Me and That Famous Pink Fog

Even as a little girl, I dreamed of having a family of my own.

I did not want to become a veterinarian or a ballerina.

I wanted to become an ADULT, in capital letters.

I longed for the warmth and safety of a home.

Perhaps because my parents’ relationship was not exactly harmonious.

My mother married young and, at twenty, after a full day of labour, successfully gave birth to me.

I still feel that struggle echoed in my life.

One thing, however, I know for certain:

I was born from love, and I work for my happiness.

I am now over thirty and have several relationships behind me.

My first love found me at eighteen.

From that point, there was no stopping me.

At least not until life placed in front of me the kind of encounter where I saw myself reflected in another person.

Yes.

That famous mirror.

Looking back, I can admit it was heavily distorted.

Unconditional trust and blind romantic fog completely swallowed me.

An emotional tsunami washed over me and made me feel as though I were floating among the clouds.

I experienced a kind of care and protection I had never known.

Nobody and nothing existed beyond us.

Sounds like a beautiful romance novel, doesn’t it?

It wasn’t.

I am stubborn by nature anyway, but inside that pink fog I truly could not see anyone.

Not even myself.

My family and friends worried about me, but even that did not push me toward change.

I disappeared.

I stayed within the limits defined by my current love because I had convinced myself that where I was must be good for me.

And in one sense, I was not entirely wrong.

Every human encounter brings us a task.

Through real fear, real emotion and the lack of self-esteem, I managed to make both my soul and body ill.

I experienced good advice as an attack.

Whatever anyone said, if it did not validate the relationship, I saw it as hostile.

I became physically unwell too.

My young body began functioning like the body of a sixty-year-old.

I had little desire to live.

I lost jobs because of it.

Friendships became uncertain and disappeared.

I lived inside a lie.

I allowed another person to tell me what was good for me.

How I should behave.

Who I should be friends with.

What I should read.

What I should do.

What I should not do.

And all of it tied with a beautiful ribbon:

“This is what’s best for you, darling.

Trust me.”

Once I recognised what was happening, I decided to stand up.

Of course, before doing so, I analysed that decision from every possible angle.

But finally I understood:

This cannot continue.

I visited a naturopath.

I tried different alternative approaches.

Anything that might help me put this part of my life back into order.

I meditated for hours.

I secretly attended lectures.

But the real struggle began afterwards.

I had to start saying no to the things I had previously accepted.

I had to fight for my own truth.

Stand up for myself.

Because this was about ME.

I tried explaining:

This is not good for me.

Please accept me as I am.

It did not work.

Eventually I realised there was no point talking anymore.

It was time to act.

That was when I began to believe in my own life.

The moment I decided to start again, help arrived.

The very next day, I packed my things and moved out.

For the first time, I could breathe.

At that point, however, I had completed only the first act.

Another love entered my life.

It was special.

Different from the previous one.

After living in such a closed world, I suddenly received a degree of freedom I had never expected and did not even know existed.

I had no idea how to handle it.

I was happy.

And unhappy.

But I wanted him.

That persistent sense that I had to belong to someone destroyed everything.

I cooked.

Washed.

Adapted.

Tried above all to please.

But how could anyone truly love me when I was not fully myself?

That kind of honest, unconscious falseness is one of the hardest things to escape.

There was no obvious fact to point to.

Only a feeling telling me something was wrong.

I found myself in more and more situations that felt beneath me.

Something was not right.

“Come on.

Wake up.

Do something.”

My inner voice was screaming.

Spirituality gave me the support that eventually opened my eyes to the next step.

Every day, I read something that helped shift my thinking.

It was not easy to admit my mistakes.

Or to trust the good advice of other people.

And then to act in a way that was genuinely right and true for me.

According to my own values.

During that period, my emotional intelligence developed enormously.

But I also lost people.

I am sure I hurt some of them.

I regret that.

And I hope I will have the chance to make amends.

I used to be terrified of change.

I did not know where it would take me or what it would bring.

And still, every time, I jumped into this thing called love with my whole heart.

People often told me I lived bravely.

I think there is no other way to live.

Nobody graduates from the school of life quickly.

There is a reason we have to practise arithmetic repeatedly.

I think my romantic relationships are like that too.

I trust myself and the knowledge I have gained.

So I become a little better each time.

I make fewer mistakes.

At the very least, I do not intend to repeat the familiar ones.

There is one constant inside all change:

My own wholeness.

My self-love.

My belief in myself.

The changes I made in order to stay alive showed me that there is no point being afraid of life.

Trust yourself.

Focus on the goal, not the obstacles.

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After so many disappointments, it is difficult to trust life again.

And still I do it.

Again and again.

Because I believe in a happy ending.

In this earthly life, there is one handhold I always return to:

LOVE.

/ Cover photo: Vikó Speier /

Professional portrait photography works best when the real person remains recognisable behind the image.

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