Sez, this poem reaches deep. Sitting with it, I see how much my understanding of being—and doing—has changed.
I’ve been on sick leave for 13 months now, and the probability of never returning to work in the classic sense grows by the minute. The moment I stepped back, I fell—like free-falling from a commercial jet at 800 mph, plummeting 37,500 feet in 49 seconds, crashing into stillness. The impact was profound. I was no longer able to do—not because I wouldn’t, but because I couldn’t. My body, my mind, my entire being refused. And so, I learned from the inside out what it meant to just be.
Reading this now, I see how my priorities and definitions have shifted. Sitting in that jet, I was still acting in chronic trauma. I only reached a post-traumatic state about five weeks after stepping back. Until that moment, I was my trauma, living it, breathing it, functioning within it. Nobody—except my therapists—seemed to grasp that. And up until now, I think I unconsciously measured my mental, physical, emotional, and professional capacity against that trauma-induced performance, the very thing that brought me to this point.
My definition of healing has changed. And yet, until this moment, I hadn’t changed my definition of performance. And now, I see it clearly: those old standards no longer apply. They never did. And I never want to return to them.
This realization crystallizes something else—why returning to the German workforce, at least in the traditional sense, is simply not feasible. It’s not sustainable for me. I have already given everything I had. And I refuse to pour myself into anything that does not offer a return on my happiness, my soul, my values. I will no longer comply with a measure of professional worth that depletes rather than nourishes.
And that’s why I find so much of what I seek reflected in spaces like this, in voices like yours, yet so rarely in real life here in Germany. Often, what I encounter instead is disbelief, a lack of understanding, a refusal to see that life is not what we do—but what we are.
Once again, I'm thrown into the heart of what it means to share this existence with another, Jay. There's so much about your 'refusal' to go back that resonates with me. Like you say, it's no longer a choice. How you orientate your life now will be interesting - what is the price you are willing to pay for your sanity? This, I ask myself often...and the more I settle into what is most meaningful and true for me, the easier it is to say goodbye to certain things, certain comforts. I'd love to know how this journey unfolds for you. Something that really struck a chord with me is, "I think I unconsciously measured my mental, physical, emotional, and professional capacity against that trauma-induced performance, the very thing that brought me to this point." I love the irony, the paradox, and just the simple truth of this - thank you.
Sez, your words reflect so much of what I’ve been sitting with. The way you describe letting go of certain things, certain comforts—resonates deeply. It’s not about refusing to return; it’s about recognizing that the option, as it once was, no longer exists. And yet, I am still partially bound to that system for my existence.
Right now, I am trying to find a way that is more sustainable for me, however that may look. It’s unfolding as I go, without much of a plan—except for the hope that somewhere overseas, there might be a place willing to offer me employment and help me secure a visa. A work and travel visa is no longer an option for me, and at this point, I can’t support myself through writing alone. At the same time, how the German social security system categorizesmy ability to work or not might have an influence on which path I can pursue and which I can't.
So, I move forward within these constraints, doing what I can to carve out something different. I don’t yet know how this unfolds, but I know I won’t rebuild in the shadow of what broke me. This exchange, this space to reflect beyond expected answers, means a lot. It’s rare, and I don’t take it for granted.
Thanks Sez for the reminder that I don’t “have” a life to live but that I am life, living. Once when searching for “my purpose “ in conversation with a wise friend she said that my only purpose here on earth was to breath. All the rest is just mind imposed fluff and stuff🤭. So when I don’t know what to do next I breath. Repeat. Much love and thanks to you, Kara
Absolutely beautiful xx
Wonderful to connect with you today, Stella. Have a good week!
Thank you Sez … love this for my Monday morning :)
So happy to 'see' you again, Andy 🙏 I hope you are well!
‘Quietly feel what it’s like to simply be lived’
Beautiful 🙌🏻 I’m going to take this into my days and let life fill me up instead of always filling up life!
Thank you Sez! ♥️
I liked this too..
Sez, this poem reaches deep. Sitting with it, I see how much my understanding of being—and doing—has changed.
I’ve been on sick leave for 13 months now, and the probability of never returning to work in the classic sense grows by the minute. The moment I stepped back, I fell—like free-falling from a commercial jet at 800 mph, plummeting 37,500 feet in 49 seconds, crashing into stillness. The impact was profound. I was no longer able to do—not because I wouldn’t, but because I couldn’t. My body, my mind, my entire being refused. And so, I learned from the inside out what it meant to just be.
Reading this now, I see how my priorities and definitions have shifted. Sitting in that jet, I was still acting in chronic trauma. I only reached a post-traumatic state about five weeks after stepping back. Until that moment, I was my trauma, living it, breathing it, functioning within it. Nobody—except my therapists—seemed to grasp that. And up until now, I think I unconsciously measured my mental, physical, emotional, and professional capacity against that trauma-induced performance, the very thing that brought me to this point.
My definition of healing has changed. And yet, until this moment, I hadn’t changed my definition of performance. And now, I see it clearly: those old standards no longer apply. They never did. And I never want to return to them.
This realization crystallizes something else—why returning to the German workforce, at least in the traditional sense, is simply not feasible. It’s not sustainable for me. I have already given everything I had. And I refuse to pour myself into anything that does not offer a return on my happiness, my soul, my values. I will no longer comply with a measure of professional worth that depletes rather than nourishes.
And that’s why I find so much of what I seek reflected in spaces like this, in voices like yours, yet so rarely in real life here in Germany. Often, what I encounter instead is disbelief, a lack of understanding, a refusal to see that life is not what we do—but what we are.
Thank you for this.
Once again, I'm thrown into the heart of what it means to share this existence with another, Jay. There's so much about your 'refusal' to go back that resonates with me. Like you say, it's no longer a choice. How you orientate your life now will be interesting - what is the price you are willing to pay for your sanity? This, I ask myself often...and the more I settle into what is most meaningful and true for me, the easier it is to say goodbye to certain things, certain comforts. I'd love to know how this journey unfolds for you. Something that really struck a chord with me is, "I think I unconsciously measured my mental, physical, emotional, and professional capacity against that trauma-induced performance, the very thing that brought me to this point." I love the irony, the paradox, and just the simple truth of this - thank you.
Sez, your words reflect so much of what I’ve been sitting with. The way you describe letting go of certain things, certain comforts—resonates deeply. It’s not about refusing to return; it’s about recognizing that the option, as it once was, no longer exists. And yet, I am still partially bound to that system for my existence.
Right now, I am trying to find a way that is more sustainable for me, however that may look. It’s unfolding as I go, without much of a plan—except for the hope that somewhere overseas, there might be a place willing to offer me employment and help me secure a visa. A work and travel visa is no longer an option for me, and at this point, I can’t support myself through writing alone. At the same time, how the German social security system categorizesmy ability to work or not might have an influence on which path I can pursue and which I can't.
So, I move forward within these constraints, doing what I can to carve out something different. I don’t yet know how this unfolds, but I know I won’t rebuild in the shadow of what broke me. This exchange, this space to reflect beyond expected answers, means a lot. It’s rare, and I don’t take it for granted.
The balm of our times. Thank you Sez 💜
if only i'd known
Thanks Sez for the reminder that I don’t “have” a life to live but that I am life, living. Once when searching for “my purpose “ in conversation with a wise friend she said that my only purpose here on earth was to breath. All the rest is just mind imposed fluff and stuff🤭. So when I don’t know what to do next I breath. Repeat. Much love and thanks to you, Kara
Phew, such a relief :) ♥️