The Year My Heart Shattered and Finally Opened

There’s something strange that happens when your life comes undone. You don’t notice it at first. You’re too busy surviving, negotiating with your nervous system, and abusing ChatGPT as your late-night therapist.

At that point the questions were always the same:
Is this normal?
How long does heartbreak last for grown adults pretending they’re fine?

But slowly, quietly, something shifted.

The First Crack

For me, the change began in the middle of the year. I didn’t plan it.
Didn’t ask for it.
Definitely didn’t feel ready for it.

But something broke… and something opened.

The first crack was heartbreak. The kind that rearranges your insides. The kind that doesn’t just end a relationship but exposes everything under the floorboards: old wounds, old patterns, old versions of yourself you swore you outgrew.

Then came the anxiety.

Then the shame.

The embarrassment of being a “whiny little bitch.”
The feeling of being foolish for breaking under emotional weight when so many others are carrying so much more.

And then I saw it clearly. My ADHD brain wasn’t misbehaving. It was drowning. It didn’t have the tools to hold the storm.

Where the Work Began

This wasn’t the glamorous type of healing.
Not the neon-lit “breathwork in Bali” transformation.
Although, to be fair, a yoga retreat in the Norwegian mountains didn’t hurt.

This was the quiet work.
The painful work.
The sitting-in-a-therapist’s-chair work.
The crying-so-hard-you-forget-words work.

I learned what it meant to regulate my own nervous system instead of outsourcing my grounding to someone else. I learned that I didn’t know how to take care of myself as well as I took care of others.

The Softening

And then something softened.

Tiny victories appeared.
A calm morning.
A steady breath.
A moment where honesty won over fear.

A day where my ADHD didn’t feel like a curse but a compass.

Somewhere inside all that chaos, I started meeting myself again.

Not the version that performs.
Not the startup founder.
Not the father holding everything together.
Not the coach helping everyone else.

Just… me.

Messy. Tender. Curious. Human.

And here’s the truth I landed on:
Healing isn’t about becoming better.
It’s about becoming more you.

Why This Blog Exists

This space, these stories, the experiments in rebuilding… they’re all part of that journey.

It’s not a five-step plan.
It’s not polished.
It’s not a transformation guaranteed in 30 days.

It’s a roller coaster with parts of the track that look suspiciously DIY.
And I’m on it with my arms in the air.

This is a living archive of what it means to feel deeply, break unexpectedly, and rebuild intentionally. It’s where real connection starts: with the one person we avoid the most.

Ourselves.

Where love, compassion and kindness finally point inward.

If You’re Here

If any part of this story mirrors yours — the heartbreak, the numbness, the anxiety, the restlessness, the wanting to be whole but having no idea where to begin — then I’m glad you’re here.

This isn’t a guidebook.
It’s an invitation.

To slow down.
To breathe.
To get curious.
To meet the version of you who’s been waiting under all the noise.

I’m walking this road too.
If you want company… come along.
We’ll figure it out together.