Gyula stirred the still water inside me.
Not only through the treatment itself, but simply through his presence — something radiated from him.

After our first meeting, it felt as though I had stepped out of a centrifuge.
I knew that this time I had experienced something entirely different from before, back when I could only see the world through the rigid framework of my ingrained beliefs.

In truth, I had no idea yet how profound the rearrangements about to unfold in my life would be.

These were not catalyzed by Gyula, nor by the treatment he carried out.
He was a guide standing at the threshold of a decision, in the right place, at the right time.

He helped me tip over the edge of an ending and supported the fragile energy of my initial willingness.
Because of this, I was able to step onto a timeline that brought about radical change.

From the inside out.

The first tangible reward of this shift was the weakening of a dependency I had carried for years.
I didn’t understand it at first, but after a few days I simply didn’t crave cigarettes the way I used to.

Before that, the bond had felt so strong that every attempt to quit ended the same way — a few days of suffering, followed by a dead end.
But in December 2016, I didn’t even have to force myself to endure it.

There was nothing to endure.

This may be hard to grasp for someone who has never smoked, but for me, it marked a profound turning point.
That was when I realized that the battle I had been fighting was never really about quitting — it was about trying to treat the symptoms instead of the root cause.

Somehow, Gyula managed to aim directly at that root from our very first meeting.
To this day, I still don’t know exactly how, but something inside me shifted.

Of course, not everything was resolved.
But this change alone was enough to fill me with an immense sense of motivation.

The hours spent in retreat and drawing kept me away from almost everything that had once created the illusion of satisfaction.

There were no weekend drinking sprees, no anxiety-laced hangovers.
Alongside statues, drapery, and the occasional live model, there was little left but silence.

And I deeply enjoyed this new energy.

From the outside, it may have looked as though I had chosen solitude because of some inner pain.
After all, before that, I couldn’t stay at home for even a minute.

I was always the one who needed to know weeks in advance where and when something would happen — anything, really — just so I wouldn’t have to be alone.
By then, I had already realized that all of this was nothing more than escape.

Behind the extroverted personality, a small child was raging — one running from unresolved trauma.

In a way, this role was also a form of self-protection.

If I hadn’t stepped out of it, I might never have connected with the qualities I had kept hidden.

At least not on my own.

That is why the accident had to happen.

And the panic disorder.

There is a difference between believing something — and knowing it.

By the end of 2016, these realizations may have led me into an entirely new kind of lightness.

One I had never experienced before.

Even though I knew how much I still had to unpack before I could truly get on track.

Because at that point, the root cause of my anxiety was far from resolved.

Still, it filled me with a sense of safety to finally speak honestly with myself, instead of feeding the roles I had been playing.

As a result, many things surfaced that had previously escaped my attention.

Most of all, the sensitivity I had hidden behind my masks.

Over time, these realizations gave shape to an unfamiliar, deeply felt state — one I couldn’t fully put into words, not even for myself.

But perhaps I didn’t need to.

It was a soft, loving gaze.

Fresh and clear… difficult to describe.

The essence of it was that all of this —everything that had happened to me over the past year and a half — the accident, the panic disorder, the persistent fear of death, and the creative impulse just beginning to unfold —could not possibly have been a coincidence.

Instinctively, I felt that my path lay in a different direction than before.

And somehow, that made me feel more whole.

Gyula supported this shift at the edge of a decisive turning point.

Slowly, a positive vision of the future began to take shape — one in which I could live without fear and fulfill my purpose.

From that point on, I felt more clearly that resolving the root cause of my anxiety was also part of this journey.

Just as understanding what lies behind the generations-long “family curse” —

anxiety, depression, and alcoholism.

Once, I heard someone say that true healing is not the same as pain relief.

How true that is…

At the time, I had no idea how much difficulty this new kind of work would entail.

new direction

magic