A sentence that hit me recently:
"A generation of young Germans had become accustomed to having the entire content of their lives delivered gratis, so to speak, by the public sphere… Now that these deliveries suddenly ceased, people were left helpless, impoverished, robbed and disappointed. They had never learned to live from within themselves, how to make an ordinary private life great, beautiful and worthwhile..."
From Defying Hitler, talking about the generation who came of age during the Great War, then found themselves in a rare moment of peace—and didn’t know what to do with it.
This felt familiar. There’s so much out there that feels like poison for the body, the mind, the spirit. I keep circling around privacy (hi, Meta AI inside WhatsApp), around the online world making me long to be offline—and then, when I’m offline, I crave being online again. Around the quest for roots and stability. Around the idea that living a low-stress life might not be selfish at all, but actually public service if you’re preparing to bring healthy children into this world who hopefully won’t need to be saved by hospitals right away.
So: I’m at the beach, typing this with a bluetooth keyboard on my little iPad inside a ziplock. There’s definitely sand involved. I might regret this. I’ve been eyeing a waterproof keyboard. I do need to figure out money better if I want to do all the things I dream of. But then again, do I really? I seem to be doing pretty damn well right now.
March was… serious. I’m still spending a lot of it asking: what does it mean to take care of Linda—not according to anyone else, but in my own terms? And what would that look like in practice?
Not all of it was pretty. At times I’ve wondered if I’m manic, or if I’m just sober and finally feeling the anger I had no space for before. I found myself reading Jung’s Red Book, reading about him preparing a lecture on schizophrenia and wondering if it’s coming for him too. I related more than I’d like.
This month held so many questions and so few answers. Tension everywhere. I used to be pretty good at holding the “both/and” of things—this month even that starts to slip away.
At the center of it: technology. From AI to smartphones, to heated houses and LED lamps. Asking: you saved my life—can it be that you’re also destroying it? And if yes, then where is my responsibility? How do I take care of myself without turning my back on the world? How do I be part of the world without constantly betraying myself?
I’ve been deep in the addiction frame lately—going to 12-step meetings every day, reflecting on where my life has been out of control, where I’ve tried to control it too tightly. Trying, for real, to make contact with something I can call God. Because I need that contact, not in a cute way. In a survival way.
And yeah—my relationship with technology is feeling more and more like addiction. The overflow of messages and docs and notifications and photos and podcasts and articles and solutions to problems I didn’t even know I had. And through it all, losing my capacity to make decisions, to absorb, to compare, to even pay attention.
Meanwhile, the basics—knowing where I am, what I need, what’s around me, who I am—feel like immense struggles.
And the irony is, I’m only seeing it because I’ve been so online. It’s the online world that’s made me long to be offline. And then the moment I disconnect, I feel the pull to plug back in. I don’t know yet if it’s withdrawal that will pass, or a deeper truth that I’m someone who only finds connection through the net. The second one sounds suspect. But still. I wonder.
So, what actually happened in March?
I cooked for myself twice a day, probably 90% of the time. Real meals, organic, green, with seeds and lemon and seaweed and good raw olive oil. I took my time. Rushed sometimes, but mostly let that be. I never cooked this much and this consistently just for myself, a success?
I went to at least one 12-step meeting daily, often more. Some days I really participated. Other days I just showed up. But I always showed up.
I walked a lot. Got sun. Took Epsom salt baths. Started supplements after doing my research.
I began searching seriously for a new therapist or coach. Had a few intro calls. One therapist I’m seeing now might not be a match. A coach I liked is in the US and a bit out of budget. A part of me really wants someone local.
I got serious about sleep and screen habits: no phone before breakfast or after 8pm, laptop off by 9, then reading or journaling until bed. It worked about 80% of the time, with some soft rebellion nights spent chatting with AI until midnight. This might or might not revert to too much screen time all the time.
I figured out how to stop drinking both tap and plastic bottle water. Now I have a spring nearby for big refills and a glass bottle delivery service. Feels important.
My EMF meter arrived. Still in the “play” phase, but it confirmed Wi-Fi and phones emit a lot. I’ve become much more aware of where I keep the phone on my body. Awareness is the phase I’m in.
I journaled a lot. Mornings, during the day when I’m stuck, evenings. Pages and pages. It helps me unspin the spinning thoughts. Funny how I can write for hours but still answer “How are you?” with a 10-second summary.
I kept circling around where I want to live and what kind of relationship with technology I actually want.
And maybe I got a little clearer.
What kind of living environment would help me thrive?
Somewhere green, nature right outside. Wake-up-and-step-on-grass level nature. Sun. Proximity to the sea. Clean air and clean food. Reliable internet somewhere nearby, not necessarily at home. A small group of kind humans close enough to see. Hot baths. Saunas. A city to visit every few weeks. That sounds like it could work.
If I could dream it up: a tiny house village in the mountains near Spezia or Massa Carrara. Or a cabin near a sweet borgo with fun people. Or maybe just a van parked on retreat land somewhere warm and gentle.
Tech-wise? Still murky. I get so much from it—talking to friends, podcasts (I’m listening to Reading the Bible in a Year), online meetings, storing and searching my thoughts. And yet, I feel enslaved. I need it to leave the house. I need it to not feel left out. I hate that Meta AI is suddenly inside WhatsApp without asking. I keep researching dumbphones, and then realize: I’m just relooping. That’s the same behavior I’m trying to break.
Sometimes I want to throw everything away. Just talk to who’s right here. Miss the train if I can’t get a paper ticket. Go slower. But there’s this fear: what if I miss something important?
I’ve been reading paper books outside lately. Twice now someone’s come up to start a conversation about it. That never happened with a Kindle. Is it the Kindle? Is it me? I don’t know. It feels different though.
One last thing. Maybe a rant. Maybe a thought.
I’m so confused by how the world works. By how we all just accept working all the time. And then what—self-care happens in the scraps? When exactly?
I’ve been doing this (unintentional) experiment of working very little, living in a place that allows that, and actually focusing on rest: eating well, sleeping, walking, tending to my mental and spiritual health, connecting with others. It takes all day. It’s a full-time job. And it barely keeps me feeling okay.
Yes, I know I’m privileged to even be trying this. But still—I don’t understand how people do more.
And I’m more present to the revolutionary stance that maybe taking care of myself isn’t just for me. That if I can stay in a regulated, grounded place, then that’s what I share with others too. Not just anxiety and stress. And on a bigger timeline—I want to have kids someday. And I want them to be conceived in a body that feels safe and trusting, not wrung out. There’s research showing that matters. But I don’t even need the research. I can feel it. So it kind of feels like a public service to spend most of my time making that possible. Maybe I’m crazy. Maybe I’m arrogant (I often am). But this is my space, and I get to say what I think. The world can take what resonates and leave the rest.
That’s it from me. I hope the beginning of Spring brought you a little clearing, a little spark, some sense of beginning again.
May all beings be healthy. May all beings be free to choose what they commit to. May all beings be happy. Thank you thank you thank you.
so much love for you and your journey. thank you for sharing it so openly with us ❤️✨