Part 11I understand that my words may seem banal, unoriginal..

Part 11

I understand that my words may seem banal, unoriginal, or even meaningless. Maybe they won’t sound inspiring. But I am not trying to say something new—I am simply telling my story. And I know that millions of people around the world are going through the same thing.

Perhaps some of you are currently struggling with loneliness, fears, anxiety, pain, depression, or a loss of meaning in life. I know how hard it is to escape this. But I also know for sure that it is possible. If I managed to do it—even if I were the only one out of eight billion people—it would still mean that it is possible.

I believe that everyone must find their own way. Depression is an illness, and overcoming it requires a comprehensive approach: therapy, medication, discipline, and a deep desire to change. I truly believe that people are capable of transformation.

After going through therapy, I felt an overwhelming sense of euphoria. It seemed like I had finally gotten better. But back then, I had no idea that there would be many more ups and downs ahead. There were moments when I felt even worse, when thoughts of suicide seemed like the only way out. But somewhere deep inside, a small spark of hope remained—a memory of the time when I had felt better. Maybe that was what kept me going and stopped me from giving up completely.

In 2020, рrоtests erupted in my home country against elеction fraud. It’s hard for me to put into words what happened, but I know one thing for sure—it changed me. My perception of the world was shattered. Everything I had known suddenly felt different. I became aware of things I had never thought about before. It was terrifying and overwhelming. And I made the decision to leave.

That decision set off a long and difficult journey: gathering documents, endlessly searching for information, learning a new language. I was consumed by thoughts about the future.
How would things turn out?
Would I be able to handle it?
What was waiting for me? I pushed myself into exhausting states of anxiety.

I was scared to leave. And a month before my departure, my grandра—the man who had raised me—passed away. Watching my grandmа break down with grief was unbearable, and the thought of leaving her alone in that раin was devastating.

Maybe my decision was sеlfish. But I knew I had to build my own life.

Even now, there are moments when I blame myself. I loved my grandmа deeply—she raised me, she was like a mother to me. But in the last few years, our relationship had become strained. She had started drin.king heavily, and it tore us apart.

Inside, I was torn apart by doubt—what was right, and what was wrong?

But in the end, I left.

When I arrived in Poland, I wrote a letter to my grandmother. And soon, I received a reply…

To be continued…

P.s The photo shows my first days in Poland