Manifesto 2022

Written April 2022, Copenhagen, Denmark

Healing is rarely a linear journey. It’s messy, exhausting, and often forces us to confront parts of ourselves we’ve long buried. Lately, I’ve been reflecting a lot on my own process of growth and recovery. This piece is an exploration of my experience with trauma, resilience, and the power of choosing to move forward. More than anything, it’s a personal commitment to openness, to writing, and to giving weight to the things that truly matter.

The original piece is in Danish, but I’ve included an English translation.

På det seneste har jeg foretaget så meget introspektion, at jeg knap føler, jeg har eksisteret i den fysiske verden.

Det hele startede tilbage i marts måned, da nogle af mine gamle traumer blev reaktiveret, da jeg holdt min mor, der var kollapset på gulvet. I det øjeblik blev jeg katapulteret tilbage til dengang, hun jævnligt tog en overdosis og var ude af stand til at stå på sine ben. Men noget var anderledes denne gang. Mig.

Når alt ramlede omkring mig, da jeg var yngre, plejede jeg at være ret fattet udadtil, mens mit indre var ved at gå op i linningen. Når liv-eller-død situationen var overstået, lukkede jeg fuldkommen ned.

Når jeg ser tilbage, har jeg uden tvivl dissocieret fra mig selv i mindst fem-seks år indtil mine start tyvere. Jeg lod ingenting ud, og jeg lod ikke noget eller nogen komme ind. Jeg gjorde alt, hvad jeg kunne for ikke at føle noget – hvilket gjorde, at jeg hverken kunne føle smerte eller glæde. Jeg fortsatte med mit liv og ignorerede, at jeg levede i et hus i brand.

Men den mængde energi, det tager at fortsætte, når det føles som om, at du kunne smuldre eller gå i udbrud eller begge dele på et hvilket som helst tidspunkt, er så udmarvende for et menneske. For sådan er det med traumer, de er ikke ligesom minder, de er aktive komponenter lagret i din krop, der blot venter på den ene lugt, lyd, ord eller berøring, der sender dig med ekspresfart hele vejen ned i helvedes dyb igen.

Jeg vidste godt, at min måde at håndtere mit følelsesliv og mine traumer på var uholdbar. Jeg vidste, at jeg måtte ændre mig, hvis jeg på nogen måde ville frem i livet – så det gjorde jeg. De sidste fire års tid har været et mentalt Mount Everst for mig med en utrolig stejl stigning i forhold til min mentale sundhed og udvikling. Men det er som om, at det først er efter at være blevet konfronteret med fortiden, at jeg kan se, hvor resilient jeg rent faktisk er blevet.

Så jeg tænkte, at jeg ville begynde at dele mere af den rejse. Mest for min egen skyld, fordi jeg ved at skrive kan løsne knuderne på mine tankers torve – og måske, bare måske kan jeg hjælpe andre en lillebitte smule med deres egen healing.

Så dette er mit manifest til mig selv. Om at skrive mere. Om at dele mere. Om at give færre fucks for de ligegyldige ting, men flere fucks for de betydningsfulde ting. Om at være mere. For mig selv og for andre.

Lately, I’ve been doing so much introspection that I can barely feel like I’ve existed in the physical world.

It all started back in March when some of my old traumas were reactivated while I was holding my mom, who had collapsed on the floor. In that moment, I was catapulted back to when she would regularly overdose and was unable to stand on her own. But something was different this time. Me.

When everything was falling apart around me when I was younger, I used to be quite composed on the outside, while my inner world was about to burst. Once the life-or-death situation was over, I would completely shut down.

Looking back, I’ve undoubtedly dissociated from myself for at least five or six years until my early twenties. I let nothing out, and I didn’t let anything or anyone in. I did everything I could to not feel anything – which meant I couldn’t feel pain or joy. I went on with my life, ignoring that I was living in a house on fire.

But the amount of energy it takes to keep going when it feels like you could crumble, erupt, or both at any given moment is so exhausting for a person. That’s how trauma works – it’s not like memories; it’s active components stored in your body, just waiting for the right smell, sound, word, or touch to send you straight to the depths of hell again.

I knew my way of handling my emotions and traumas was unsustainable. I knew I had to change if I was ever going to get anywhere in life – so I did. The past four years have been like a mental Mount Everest for me, with an incredibly steep climb in terms of my mental health and development. But it feels like it’s only after confronting the past that I can see how resilient I’ve actually become.

So I thought I’d start sharing more of that journey. Mostly for my own sake, because I know that writing can untangle the knots in my thoughts – and maybe, just maybe, I can help others a little bit with their own healing.

So this is my manifesto to myself. To write more. To share more. To care less about the insignificant things, but care more about the meaningful ones. To be more. For myself and for others.