Freedom is a state of mind.





Possible bipolar disorder. 

Possible schizophrenia. 

These are my personal demons who dedicated their entire existence to making my life a living hell.

People often say that freedom is a state of mind. Well, in that case I have never been free.

For years, now, I have been locked up inside a cage. The cage is carefully guarded by my demons. I am their prisoner. Prisoner inside my own mind, inside my own body. I don’t think that even Michael Scofield could break out of this prison.

I tried escaping it.

I can’t even count how many times I have tried to get to the other side of the fence, the side where they don’t have power over me, the side where I can at least feel something and not question if that was real or not, or do they want me to feel that way or I am really feeling these things.

But, every escape, ended the same.

They always find me.

They always come for me.

My demons just drag me back to my dark, filthy cell and each time they become even worse. It almost feel like they are angry because I tried to escape so they have to hurt me and make me feel more afraid of them so I don’t even think about leaving again.

I can’t escape them.

I can’t escape my own body. I can’t escape the thoughts they constantly put inside my head. I can’t escape panick attacks I get every time when I think about my future. I can’t escape not being able to take a test because I can’t focus on anything for more than few hours and later I can’t escape that awful feeling I have every time I think about how I failed. I can’t escape failure and garbage I see everyday, whenever I look into my mirror.

I can’t escape crying in the middle of the night because I remember that I promised to grandpa when I was 8 that I will make something out of my life and I am not doing that. I am just existing, wasting precious air, not going anywhere with my life.  I can’t escape over-thinking things. I can’t escape finding only bad things in pretty much everything.

I can’t escape the shame I feel everytime I look my family in the eye because I am like this. I can’t escape all those bad things that have happened in the past. I can’t escape those things playing in my head on repeat every hour of every day.

I say I can’t escape them, but the true is: I can’t escape myself.

I have been asking myself for years how do I solve this?, how do I fix this?, but the answer never came.

Sometimes I think that I don’t even want to get better. Wouldn’t I fight harder if I really wanted to be healthy?

Maybe I am afraid to get better.

Maybe I am afraid because I have no clue who am I without my demons. If they go, what stays?

What am I if they aren’t with me?

Would I still be introvert who prefers staying at home than going out with people or I would be some crazy party chick who would have many friends?

Would it still be hard for me to trust people or I would trust about everybody?

Would I still count calories and have panic attacks because I ate more than a number I set as a goal on that day or I wouldn’t even care about such things?

Would I be able to pass the exam?

Would I be prettier?

Would I be smarter?

Would I be happy?

Or would I be just another girl. What if the only thing that is interesting about me are my demons? What if the small amount of people who actually care about me wouldn’t love me anymore if I was normal?

Would I be as miserable as I am today?

Who am I if the sickness doesn’t exist?

I am afraid to find out.

So, what do I do to make it better except feeling sorry for myself?

Well, I tried killing myself, naturally. Like any other coward.

I can’t fight, but I can die and they are going to die with me. No more voices, no more crying, no more bad things… Just silence and eternal darkness. 

I have tried to kill myself a few times, I am not gonna lie about that. I am not even sure I can count all the times I locked myself in my room trying to end it all.

But, as in everything else in my life, I failed in that too.

I guess some of us just can’t do anything right.

Not even dying.

I had to find alternative way. I had to do something just to make living bearable.

Therapy was my first choice.

You guessed it – it didn’t work.

I was taught not to talk about my problems. Conceal it, don’t feel it kind of thing. So, when I was asked to talk about everything that is molesting my mind, I just kept quiet. I couldn’t be honest about all the things that have shaped the person I am today. Talking about it was not acceptable for me. It was terrifying.

One night, I was in my room, bawling my eyes out, just wanting to disappear. I failed in trying to kill myself, I failed in trying to get help from professional, I failed my exam, I failed my family, I failed my friends, I failed in everything. Why the hell am I still alive?

All those questions just kept attacking my mind and I needed to get it out of my head. Talking wasn’t an option so I started writing.

The more I wrote, the better I felt.

At first, I only was writing something that would remind a normal person of a diary but as the time went by I started creating my universes, I started creating other people, I started writing books and nothing ever made me feel better than those universes I created, universes in which I was happy and healthy. Everytime my demons or the world get the best of me, I escape in my little folder on my computer called ”BOOKS”.

Some days, I only read things I have written and some days I write some new chapters, create some new stories. It all depends on what kind of day I had. If it was horrible I usually just read chapters until I feel better, if it was okay I am usually able to write.

Over time, I wanted to get more inspiration for my books so I started exploring the world around me.

I started exploring city I live in, firstly, and then nearby cities and then nearby countries and soon I am heading to far away journey that will change my lifestyle for some time.

There is something inside of me that longs to get lost, no matter how anxious I get everytime when I have to go somewhere, I feel almost free only when I am exploring the world around me and taking  photos of every single thing that catch my eye.

That’s why I want to dedicate my blog to photography, traveling and writing about it. Because these three things have helped me to stay alive and they are still helping me to get through every day.

So, I want to welcome you to my blog.

Thank you for reading this, I hope you will enjoy my stories, travels and photographs.














2 thoughts on “Freedom is a state of mind.

  1. Photography is my saviour too, but don’t let that dark dog of Depression get to you. Ensure you have the right medical support and meds (where applicable). I don’t have mental demons as much as physical demons of Pain & Fatigue (aka exhaustion). I inherited all the severe medical conditions from both sides of my family.

    I fully appreciate where you are coming from though.

    By the way, a problem shared is a problem halved. Do find someone to talk to. DO find someone who’ll listen. Do find people who understand where you’re coming from and where you want to go. Life is not perfect and we all have our demons of some sort or other, but that’s no consolation to those of you with mental problems. Try to mix with people who are positive and uplifting. They do help a little. If I spend time with someone negative, I end up complaining and being negative too.

    I grew up in a family where you never talked about your feelings or thoughts. My Mother (right up til she died aged 88) couldn’t talk about her feelings and rarely her pain (physical mainly, but a little bit of mental anguish too).

    Travel was my saviour in my twenties. Make Travel, Writing, Blogging and Photography your saviour forever. It won’t let you down. And if you can’t afford to travel as much as you’d like, walk around talking photos. Each one gives you a glimpse of another way, another day, another city, another Way of Living. Each image gives you a window to open and breathe in the fresh air.

    Liked by 1 person

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