ANXIETY

The end of something

Do you know what’s the best thing about mental disorders like panic disorder or anxiety?

It’s that if you take responsibility for them and start walking the path of conscious trauma healing and self-work, a process begins where sooner or later you get closer to yourself.

And who knows?
Maybe something wonderful will unfold from it, something that might even give you a new life purpose.

I didn’t think much about whether to share the past 9 years of experience I’ve had in this area.
I simply felt that no, I wouldn’t. I considered it too intimate to put into words, and I doubted whether anyone would even care.

At some point, something shifted in me, and I decided to start a blog where I would share my experiences about the parallels between subconscious cleansing processes and creation.

Because most of the paintings I share here are imprints of a long healing journey.

I see more and more people struggling with similar states, many of whom live believing that there is no solution – at best, only symptom relief.

I want to shed light on the opposite of that.

It’s so interesting to look back at a former version of ourselves.
Seeing the change and the puzzle pieces that came together over the years is a wonderful feeling.
To see how beautiful things can emerge from life situations that once seemed hopeless.

Even the memories of the darkest times come back to me with love, because looking back, I can see that everything happened for me.
I just couldn’t grasp that back then…

Now it’s 2025.
The closing of a nine-year cycle that began in 2016.
Back then I wouldn’t have thought my life would be turned so upside down.

I had just come out of a typical self-destructive adolescence, full of repressed feelings that ended up in anxiety.
I couldn’t even experience a little bit of happiness — there was always something in the background that made me feel I had to worry.

By the time I turned 20, this had escalated into constant anxiety.
You could say I was living a hardcore self-destructive lifestyle. On a subconscious level, I punished myself for everything, hiding behind a smiling mask.

I had been devoted to an extreme sport for years, in which I did have some achievements, but it came with more disadvantages than benefits.
I lived under constant pressure to perform, even at the cost of my physical safety.

Eventually, my higher self had had enough and decided to twist my knee during a movement.
The result: ACL tear, with a year-long forced rest.

My years-long passion ended overnight, and it was uncertain whether I could ever continue.

The truth is, it was a huge opportunity for me – but at the time I wasn’t willing to see it.

I was forced to look inside myself a little.
Of course, I experienced it as punishment. And soon enough, the self-destructive program kicked in, which I masked with constant entertainment.

Well yes. I think many of us are conditioned for this.

But no matter how much I tried to look the other way, my body kept reminding me of my unresolved issues.
The best example of this was the hangovers.

I remember the very first experience like that: this “something’s not right” feeling came over me…
Well, how could it have been right?

A 40-degree tent, four days of drinking, only a few hours of sleep, and in a bad mental state.

Then suddenly something was really not right — I just wanted to be alone, away from people, in a quiet place. But since I couldn’t find anything even close, more drinking seemed like the most obvious solution.

At least it numbed the anxiety somewhat, which was slowly growing in the background month after month, until I reached the final breaking point.

During that time, of course, I often made promises to myself — which I usually broke the very first weekend.

Half a year later, I was already dealing with more serious physical symptoms.
In November I had my knee surgery, and after that came what I believe is called a breakdown.

I was at home with a brace on my leg, had been there for about two weeks, and slowly decided to go for my first walk.
I grabbed my little crutches, opened the door — but what happened next, I truly did not expect.

How can you describe the indescribable?
Only those who’ve been through something similar will understand…

I completely lost my sense of reality.
It was as if I had stepped into an unstable dream, where I felt even my breathing would stop if I didn’t pay enough attention to it.

I was sure of where and when I was — but I couldn’t feel it.
It was like I had been unplugged from “the matrix”?
Yes, I think that’s the closest description of what I experienced.

People scared me the most — as if I had suddenly found myself among the NPCs of a video game.
My God, how terrified I was — looking back now…

I thought maybe I had suffered brain damage, and that my knee surgery had something to do with it.
I tried to find some logical explanation, but I couldn’t calm myself down.

By the time I got home, I had completely broken down, and I hoped it was just some one-time glitch in the system.
“I’ll be fine tomorrow.”
Of course, I wasn’t…

Back then I still believed in shallow ideas like: if I spent some time with my friends, I’d relax into the situation and forget my torment.

The problem was, I could barely even make it to a certain place.
It didn’t matter how many times I’d walked that route before — new rules were now in effect.

I walked with my head down, trying to take in as little stimulus from the outside world as possible. Meanwhile, I thought about what my role models would do in my situation.

The experience I had from extreme sports gave me at least some strength at the time, reminding me of all the seemingly crazy things I had dared to take on.
That’s where I truly learned to push my limits and expand my comfort zone.
I approached my fears as challenges.

The only difference was, this challenge didn’t end.
It was a constant physical feeling paired with dread, which consumed huge amounts of energy because I had switched into a permanent state of alertness.

So I eventually made it to a friend’s apartment, where the others had already gone through a few bottles of alcohol.
As soon as I stepped over the threshold, I wanted to cry and run out, but there was no turning back.

Suddenly, I found myself in the middle of a people-packed apartment, about to face another trial.

I couldn’t stand the questions aimed at me — I was afraid they’d really see me.
So I kept a straight face and turned to drinking, ignoring the thought of the next day’s dread, which — after a blackout — came sooner than I expected.

The first thought I had then was that I needed to get home immediately.
I put on my coat with trembling hands, hoping it would somehow soften the terrifying noise of the outside world.

It was as if I walked that 20-minute route holding my breath.
My senses became even more heightened, greatly intensified by the morning rush and lack of sleep.

When I got home, I had perhaps my first truly honest moment in a very long time.
For a moment, my mask dropped.

The frustration of the past months — or maybe years — broke to the surface in tears.

That’s when the interesting things began…