Written November 2022, Zakopane, Poland
I didn’t expect to go to Zakopane and arrive home.
One month ago, I felt like I had lost myself. Depression had settled over me, initially fueled by my mum’s 6-month hospitalization, that left me wandering the hallways of that sterile castle like a ghost of myself. Old traumas resurfaced, and in my already vulnerable state I let myself get caught up in the most toxic situationship, clinging to my teenage belief that “if just someone would love me everything would get better.” Spoiler alert? It didn’t. So I did the one thing I know how to do: runaway.
A random train station in Italy
When my mum finally got discharged, and in an attempt to escape heartbreak, I took on a volunteer position aboard a tall ship in Italy, hoping the sea might heal me. Instead, it pushed me deeper into despair. Verbal abuse from the owners and grueling 12-hour days of scrubbing toilets and other menial tasks left me depleted. After two weeks, I found myself sitting at a random train station in Italy at midnight, bags in hand, and no plan. The only certainty I had was that I couldn’t endure another day on that boat.
In that moment of exhaustion and uncertainty, I remembered an Instagram story a friend had posted months earlier from what looked like a breathtaking place. I had asked, “Where is that?” and his answer? Zakopane, Poland.
On a whim, I decided to go.
I needed something—anything—that would make me feel better. I knew the mountains wouldn’t fix me, but maybe they could hold me. Science tells us that being immersed in majestic nature can reduce stress, lower anxiety, and even rewire the brain toward a more positive state. I was desperate for that shift.
You’re in the wrong place
When I arrived in Zakopane, and specifically at the Goodbye Lenin hostel, something clicked. It felt like stepping into a time capsule that transported me to a simpler, warmer time. People often say, “They don’t make things like they used to,” and for once, I understood. The place was filled with warmth, laughter, and kindness, and I was struck with the stark contrast of my previous environment.
It got me thinking; how often do we think something is wrong with us, when maybe it’s our surroundings making us feel this way? How often do we stay in places or with people, when we really should move on?
I’d spent so long believing the problem was me. But what if it wasn’t? What if it was the places I had been, the people I surrounded myself with, and the situations I had allowed myself to stay in? That realization was like a key unlocking a door I didn’t even know existed.
Finding lightness again
In the mountains, I found lightness again. For nine consecutive days, I hiked the Tatra mountains, each day with someone new. No small talk, no surface-level chatter—we delved into the kind of questions that make your soul feel seen: dreams, fears, regrets, hopes. Each connection felt like a thread stitching me back together.
When I had scratched my hiking itch, I realized I didn’t want to leave. So, I volunteered at the hostel for another three weeks, gathering more proof for my initial thesis: maybe there’s nothing wrong with you; maybe you’re simply in the wrong place.
The Goodbye Lenin hostel, with its quirky charm and heartwarming atmosphere, felt like coming home to a home I didn’t know existed. It was a reminder that we don’t have to settle for places or people that diminish us. There are corners of the world—and of ourselves—that hold the potential for joy and belonging, but we’ll never find them if we let fear keep us rooted in the familiar.
The art of belonging
In case, you need to hear this today: your calling is more important than your fear.
The art of belonging is messy, dynamic, and unpredictable. I know this now. It doesn’t happen all at once, and it doesn’t follow a straight line. But Zakopane gave me a push in the right direction. It reminded me that life can be lived in a thousand different ways and that if I’m unhappy with mine, I’m only one small moment of courage away from change. On the other side of fear lies wonder.
Sometimes, there’s nothing wrong with you. Sometimes, it’s the place, the people, or the situation you’re in that’s wrong for you. And sometimes, all it takes is a leap—onto a train, into the mountains, or even into the unknown—to find where you’re meant to be.
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