to start changing things, and especially myself NOW.

In the middle of the emotional fog of early pregnancy, I signed up for life coaching studies that I had been dreaming about for a long time. I decided that this would be my first step toward a career change

Since then I’ve been pushing myself into uncomfortable situations so that I can break out of my old patterns and move closer to my dreams and goals.

I keep reminding myself that if I want different outcomes, I have to act differently than before.

I have said this sentence to myself many times during my life. But only in recent years have I started to focus the change more consciously on myself and on my own patterns of thinking, rather than only on external things like changing jobs, exercise routines, or eating habits.

I’ve struggled many times, stumbling over the same problems and relearning the same lessons again and again. I’ve sighed in frustration when the change has felt soooo slow.

But the best part is this: I’ve also started to notice how much I have already changed.

Little by little those changes are beginning to show in my actions, my daily life, and my relationships.

And of course, with the arrival of our baby in the fall of 2025, life has been quite full of change in other ways too. 🙃

A Space for Reflection and Change

I want this to become a space that feels welcoming and inspiring for you as a reader.

I also hope to find other like-minded people who are on their own journey of change, or perhaps looking for the courage or inspiration to start one.

Maybe this Sunday series could become a small step toward a community where life changes gradually, with awareness, intention, curiosity, and compassion, while listening to our inner voice and gently challenging our old habits and patterns of thinking.

My hope is that this series can be a small step toward a more curious, courageous, relaxed, and joyful everyday life.

So let’s get this started!

And here comes the very first Sunday reflection

I wrote and rewrote this post for a long time. Far too long. I let it sit in drafts for a couple of weeks. I definitely overanalyzed.

Well, at least we know the starting point now.

At first I excitedly wrote the first version that just poured out of my mind. Then I added a bit more. And then I got stuck thinking too much about what these Sunday Reflections should actually contain.

What parts of my everyday life do I want to reveal, and what parts do I not? Where should the boundaries be? Should some content go behind a paywall?

I tried to force myself to define some kind of framework for something that I actually didn’t want to over-structure.

I wrote one description. Too much. Another one. Still too much, and somehow too similar to what I had done before.

I bored myself.

At one point I almost started introducing myself in detail. A long, dull list of titles and career history, or the same old repetition of the difficult chapters of my life that form the background to all this.

Not now. Definitely not in the first post.

I deleted them. Well, most of them.

Maybe I’ll write about those things later in a separate post.

For now, I want to look forward with curiosity and an open mind. I don’t want to drag all the old baggage into this new playing field right away.

And I don’t want to restrict these posts too much either. I want to leave room for curiosity and experimentation.

So in practice, this series goes against almost every piece of blogging advice out there.

There’s no strict topic. I don’t exactly know who I’m writing for. I’m not telling a powerful background story that people could easily relate to… And it looks like I already exceeded my own length goal with this first one.

Well… maybe the future posts will gradually speak for themselves, and we’ll see where this road leads.

But having learned something from this process, I can share a small tip with you.

Here comes the first lesson of the week 😉

Don’t overanalyze. It’s pointless.
Besides, I probably did enough of it for both of us.

Don’t try to force clarity into something that isn’t clear yet. Start small. Be patient. Refine and clarify your plans once you’re already on the path.

So often, and here as well, less is more. (I'm still learning that.)

A little background information anyways

I’m Kirsi-Maria and I live in Finland, in a small town. I’m a mother of three children under the age of ten and the partner of their father. My youngest is still a baby, only six months old.

I started writing here on Substack shortly before my baby was born, so in a way he and this Substack journey of mine are growing side by side. Although my baby’s pace of growth and development is impossible to compare with the growth of my Substack newsletter 😄

I’m so happy you found your way here. I hope you enjoy spending time with my Sunday Reflections.

And if you do, please leave a like or a comment!

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And if you overly enjoyed it, you can also buy me a coffee 😉

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I truly appreciate that you’re here and reading my words 💛 See you next week!

Today, on International Women’s Day, I find myself thinking about my motherhood and my own mum.

I recognize how privileged I am to live in a country where gender equality is relatively high. In Finland, women can study any profession they choose. They can vote, participate in politics, and we have even had a female president. Women can serve in the military and work as priests in the Evangelical Lutheran Church. Laws also protect women from discrimination in working life, including discrimination related to pregnancy and family leave.

These things may sound ordinary to us today, but historically they are quite recent.

Gender equality has been actively promoted over the past decades, and the changes have been significant even within just a couple of generations. Even though as always, attitudes and behaviours stick hard long after the law has changed already.

Right now I’m on maternity leave, spending these early, lovely months with my third child. I will have about nine months at home in total, and during that time I receive financial support that is connected to my previous income (around 60 % of the monthly salary). After this period, there is still the possibility of receiving minor financial support until the child turns three. What feels particularly meaningful is that this financial support has accumulated a pension since 2005.

I realize that these structures didn’t appear by themselves. They were built step by step over the decades.

This was not even the case during my parents’ generation. In rural areas it was still common that the oldest son inherited the family farm or property. Expectations for women’s roles were narrower, and the social systems supporting parenthood were more limited. Women’s roles were more strongly associated with staying at home with children for long periods, and pension did not accumulate during those years.

I feel deep gratitude toward the women and men who have worked to build a more equal society. They questioned old structures, pushed boundaries, and demanded change.

Because of that work, I can live the life I live today. At the same time, I know the work is not finished. Every generation carries part of the responsibility to keep moving equality forward. Everything starts with individuals, with ourselves. With the things we question, how we think, speak, and act. With the example we carry for others.

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Thinking about this naturally brings my thoughts to my own mother.

I am thankful to her for showing me what it means to be a strong, caring, and hardworking woman. A woman who does what she believes is right, not what others expect. A woman who is not afraid to speak her own mind, and to have strong opinions. And a woman who is always willing to help others.

I am also grateful that together with my dad they raised me in a way that I never had to question whether I could study and work as a civil engineer, a male-dominated field where women in Finland still represent only about ten percent. And where still were (and are) diminishing attitudes toward women.

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But only after becoming a mother did I begin to think more broadly about women’s rights and equality. I had already worked in a male-dominated field, but it was only at this stage that I started to reflect more deeply on women’s economic position when starting a family, as well as on issues related to women’s health.

Motherhood can create economic imbalance within families. While men often continue building their careers, women may spend years outside the workforce caring for children. This can sometimes lead to financial dependence and may make it difficult to leave even an unhealthy relationship.

Although in Finland these matters are generally much better than in many other countries, there are still shortcomings. In terms of health in particular, motherhood includes a long and sensitive phase of life. Women carry a child, give birth, and often breastfeed. Pregnancy, breastfeeding, and the early childhood years with broken sleep can last several years, especially if there are multiple children.

During that time the body gives a lot. Many women experience significant vitamin and nutrient deficiencies. Still, it often feels that issues related to mothers’ nutrition, health, and overall well-being are not fully recognized or given enough attention.

I feel concern for many exhausted women whose voices are not taken seriously. Too often their fatigue, symptoms, or illness are dismissed as hormonal changes or depression, even though the underlying cause may be years of physical and emotional strain. They have carried, given birth to, fed, and cared for their children, often while also managing the daily life of the family and working part-time.

That’s why I would like to recognize mothers everywhere.

Do you even realize how much you do, all the time?

You nurse and feed your child. You take care of their well-being and safety constantly. You sleep lightly, often for years, ready to wake at any toilet trip, nightmare, or unusual sound so that your children can rest peacefully.

You are not only the warm and safe shelter around them, but also your children’s protective voice from a distance. The one who notices, guides, shields, and stands beside them.

And do you understand how much you are constantly adapting? Children grow quickly, their needs change, and you change with them.

You learn new daily rhythms and eating habits. You prepare clothing for every new season. You reshape your home to make it safer at each stage of development. You arrange stimulation, equipment, toys and activities to support their everyday life and growth.

You are truly remarkable.

And if at some point you don’t have the energy to adopt yet another new routine for yourself, whether for exercise or your own hobbies, please don’t blame and criticize yourself so easily.

You are already doing so much.

Today is a good day to give yourself some recognition for all the hard work you’ve done and still do.

And maybe you could thank your own mother, or some other significant woman in your life, for the work she has done for your wellbeing.

I send mine with longing and gratitude beyond the clouds.

Thank you, Mom 🤍

Happy Women’s Day to every girl, woman, sister, aunt, mother, stepmother, grandmother and great-grandmother.

🌷💛🌺

I would love to hear how you will celebrate Women’s Day today?

I’m going to bake a Swiss roll with my daughter, and we’ll enjoy it together as a family while enjoying the beautiful sunny spring day. ☀️

Who is a woman in your life whose work and influence have had the greatest impact?
Share in the comments.

For me, it definitely is my mum.

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It’s not always easy to be a woman, but it is beautiful and remarkable.

If my writing has ever brought you joy, inspiration, or helped you take steps toward your own life change and self-awareness,
you can show your support by liking or restacking this post or buying me a coffee.
I truly appreciate that you’re here and reading my words.

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Would you let them regularly judge and blame you the way you do to yourself?

So many of us carry a voice inside that is far harsher than anything we would ever say to someone we love. We do it regularly, as a habit, and we may not even recognise the harshness of the words. And the saddest part is that at some point we get so used to it that we don’t even question it anymore.

We start to believe it.

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Although inner speech is not the same as words we hear from others, the brain processes it partly in similar ways. That’s why the way we speak to ourselves can have a surprisingly strong psychological impact.

Research has shown that the way we speak to ourselves influences how we regulate our emotions, thoughts, and behavior in stressful situations.

Harsh and self-blaming inner speech is linked to stronger rumination and more negative emotions. A kinder and more self-compassionate inner voice, on the other hand, often helps us regulate our emotions and approach difficult situations more calmly.

Dear inner critic

I wish you could see yourself the way the people who love you see you.
I wish you could see your worth, and your value through their eyes.
I wish you could see how significant you truly are.

And I wish you could let these words sink into your mind and heart without immediately trying to deny them. Without trying to diminish your worth.

I wish you would stop speaking to yourself so harshly.

Stupid, lazy, useless, incapable …

Please, stop.

Why would you speak to yourself like that?

They are not light words, even if you repeat them so lightly to yourself.

It hurts to think that you might actually believe even a fraction of those words.

I wish you could see how much you already do. You don’t need to do more, you don’t need to be more in order to be valuable. In order to be lovable.

Or maybe it is something you only expect from yourself?

I wish you could see how much joy and happiness you bring to the people around you.
How incredibly well you do your work.
How people respect you for who you are and what you do.
How people value your opinion.

I wish you could truly feel how much you are appreciated.

I wish you could feel the warmth that comes from the care you show.
Feel the sense of safety you create for people around you. Feel the inspiration you create through your example. Through the way you are, and live.
I wish you could feel the understanding and acceptance your emotional intelligence brings for people close to you.

I wish you would show that acceptance for yourself, too.
That you weren’t so hard on yourself.

I wish you wouldn’t expect yourself to show up at 100% every day. That you would allow yourself to rest without feeling guilty for not doing more.
I wish you could be content with the things you’ve accomplished.
Contentment doesn’t stop the progress.
That’s bullshit. Pardon my language.

I wish you could see the beauty and the capability in yourself that the people around you see so clearly.

We all have goodness within us.
And you definitely have it too.

You are not lazy.
You are not stupid.

You are skilled.
You are capable.
You are doing amazing.
Can’t you really see that?

You have what it takes, all the time.
Even on the days when you rest and do nothing.

It's not laziness.

That's the wisdom in you that you try to ignore.

We are not machines. We need rest too, and you know it.
Just, allow it.

And please don’t compare yourself to others. Because circumstances affect us so much and you can't see them when you compare. You just compare the highlights.
You can't see under their surface.

But could you see under yours?

Could you please take off the lens of judgment and blame, and truly see yourself?

I wish you could be gentler with yourself.

You can be gentle and still be ambitious.
You can be compassionate and still work hard.

I wish you could love yourself too. Care for yourself. The way you love and care for others.

I wish…

I just truly wish you could read these words, and really believe them.

If my writing has ever brought you joy, inspiration, or helped you take steps toward your own life change and self-awareness,
you can show your support by liking this post or buying me a coffee.
I truly appreciate that you’re here and reading my words.

Buy me a coffee

This is a conversation space exclusively for subscribers—kind of like a group chat or live hangout.

I’ll post questions and updates that come my way as I move forward on my own life-change journey, and you’re more than welcome to jump into the discussion.

I’d also love to hear what kind of life changes you’re aiming for and what your dreams and goals are?

You can also reply to this email if you’re open to sharing.

Join chat

How to get started

1. Get the Substack app by clicking this link or the button below. New chat threads won’t be sent sent via email, so turn on push notifications so you don’t miss conversation as it happens. You can also access chat on the web.

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2. Open the app and tap the Chat icon. It looks like two bubbles in the bottom bar, and you’ll see a row for my chat inside.

3. That’s it! Jump into my thread to say hi, and if you have any issues, check out Substack’s FAQ.

I’m glad to see you there!

Talk to you soon 😊

-Kirsi-Maria-

Maybe you’ve sometimes felt afraid of expressing yourself too. Afraid of being seen just as you are?

I think these days, with social media, it can feel even harder to express ourselves freely. It’s so easy to criticize from behind a screen. We share something vulnerable, and someone quickly grabs onto it, noticing a sensitive spot.

Based on a small piece of information we share, people may assume they know everything about us, twist our words, or expand one opinion into something we never meant. Or they simply judge us because we disagree.

It’s no wonder that so many of us are afraid of being truly seen.

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Ninni the invisible girl

Ninni was not invisible by nature. She became invisible because she had lived with a person who treated her with constant coldness and indifference, someone who never truly saw her. Nothing dramatic or violent, just a quiet, persistent way of making her feel small, uncertain, and wrong. Little by little, she faded and became literally invisible, until she disappeared completely. In the end, only the sound of the small silver bell around her neck revealed where she was.

When Ninni came to live with the Moomin family, they did something very simple yet powerful. They welcomed her without expectations. They spoke to her kindly, including her in everyday life. They didn’t demand that she change or hurry. They gave her time. Time to be herself. They listened to her and understood her. They saw her even though she was invisible.

And slowly, Ninni began to return. First her feet became visible, then her hands, and gradually the rest of her. It wasn’t a straightforward process. Sometimes she would become more invisible again if she felt judged, as she had before. Even though that wasn’t the case, she interpreted situations through her old experiences.

What finally made Ninni fully visible again was the moment she felt strong enough to express herself freely. Strong enough to even show her anger when someone she cared about was treated unfairly. In that moment, she was no longer afraid to exist as she truly was.

I love that story.

I think so many of us, in our own ways, learn to make ourselves smaller. We soften our opinions, hide parts of who we are, or hold back our voice, without even noticing when it begins.

It can happen because someone has treated us wrongly before, like Ninni. It can also happen if you've been burned for speaking up, lost friends for having the wrong opinion, or if you live somewhere where being different isn't safe. Or sometimes it’s simply because we want to belong, because we fear criticism or misunderstanding, or because we want to please.

Over time, it can feel as if parts of us fade, just like happened to Ninni.

That’s why I wanted to remind you today, on Valentine’s Day, to be openly and courageously yourself. Express yourself, do the things you enjoy, reach for your dreams. No one else has the same thoughts, experiences, wishes, hopes, wisdom, and characteristics that you have. You have those dreams for a reason.

Don’t let other people’s opinions or criticism stop you from being yourself. Don’t fade or become invisible. The people who truly matter are those who appreciate and love you as you are.

I’m not saying it’s simple or easy. But I believe it’s worth it. And of course it’s easier if we have someone around us to support us. Still, I can imagine that not everyone has a Moomin family around them. But on the other hand, neither did Ninni before she happened to come across them. We never know where our path will lead us when we start moving toward our dreams, toward our true self. And we never know what kind of people and support we will find on that new journey.

If you have people in your life who support you—who see the parts of you that you haven't felt comfortable showing anyone else and still accept you—remember to tell them you appreciate them. Maybe it's your friend, sibling, parent, grandparent, teacher, or someone from your hobby.

So often we judge ourselves through the reactions of others, and we let that shape how visible we allow ourselves to be. But when we find people who understand us, who maybe share our interests, who encourage and support us, and who see us with kindness and acceptance, they remind us that we don’t need to be or become anything else to belong, other than being ourselves.

Writing here on Substack is my way of learning to express myself, learning to know myself, building my confidence by showing a part of me that I haven’t been using before in my life. This is my way to be more visible in my own life, even though most of the people around me don’t see this part of me. At least not yet.

That’s why I want to thank you, my dear reader, subscriber, and follower. Thank you for being here, seeing parts of me that I haven’t been used to showing so openly, and making me feel accepted. 💗

And thank you, my newest friend across the sea, for being that kind of person to me who’s supporting me in being more visible. I met you after I started my own change journey. After I took the first steps toward my dream. You know who you are. Your support and friendship are helping me flourish, helping me believe in these new parts of my identity as I am just forming them.🌺💕

And finally, before you go, I would like to ask for you:

What could be one small step you could take today toward being a little more visible in your life?

Thank you for being here today.

Be visible. Be you.

Happy Valentine’s Day! 💞😊

With love,
Kirsi-Maria

It’s weekday morning, and in 25 minutes, kids should be heading to school. I had reminded them several times to brush their teeth and comb their hair before breakfast.

I said it once, twice and soon again. Nothing happened, and time was running out.

Then with a fourth time my voice sharpened, and I could feel myself getting irritated. This situation was too familiar. Mornings, and evenings, same themes and the same loop, time after time.

I would totally prefer to use my time and energy differently than acting as a living reminder. In my mind, I seemed like a parrot who had been taught only a few words, which she kept repeating day after day.

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Why this keeps happening?

Once the morning routine was finally done, and kids were eating breakfast, I asked them why this seems to happen so often?

My kids are 6 and 9 years old, so it’s really not that they wouldn’t understand or be able to concentrate on those kinds of instructions and tasks.

I asked whether they think they wouldn’t have to do these things at all if they just waited long enough?

If they think I would forget?

”No. That’s not it.” Both answered right away.

“It’s just SO BORING.”

I might be guilty as well

In that moment I reached some sort of deeper understanding toward my children’s actions related to many similiar situations.

I could relate to their experience. I delay plenty of things myself. Things I know are necessary and should just get done, but I keep pushing them off.

I also don’t think they’ll just eventually disappear (well some of them do if I’m “late enough” :P). And it’s not that I wouldn’t care either.

It’s because they do feel boring, dull, uncomfortable, or somehow unpleasant.

Emails, paperwork, planning, cleaning, or even some decisions, when there’s just a pile of unfinished tasks and uncertain things hanging in the air, so that I cannot decide where to start or which schedule would work.

So I could totally understand my kids. Maybe my reasons go beyond boredom, but I do the exact same thing they do, just with different things.

And hey, the habit is so common that there’s even a word of its own for it:

Procrastination.

What is procrastination?

Procrastination means that you are delaying or postponing tasks that need to be done, even when you know waiting will likely cause problems or stress. It’s the habit of putting things off until the last minute.

For example, if you have a work project due Friday but keep saying you’ll start it “tomorrow,” and then tomorrow comes and you still don’t begin, that’s procrastination. You might end up rushing it through at Thursday night, feeling stressed and quilty thinking “Why did I leave this till las minute again?”.

Why do we procrastinate?

People procrastinate for different reasons.

Sometimes it’s because a task feels overwhelming or boring. Sometimes it’s due to perfectionism; fear that you won’t do it well enough so you avoid starting. Other times it’s simply easier to do something more enjoyable in the moment, even though you know you should be working on something else.

The irony, of course, is that while procrastination feels good in the moment (you get to relax or do something fun), it usually creates bigger problems later: missed deadlines, lower quality work, anxiety, and stress. But in that immediate moment, your brain chooses the relief of avoidance over the discomfort of facing the task.

That’s why many people try to break the procrastination habit by starting tasks earlier or breaking big projects into smaller, more manageable pieces.

It all comes down to avoiding difficult emotions

From a psychological perspective, procrastination stems from several interconnected factors, like perfectionism, or how we are often more drawn to immediate gratification, or maybe we really struggle with planning and feel overwhelmed, but it all comes down to emotion regulation.

Procrastination is fundamentally about avoiding unpleasant emotions.

Procrastination is not about laziness. We procrastinate because doing the task produces uncomfortable feelings, like anxiety, self-doubt, frustration, boredom, feelings of inadequacy, uncertainty, or the discomfort of effort itself. When we procrastinate, we temporarily relieve that discomfort by letting ourselves do something more pleasant.

We’re not avoiding the task itself, but the emotional weight associated with it.

In children, boredom and lack of interest tend to be the most prominent factors when procrastinating. In fact, studies have shown that boredom is one of the strongest emotional predictors of procrastination, especially in simple, repetitive, and mandatory tasks.

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Lesson learned

Today taught me that yes, children procrastinate too. Even in something so everyday as brushing their teeth.

It also taught me that this habit, procrastination, starts this early in our lives.
No wonder it sticks with us so strongly.

In the future, I’ll understand better that the issue isn’t necessarily that my child doesn’t listen, understand, or want to do what I’ve asked, or lacks the ability to concentrate. The issue could genuinely be procrastination, a habit that’s so familiar to us adults too.

Our brains naturally seek immediate relief and pleasure rather than willingly face uncomfortable emotions.

Understanding that procrastination is fundamentally an emotion avoidance strategy helps us realize that willpower alone won’t solve it. Sometimes we can try to break the habit by starting tasks earlier or breaking big projects into smaller, more manageable pieces.

Bur studies show that managing tasks alone rarely beats procrastination. The real key is building tolerance for uncomfortable feelings. Learning to sit with anxiety, boredom, or self-doubt while still moving forward with our tasks.

Maybe for children that tolerance doesn’t build up so easily, but having clarity and some small rewards might help.

For example, we ended up writing a morning routine list together with the kids, including all the things they should have done before leaving for school.

We agreed that in the end, it's their own responsibility to check whether they've done everything—not mine, even though I might still help and remind them.

If everything goes well, they’ll automatically get one hour of screen time that day.

And yes, I know this could easily turn into a threat: You won’t get to watch if…, since kids are at their screens almost every day anyway. But instead, I tried to frame it more as an incentive: “You’ll get to watch today if…” :D

I’d love to hear about your children’s typical procrastination, and what this writing brought up for you.

Does this all sound familiar to you?

Leave a comment

And finally:

Are you procrastinating on some task right now?

What emotion are you actually trying to avoid?

In which direction do I consciously want to guide my everyday life and my life as a whole?

This is not a list of New Year’s resolutions.
I’m writing this as part of my ongoing journey of self-reflection and personal growth.
This is more a conscious agreement with myself and a set of guidelines for the changes I want to focus on this coming year.

A reminder I can return to when I start going in circles, feeling directionless and doubtful in my everyday life. Also a small boost for my self-trust.

A reminder of the direction I want to grow in. I believe growing myself helps me show up better for those I care about and the pople around me.

Perhaps it might inspire some self-reflection for you, depending on the changes you’re exploring in your own life.

And a small warning: the result turned into a rather elevated and intense, almost declarative list of things I want and don’t want to focus on next year 😄

But I don’t want to over-edit, polish every word, or overanalyze it all.

So here it is.

Are you ready?

Manifesto for 2026

Letting go of the old

This year, I let go, release and consciously loosen my grip on what no longer serves me.
I understand that I need to let go of many old, even comfortable, things in order to make space for something new.

I don’t just work on my thought patterns or expand my understanding.
I genuinely release old, stuck beliefs and attitudes.

And I don’t focus only on changing my mindset, but also commit to changing my physical environment.

I reduce, clear out, and let go of things, responsibilities, and mental burdens that exhaust me more than they add anything meaningful or good to my life.

I am not afraid to let go of old.
I remind myself that what once worked and inspired me may no longer do so today. Everything has its time.

Building something new

This year, I create new.
I continue creating a new version of myself. One that shows on the outside and feels true on the inside.
I take action and increase my activity.

I create and build new, concrete things, daily rhythms, habits, and routines.
I continue to loosen my grip on hesitation and perfectionism.

I’m not afraid of change. I approach it with curiosity, joy and trust.
I focus on what I truly want.
I direct my energy toward what is good and feels meaningful, not toward what’s wrong or missing.

I pursue what I want with love, curiosity, freedom, creativity, light-hearted and compassion.

Doing the work for what matters

I’m patient with the things that matter to me. Not everything that feels difficult right now is something to be let go of.

For the things that matter, I am willing to show up fully, to do the work required, to adapt, to tolerate uncertainty, and to endure the discomfort that growth brings.

I am willing to work through the fears and uncomfortable emotions behind important things, so they don’t end up steering my mood, my presence, or my decisions.

So I don’t try to control my life through tension and fear,
but instead move through it with compassion, opennes, love and a more relaxed kind of trust.

I am open to learning new perspectives,
listening without defending myself,
understanding without assumptions, speaking my truth without hesitation,
giving without expectations,
and acting without waiting for circumstances to change first.

Pursuing my dreams, taking responsibility for my choices

I know I can influence my actions, my habits, what I choose, and how I show up in my everyday life and my relationships
— my life,
even though not everything is in my control.

I don’t wait for permission, approval, or validation from others in matters that concern me and matter to me.

I pursue my own dreams with courage, love and clarity.
I trust my judgment.
I trust myself.

Asking for and accepting help

I understand that I don’t have to, and don’t want to, do everything alone.
Many things are not only easier but also more meaningful when they are shared.

I accept help when my energy — or my limitations — are reached. I ask help if needed.
Still, I don’t expect others to carry my goals or dreams for me.

I aim to support and help others as I walk my own path.

Trusting the future

I am brave and capable.
I am energetic and inventive.
I am persistent and resilient.
I am understanding and compassionate — also toward myself.

I am patient.
I am loving and grateful.
I trust life.

I don’t cling to life through fear or try to control every detail of my days.
I stay open to what life may bring, trusting what’s ahead.

Because I don’t always know what’s best, and that’s okay.
I trust that I will manage.

Respecting myself, and those close to me, as they are

I accept myself as unfinished.
As I am right now, while still working to grow, challenge myself, and become a better version of myself.

My worth doesn’t disappear when I change, face resistance, or meet criticism.
Someone else’s truth or even my own isn’t the truth.

I listen to myself and my needs.
I allow myself to live in alignment with who I am, to express myself.

I listen to the people close to me and their needs. I allow them to live in alignment with who they are, and express themselves.

I stay patient with change. I avoid blaming myself, or others along the way.

Protecting joy, curiosity, and aliveness

I find joy in learning something new and challenging myself.
I appreciate having the opportunity to grow.
I feel inspired by the fact that I can change things in my everyday life, little by little.

I can create a life that feels beautiful, joyful and inspiring
starting from each moment.

I accept that meaningful, lasting change doesn’t happen overnight.
I understand that change includes beginner phases and moments of practice.

And if I compare myself to others, I do it to feel inspired and motivated,
not to diminish myself or feed fear and insecurity.

On my own path

I remember that I’m on my own path,
even as I share parts of the path with others.

I can influence both the direction and the pace of my journey.

I enjoy the journey.
I can shape it, decorate it, create an atmosphere along the way.
I can also lighten my load when needed and ease my burdens.

I trust my path.

I can pray for strength and protection, guidance, understanding and trust.

Listening inward

If fear, uncertainty, stress, or anxiety start to dominate,
I adjust my direction or my pace when needed.

I pause.
I rest.
I reflect.

I listen inward.
I allow my emotions space without judgment.
I clarify my direction and intentions.

Making peace with the past

I accept my past, its events and my choices.
I accept the difficult periods and uncomfortable emotions, since I cannot change them. I can ask for forgiveness. I forgive myself and others.

I don’t dwell on the past. I don’t bring up things from it to cast shadows over my present moment.
I accept my past as a part of me and my life.

Gratitude in everyday life

I am grateful for what my past experiences have taught me and how they have shaped me.

I am grateful for what I have here and now.
In this moment, everything is okay.

I am grateful for my health and for the people close to me, my family.

I am grateful for life.

Awareness of my goals and emotions

I don’t lock myself into a single outcome or destination.

I recognize that many of the things I strive for, experiences, habits, changes,
are, at their core, emotional states.

I notice that I can already create some of these desired emotional states in my life.
Little by little.
In single moments.
In this very moment.

Welcome, year 2026.

I’d love to hear what thoughts this text stirred in you, and whether something in it resonates with the changes you’re working toward?

Leave a comment

A few reflective questions to end with, ones I’ve personally found useful when building new habits and goals:

What would achieving my goals actually bring into my life?
What fears exist behind achieving, or not achieving, my goals?

Why do I currently rely on the habit I want to change?
What other ways could I meet the same need or emotional state without that habit?

This morning I was surprised when the thermometer showed -18 degrees (-0,4 °F) again. I thought the weather would start warming up by now. I packed the kids into the cold car, since I still haven’t downloaded the car app that would let me schedule the heating.

Everything requires an app these days. It’s no wonder that modern life feels so exhausting. Everything has been made so easy and convenient, yet so complicated.

Standing in our yard, I thought the air felt surprisingly warm. The car started cold on the first try. A couple of times I caught myself thinking (as I have so many times before) “I hope the baby isn’t cold”. Soon, though, I calm myself. He isn’t. He’s wearing several layers. We’ve been outside many times before in the coldest frost.
Everything is fine.

On the way to the children’s school I admire the beauty of nature several times over. The frost has coated the branches and shrubs in thick, white layers. The morning is already light, even though it’s only nine o’clock. The sky looks beautiful.

From school I continue into the city center for the baby’s routine four-month check-up. Everything is well; the baby grows, eats, sleeps, moves, smiles, poops and pees and is an extremely content little being. I’m not worried at all.

For once, I’m well ahead of schedule. I decide to take a small detour and drive through the coastal route for a scenic ride. I’m glad I do, because the beauty at the horizon truly stops me. It wakes me up again to noticing the beauty hidden in small, ordinary moments.

I step out of the car to admire the beauty of the landscape, to breathe in the crisp frosty air, and to snap some photos. The baby sleeps in the car.

“How fortunate that I have time for this too” I think.

As I stand there, I sink into thinking more carefully about my busyness, my unfinished tasks, and the subtle sense of stress that has lurked in the background for some time.

Becoming aware of quiet stress

I realized that for several weeks now, I’ve been trying to create space to reflect on the new year and set goals. At the same time, however, I’ve also intentionally slowed down the start of the year and reduced the time I spend on digital devices. Especially when I’ve known that I don’t really have the time anyway. And that I would likely soon be interrupted by the baby or the older kids. I wanted to avoid jumping constantly from one task to another.

I notice that I’ve been trying to avoid logging into all these numerous applications, adopting new apps, opening different email accounts, even opening letters and bills or reacting to them whenever possible. And I’ve muted several WhatsApp groups.

Clearly, I’ve been trying to give my nervous system space to rest while also trying to rest and sleep more.

But I haven’t done this all entirely consciously, which has resulted in small pressure and stress lurking in the background.

The pause that nature demanded came at just the right moment. It helped me clearly recognize that gnawing feeling of stress and invited me to stop and reflect on where it was coming from.

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The allure of a new beginning

I love the turn of the year. The feeling of a new start. I enjoy reflecting on the year that’s passed and turning my gaze toward what lies ahead. I like thinking about what I hope for from the coming year, and setting intentions and goals.

I try to listen to myself, sensing what might want to become the theme of the year. What I need. What I long for in this particular season of life.

I also want to reflect on what to consciously leave behind from the past year. So that I don’t unknowingly carry old, worn-out thought patterns and mental cycles, and with them the same problems and challenges, into the new year.

I enjoy the process of looking at my long-term goals, breaking them into smaller steps, setting milestones and timelines. Sketching out a concrete plan for how to move toward these goals in the middle of busy family life.

I’ve always liked problem-solving, and this is like a challenge for me to dig into. All of this is familiar to me through my coaching studies and my own self-development work, especially in shaping my thought patterns and attitudes. It’s a world I enjoy, a place where I feel at home.

But now I’ve realized that it had quietly turned into a performance for me. Something that simply needed to get done. And when that happens, it no longer feels enjoyable at all.

When even meaningful becomes a performance

The thought of setting goals had started to become a small burden. One unfinished task among all the other unfinished tasks. That’s when I realized the contradiction: if this important yet entirely optional thing to me starts to feel like a performance, I’m moving in exactly the opposite direction from what I’m aiming for in my life, and what is the point of these goals in the first place.

A few years ago, when I was recovering from burnout, I made a conscious decision to slow my life down. To learn how to enjoy and delight in life more.

Because burnout, along with its many symptoms of constant exhaustion, anxiety and irritability, also includes emotional numbness. Life loses its light and color. Nothing really feels like anything anymore. Everything feels a bit gray, and everyday life feels like a heavy performance.

Amid all of this, unpleasant thoughts and difficult feelings easily start to circle, feeding one another. Growing stronger with exhaustion and stress in tow. Burnout often walks hand in hand with depression, too.

When I finally began to notice and feel the small joys of everyday life again, the experience was so meaningful that I promised myself to cherish and protect this ability — my own health — more carefully going forward. Since then, I’ve realized I’ve been learning the same lessons on a smaller scale again and again.

Because what’s the point of a life that is gray performance and drudgery, when it could be a colorful experience?

Goal-orientation through slowing down

I’ve always enjoyed self-development, goals and projects. I want to learn new things and challenge myself. But in the midst of all this goal-orientation, I want my life to be slow enough that I have time to notice and linger in the small moments of everyday life. Without always rushing from one moment to the next. To avoid burning myself out again.

I want to grow, evolve and achieve my goals while listening to the needs of myself and my family. While enjoying everyday life.

So if everyday life starts to feel like performance, it’s time to pause and think about what’s causing it. And if necessary, adjust course or recalibrate my focus.

The pressure of my own expectations

For several years now I’ve been reflecting on the past year and the coming year at the turn of the year, and setting goals for the new year. It’s something I do for myself — for me. Not because “that’s what you’re supposed to do,” but because I enjoy it and find it meaningful. Planning helps me gain clarity and direction.

The past few months have been all about baby life. Days, evenings, and weekends pass by quickly. I’m noticing more and more clearly that my time and energy simply aren’t enough for everything I’d like to do or thought I could manage. For everyday life to work—the baby’s needs, the older children’s routines, running the household, and everyone’s hobbies—I have to admit that many things have to wait if I want to even occasionally feel unrushed.

If and when I value family, closeness, and love highly, I know that, unfortunately, this won’t show in practice if I jam something into every free time slot, continuously burdening my nervous system with unnoticed energy thieves. Even when I do rest from time to time, it often comes with a little guilt, because I usually had something else planned for that time. In my mind, I had already done many more things than I could actually manage.

Then this is exactly what happens. How stress starts to creep in. I grow tired, more easily irritated. My sense of humor and lightness fades, my everyday life becomes... well, a performance.

But I don’t intend to forget myself and my need for goal-orientation entirely. No, not at all. Otherwise I’d be back at that same point again. I just need to find a somewhat different way to express myself and my goals than what I apparently had in mind.

A hint of the coming year’s theme

As I write this, a thought that I’ve already been pondering for the past couple of months grows stronger: a longing to simplify and declutter things. To reduce concrete objects, electronic matters, and various responsibilities.

I’ve been observing my daily life for a while now and clearly noticed how much time and energy goes into everything non-essential, that still isn’t rest, recover or restoration. In small fragments. Fifteen minutes quickly becomes half an hour here and there. Over time, it leads to dissatisfaction. It’s like walking in circles within your own daily life wondering how there’s always a small sense of rush, even though nothing seems to be clearly progressing.

One of the themes for the coming year will definitely be decluttering, reduction, and simplification.

Family life with kids, and life in general, is constantly changing. The baby grows quickly and needs change, my own energy and capacity fluctuates. Balancing work and family requires constant adjustment. And amidst it all, there’s, of course, my relationship, my friendships and my own needs to care for.

It’s like a puzzle where the picture keeps changing. At the very least, I can try to reduce the number of puzzle pieces so that at least occasionally I might see a complete picture forming.

When I paused to listen

When I honestly paused to observe my daily life and how I feel, I noticed that I’ve been more tired than usual these past weeks. Actually, quite exhausted. A small flu has been bothering me and our family life has been busier than usual. There’s also been some more serious illness in my close circle, which has been emotionally draining. Emotional burden is often the most exhausting of all. Even though I’ve rested somewhat more than usual, it hasn’t been enough to fill the gap created by everyday strain.

Clearly what I’ve been needing first and foremost is rest. That’s why the drafting of new goals and plans for the turn of the year hasn’t happened despite gently pressuring myself. Now that I understand it, it feels even more pointless that I’ve occasionally felt guilty about dragging my feet on the matter.

Fortunately, today nature stopped me.

I understood that this beginning of the year wasn’t meant for clarity and planning, but for rest. For slowing down and listening. For noticing the beauty of everyday life despite the rush. For noticing what I truly need right now, and what family life requires.Because the turn of the year isn’t a sign that you should floor the gas pedal. Apparently I wasn’t ready to start up as efficiently as my car did, frost notwithstanding.

Goals are not a sprint

I know I’ll return to the new year’s plans when the time is right. And I also know that I’m not in a rush.

Now that I’ve gotten clarity around the matter, I actually find myself looking forward to it. To having quiet time with my notebook and pen. To being able to get to work on the matter instead of it feeling like something I should squeeze in somewhere.

I hope you too can pause for a moment and reflect on yourself, on the path you’re heading, and examine your expectations of yourself. If you’re carrying guilt, pressure, or stress, I hope you can gain clarity about where those feelings come from.

And if you still have your plans and goals to set for the coming year, let this be a reminder to you that you’re not late at all. The year is still very much at its beginning.

Perhaps you, too, needed something other than goal-setting at the start of this year. Something other than stepping on the gas from a cold start.

The setting of meaningful goals doesn’t happen in a rush, in passing. It requires time and energy. Sometimes also space and peace so that thoughts can simmer in your mind for a while before their implementation.

And when you do begin planning, remember to leave room in them. Room for the unexpected. For illness. For changing needs. Room for life as it truly is.

We have a tendency to make plans based on the ideal everyday life and an ideal version of ourselves, even though everyday life — especially with children — is rarely predictable or steady. And we can’t always function at our ideal capacity. Something always comes along that changes the rhythm. Life doesn’t run in a straight line, and it doesn’t have to.

Life changes and achieving goals are not black and white. While consistency, effort, and showing up when it’s hard all have their place, meaningful, lasting change also requires flexibility and resilience. They require listening to and understanding yourself, so you don’t push beyond your limits and burn out from continuous effort and performance.

Whatever kind of everyday life you’re managing right now, I wish you a gentle week and a calm, unhurried start to your year — even with big new goals and plans ahead.

I wish time for yourself, and time for your loved ones. Time for your thoughts.
Most of all, I wish you many beautiful moments where you have the space to simply be and linger.
🤍🩵💗

To close, here’s a poem inspired by the landscape and this moment of pause.

I learned to carry many things and multiple feelings at once. And that healing is not a waiting room that leads to the graveyard of my bad feelings or to some miraculous medicine for happiness. Healing happens in the middle of my life while I’m moving.

Flowing forward: letting go, carrying life, and moving through seasons into what’s next.

Letting Go

For me, the main theme of 2025 was learning to let go.

Letting go of many of my expectations. Of old versions of myself. Of old thinking and feeling patterns, when they clearly weren’t beneficial to me anymore. I am still learning to release many of them.

I was learning to let go of the fear of judgment. Of people-pleasing. Of trying not to offend anyone, which had slowly led me to hold back with my own expression.

Introducing Myself to Myself

I started learning to know myself again, with new eyes and curiosity. To uncover old but important things in me which I had hidden somewhere deep inside myself. To introduce myself to new things that this seasons had brought into my life, but which I wasn’t giving the space they needed.

I started to listen to myself better. To express myself more intentionally.
To be okay with making mistakes.
Not to take things so seriously.
To loosen my grip on overthinking.

Following My Dream and Creating

In 2025, I began slowly changing my career to finally pursue my dream of becoming a life coach. Even when it felt it didn’t make sense to start from scratch and leave behind my master’s degree in civil engineering and 10 years of work experience. I also decided to aim to coach internationally, which meant I needed to improve my English significantly.

After starting my life coach studies, I created Within Change, hopefully my own future brand. It is a name and platform that allows me to explore, grow, and express myself, while eventually helping others to do the same.

I have now finished my studies, and I made a wonderful new friend across the world with them. I have explored new, interesting ways of expressing myself and creating content on YouTube and here on Substack. This all was completely new to me at the beginning of 2025, but I decided to jump in anyway.

Trust in Life, Stronger Faith

Year 2025 started with depression and held a lot of grief as well. I reached one sort of rock bottom. And somehow, through that, I began to see my life more clearly. In those times I also found a more stable foothold in my faith in God. Maybe it helped me to be more honest with everything, and to trust in life. To let go of control. To live in uncertainty without a compulsive need to be in control. And that’s what believing also is, isn’t it? Believing and trusting — without absolute certainty in your mind.

And the whole year began with something miraculous: I was growing a new life inside me. That had a part in my depression as well, which held me in its grip very strongly during the whole first third of my pregnancy. But I carried him through all those hard emotions, my uncertainties and self-doubts, doubts toward everything. And he was born perfectly healthy, being just marvellous. And he is so smiling.

Choosing Love as One of My Core Values

Now, when I look into his four-month-old, bright, curious, joyful blue eyes, I feel a deep love and gratitude that are hard to put into words.

They bring me back to a decision I made at my lowest point:
To choose love as one of my core values in my life.
To give love.
To express love.
Not to hold it back.
Not to shrink it.
Not to adjust it to fit someone else’s comfort or style to express love.

Because I’ve learned something important:

One of the most painful and unnecessary regrets in life is
not expressing love when you had it,
when you felt it, and when you had the time and the possibility to show it.

A few days ago, I came across a prayer that put into words my decision and lesson of love. The idea of not seeking love, but choosing to give and express it.
It is in the lines of the prayer of St. Francis:

“O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console,
to be understood as to understand,
to be loved as to love.”

I truly believe that the love I share will return to me. Maybe not always in the same moment, but eventually in time, in different forms. As I move toward 2026, I want to keep the value of love close to my heart.

Learning to Consciously Hold Contradictory Feelings

One of the biggest lessons from last year has been surprisingly simple: learning to hold multiple things at once, especially feelings.

I can be pregnant and still begin my career change, instead of waiting for everything to “settle”.

I can start using English now and learn as I go, not only after I feel fully confident.
I can be okay with being incomplete and imperfect while aiming to improve at the same time.

I can feel grief and regret while also feeling gratitude and love.
I don’t need to wait for the “bad” feelings to disappear before letting joy in.

This understanding has helped me when anxiety, grief, or old shades of depression start to appear again. It’s okay. I don’t need to panic or wonder why and for how long these feelings keep returning to me. Even alongside those feelings, there is love, joy, curiosity, meaning, and deep gratitude for my life, for what I have, and for everything I’ve lived through and learned.

Not Taking My Feelings Too Seriosly

Another important lesson has been learning not to take my feelings too literally or too seriously, especially when I’m tired.
In the evenings, or on days when I’m exhausted, thoughts can turn darker, heavier, and more dramatic than they truly are.

I’ve learned that I don’t have to give them so much space in those moments. I don’t need to solve or understand everything right away — or at all. I can put some feelings and worries on hold, sleep on them, and return to them later, the next day, or a week later.

Not everything needs to be solved immediately. Life has its own rhythm, and many things find their place without force. I can trust life, with all its uncertainties.

The Year of Carrying and Waiting

In 2025, I was not only carrying and growing a new life inside me, I was also growing something new within myself.

I was learning to carry life in a different way. Or maybe, to return to an old cliché, to trust that life carries me.

I learned to hold myself, my emotions, my faith, and my love in a new way, at the same time as I was holding and carrying a new life.

I also learned patience and waiting. Not only the waiting that comes with pregnancy and the arrival of a new life, but the waiting for a new kind of future to slowly take shape: a new career, a new kind of motherhood, a reshaping of myself, my health routines and everyday life. I’m not in a hurry. I can’t be behind in my own life. I’m creating it as I live it.

And in the middle of all this becoming and uncertainty, I found myself able to feel gratitude, joy, love, and a sense of enoughness already here, in this very moment.

Even if you had a hard year in 2025, I hope you remember that the hardest moments take their own time in you, and that you will get back on your feet.

And that recovering doesn’t need to be a waiting room. Some parts of us can still be healing, while others are already opening and growing.

I wish you a wonderful start to the new year 2026 <3

These were some of the thoughts that came to me on January 1st, 2026, as I reflected on the past year. I know this doesn’t capture everything, but at least some of the most valuable things to me.

If something here resonates with you, comforts you, or inspires you, I’d love to hear. And if you’ve written your own reflection on 2025, feel free to share it in the comments. I would love to read it.

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Christmas is not only a celebration, but also a time for slowing down, pausing, and resting. The holidays at the end of the year come as a relief for many of us, especially when it comes to rest. They also carry a sense of new beginnings, as the turn of the year is close. That can make resting feel a little easier; giving ourselves permission to simply rest after a long, dark, and demanding autumn. To rest without guilt, to focus on the present moment and on what we are doing right now, and to let rest do its work.

Rest doesn’t need to be earned

We often think we can rest only after everything is done, once we have somehow “earned” it. But in reality, rest is a necessary and important part of life. It is what helps us cope, regain clarity, and sort through our thoughts. It’s a vital part of our well-being. When we allow ourselves to slow down and rest before we are completely exhausted, even a smaller amount of rest can be enough.

I hope you, too, are able to rest before the new year begins — before the new work period and the start of a new yearly rhythm — even if a small inner voice whispers that rest hasn’t quite been earned yet.

As for me, I plan to take naps when I feel like it. To play games with my children, do puzzles, cook simple meals. To go for walks and enjoy being present with my family. Often, it is these simple things that restore us more deeply than anything carefully planned.

One thing at a time

I also intend to minimize multitasking. To focus on one thing at a time — because when our attention is not constantly jumping around, doing feels calmer and the mind lighter. Immersing ourselves in one thing at a time makes the moment feel more whole and more peaceful. I’m not aiming for efficiency, but rather for attentiveness and gentle curiosity toward each moment.

There is also something special about Christmas and the turn of the year: they form a natural pause, a small threshold between the old and the new. When a year is about to change, it often feels easier to loosen our grip on expectations and give ourselves permission to be without direction for a while. As if it were simply more allowed to breathe, rest, and pause before the new year begins.

Whatever your situation may be, and whatever demands your mind may place on you, I wish you peaceful and restful Christmas days and the quiet in between time before the new year. 💛

Perhaps you, too, could try focusing for one day on just one thing at a time, allowing your mind and nervous system to rest through that simplicity.

When you pause for a moment, you could ask yourself: What do my body and mind need most right now?

Maybe it’s a small act, like a nap, a quiet walk or a coffee with a friend. Maybe it’s leaving something undone. Or maybe it’s giving yourself permission to be unfinished and to rest anyway.

The year is winding down, and the Christmas season is here. Most of my Christmas decorations and lights are still packed away, the house needs cleaning, and Christmas treats are still just in my imagination. I feel totally behind with Christmas preparations.

And somehow, every year I find myself in this same position. Convinced that this year will be different. This time I’ll be on time, and capture some of that magical Christmas feeling from childhood. And every year, Christmas arrives suddenly and ‘unexpectedly’.

I’ve always loved Christmas and its atmosphere. I love the contrast of snowy, gloaming and cold weather outside and the warmth and coziness inside. The anticipation and joy of gift-giving, and seeing the joy and excitement in children.

There’s something special about this season. It’s bringing the beauty, warmth, and light in the middle of the darkest season here in Finland. Most years, we have a white Christmas. Snow itself with its whiteness is reflecting the light, and making the whole landscape more beautiful and bright. There’s a sense of something pure, fragile, and hopeful in the air.

Today, for example, it’s -12°C with a few centimeters of snow, and the length of the day is only 4 hours and 20 minutes. Daylight shortens to just over 2 hours by Christmas, when it’s the winter solstice here.

For me, Christmas has always been a mix of Christian and non-Christian traditions, as my mother had always her faith, and my father is atheist. In my childhood Christmases, faith showed through church visits, reading the Christmas gospel before the Christmas meal and listening beautiful Christmas carols.

So, Christmas isn’t just a holiday. It’s a collection of images, expectations, hopes, memories, and the stories that we carry from our past into present.

The Stories We Bring into Christmas

Christmas arrives with a whole bundle of traditions, expectations, and emotional scripts we’ve absorbed while growing up. We inherit entire narratives about what Christmas is. And maybe also what it should be, with all the emotions attached to it.

These stories come from our families, and culture, from the generations before us. They seep into us subtly, and some of them we don’t even notice we’re carrying. Until we find ourselves in a relationship with someone whose Christmas traditions are different. Or we become parents and realize, we’re passing the atmosphere, the habits and traditions, the stories and beliefs down to another generation, without having questioned whether they are the ones we’d like to have and pass on.

These stories are powerful, telling us what we should do, how we should act, and how we are supposed to interpret people around us. Or how we expect other people to react with our actions, words and expressions. They shape how we experience our life — and the Christmas.

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For me, now when I have my own family, Christmas has mostly been spent at my spouse’s parents’ home, mainly the way they do it. It has worked well for our family. Especially with small kids it has been relief not needing to be responsible for preparing the whole Christmas meal. And their house is big enough so that we’ve been able to sleep over since it’s a couple of hours’ drive to their place. But their Christmas traditions are of course somewhat different than in my childhood home.

And just now I realize, that year after year, I chase some vague, magical atmosphere and the feeling of childhood’s golden Christmases, but I haven’t ever deeply reflected and examined what it really is that I’m longing for.

And when my expected Christmas feeling doesn’t materialize, I feel the subtle disappointment settle in. It’s even a bit absurd: I have been expecting something, but I’d never actually clearly defined what that something is.

When Memory and Reality Collide

When I look at my yearly ‘Christmas wishes didn’t meet the reality’ pattern, I notice that there is certainly nostalgia from my childhood memories mixing into my expectations too.

Nostalgia has an excellent way of polishing the past, making it appear more magical, coherent, and emotionally rich than it really was. Childhood Christmases weren’t extraordinary just because of what we did and had, but because a child’s world moves differently; slower days, bigger anticipation and excitement, and the comforting feeling that someone else takes care of everything.

As adults, we try to recreate that inner landscape, without realizing that the very conditions that made it possible belonged just to a different season in our lives. So each year, even without saying it out loud, surfaces a fragile hope: Maybe this year, the old magical feeling returns in its familiar form.

But I overestimate my energy and motivation, and underestimate the emotional and practical weight of the season and the unexpected situations of family life. And then feel surprised when Christmas appears at the doorstep.

I also realize the version of myself I imagine is a slightly idealized one; more organized, more prepared, more … perfect. Someone who would prioritize Christmas preparations above everything else when in reality I still prioritize my time differently.

And when that imagined version doesn’t show up, the expectation and reality collide, and the familiar disappointment settles in.

Breaking the Pattern

I realize it’s time to look at this with a new awareness, and break the pattern. Something I’ve never actually considered is that I should approach Christmas the same way I approach any intentional change in my life: Getting clear about the desired outcome, becoming aware of the stories I carry into it, and clarifying the elements that bring me the feeling I’m aiming for.

The first step is simple: clearly name what I’m truly hoping for. Not vague feelings tied to nostalgic memories, but the small, concrete elements that create warmth and the feelings I’m aiming for. When we define what we’re longing for, the longing becomes softer and more reachable, instead of a blurry expectation that turns into anxiety when it’s unmet.

Now I know for a fact, that I won’t recreate the childhood Christmas atmosphere, or reach the exact feeling I’m imagining. But it doesn’t have to mean Christmas won’t be full of good feelings, and even a bit magical.

When I start to reflect on my Christmas expectations, and ask myself: If Christmas doesn’t happen the way I imagine it, what does that say about me? I realize, the answer I’ve used to give is disappointment. Feeling like I have failed and haven’t been enough.

And now I can see, it’s not really all about the Christmas days and how they appear to be. It’s also about a story with nostalgia I’m carrying; a golden memory of childhood Christmases that I’m trying to recreate and pass on to my children.

So practically, year after year, I’ve been expecting something I’ve never defined. And unconsciously tried to create something that’s just not possible.

And the funny part? Even if I somehow could recreate the magical atmosphere from my childhood Christmas, the way my children experience and feel it would still be different from mine.

Defining and Creating My Own Christmas

So now I pause and ask myself these two questions:

1. What kind of Christmas atmosphere do I want to create, and what are the specific elements that’ll bring me the feeling I’m aiming for?

2. What small action could I take each day to bring a hint of Christmas magic into that day?

For me, the answers are becoming clearer.

I’ll set up Christmas decorations and warm lights at least in our living room so the space feels calm and cozy. A 1000-piece puzzle with the kids, which has been my own Christmas tradition. At least one day outside in the snow with the kids. Visiting my grandpa and my dad, and seeing two of my longtime friends during the Christmas season. Christmas Eve and Day with family, unhurried and present.
And gifts, especially for the kids, which are mostly taken care of already.

Those are the elements that will give me the atmospheric Christmas feeling I’m longing for. Anything beyond that will simply be a bonus.

Final Thoughts

The patterns and traditions we repeat can energize us or wear us out, shaping how we show up in our days. But once we become aware of the pattern and the stories behind them, we’re no longer trapped in them. We get to reshape them.

Christmas isn’t something we receive. It’s something we create through our choices and small actions, including the mood and attitude we bring into each moment.

If you’re feeling the weight of Christmas preparation and feeling behind right now, I hope these thoughts give you a bit of comfort and maybe a new angle to approach Christmas.

Take a moment for yourself. Sit down and have something warm to drink.
Take a slow breath, and ask yourself:

What kind of Christmas atmosphere do I want to create, and what are the specific elements that’ll create warmth and the feeling I’m aiming for?

I wish you a beautiful Christmas season filled with joy and connection!

I see your faces, they’ve come older.
Not just the many years we’ve shared,
but the troubles carrying our shoulders.
They weigh us down, I see you long for peace.
I miss your smile to me,
I really miss the way we used to be.

I see your faces,
they are often different to me.
I wonder if somewhere underneath,
where I can’t see,
is still heart beating — longing for me.
If it’s just waiting
for me, for me to believe.

You see my faces, they may be different to you too.
Discontent and longing — so many things you know I wish you’d do.
We’re both tired
to see the things we see,
on each other’s faces.
Will you choose to be without me?

It’s like the tide, that rises and recedes.
Or how would I know?
When only waters so deep I’ve been.
I wonder how we’ve managed,
so long to work on change.
We’re both quite gritty,
making the inner rearrange.

In those memorable, brittle moments,
when I finally see your face,
the blind is drawn back,
I can see the bareness in your gaze.
The sparkle of your soul,
vulnerable and bright.
And as quickly as I saw it,
returns the old kind of sight.

And I can see your faces,
mainly tired, many of them.
But I still keep waiting,
for that gaze that holds a gem.

I really can’t deny it;
we’re both quite strong.
In turns we take the lead,
to keep both of us along.

And that’s the thing with faces,
they don’t always speak the truth.
Underneath them all,
there’s the core part of you.

If I widen my sight,
I do see the love you share.
May not be the words just right,
but all the deeds reflecting your care.

All the deeds you choose to do
for us, and for me,
show me we can work this through,
if I’d just believe.

I shouldn’t focus on your faces,
or on the words I’d love to hear.
That’s just an old story
tied around my deepest fear.

I should refocus my attention,
faces don’t hold the truth.
Through my storytelling glasses,
it’ll turn everything more blue.

Now I don’t believe the faces,
I don’t believe the blue mood.
Just echoes the old stories,
planted in my mother’s womb.

Now when I see the faces,
I know my story isn’t true.
And what’s the most important:
I return my belief in you,
return my belief in me.

Finally, I re-believe
I believe in you and me.