I Never Chose the Easy Way

I’ve never chosen what’s obvious or simple.
Never the easy way — not because I wanted hardship, but because I’ve always known that ease rarely brings true fulfillment. That deep sense of satisfaction that only comes when you’ve made it on your own strength.

Yes, it’s made life tougher at times. I’ve taken detours, been knocked down, started over. I’ve made mistakes and paid the price. But every fall, every restart, every risk has given me something invaluable — a story.

That’s why I can now understand other people’s struggles.
I see the fatigue in the eyes of those who’ve carried too much. I recognize the voice of someone trying to find the words but not daring to speak. I know what it feels like to stand alone in the storm and still refuse to give up.

Maybe it’s only now I can say it with certainty:
I’m a storyteller — for real.

Storytelling Isn’t About Inventing Stories – It’s About Living Them

There’s a myth that storytelling is about writing, speaking, or entertaining.
It’s not.
Storytelling isn’t about inventing stories — it’s about living them.

It’s about standing in the middle of your own chaos and still finding meaning.
Turning your wounds into words, your experiences into images, and your failures into insights.
It’s about daring to share what you once hid.

I believe in stories that smell of life. The ones with scars, silence, and doubt woven into them. That’s where truth lives.

There comes a point in every person’s life when you must ask: Am I living my own story — or someone else’s?
For me, that question came when I had to choose between comfort and courage. And I already knew the answer before I finished asking.

Am I Taking the Safe Route Now? No. I’m Moving.

I’m leaving Sweden.
I’m leaving the familiar — the language, the culture, the rhythm I could navigate blindfolded.
Why?
Because I need to feed my soul with new trails to walk.

I need new perspectives, new sounds, new faces. I need people who don’t know me so I can rediscover who I am. I need to stand on foreign ground and feel that mix of fear and freedom that tells me — I’m alive.

I didn’t choose Spain, with its sunshine and Swedish enclaves.
I chose Bansko.
A small town in the Bulgarian mountains.

Here, everything is different.
I hear the language but don’t understand the words. I see traditions older than my own history. The mountains seem to watch me, asking: Are you ready to live what you preach?

And my answer is yes.
That’s why I came here.

Living Without Support Wheels

It’s easy to live comfortably.
To rely on systems, routines, and a familiar culture. To have support wheels that keep you balanced. But I chose to remove them. I wanted to feel life without stabilizers.

Only then can I truly feel.
Only then do I become present in the small things — when I buy food without understanding the label, when I try to express myself in a language I barely speak, when I stand before the mountains and realize how small we humans really are.

I wanted to see Sweden from the outside.
When you stand too close to something, you can’t see its shape. You see the details, not the whole. It’s only at a distance you understand what you’ve left, what you miss, and what maybe never mattered that much at all.

I’m not moving away from Sweden — I’m moving forward.
Toward a new version of myself.

The Mountain Within Me

Bansko has become more than a place. It’s a symbol.
The mountains here remind me daily why I came. They stand tall and silent, like teachers saying: “There are no shortcuts here.”

Living here is like climbing.
Each day brings a new height, a new decision, a new realization. And every time I think I’ve reached the top, I discover another — higher, harder, more beautiful.

But that’s how life should be.
Not a straight path, but a winding one where every step means something.

I’ve realized that storytelling isn’t about telling a story anymore.
It’s about being the story.
Everything I do, every choice I make, every place I move to — it’s all part of the same book.

And somewhere up there, on the summit of my inner mountain, there are no final answers — only the next chapter.

To See the World — and Myself

When I walk through the old streets of Bansko and hear the church bells echo across the peaks, I know I did the right thing.
Here, people live close to the earth, to their traditions, to one another. They’re not in a rush. They don’t chase — they exist.

I’m learning to see life through different eyes.
I’m learning patience. I’m learning humility. I’m learning to listen. And perhaps most importantly — I’m learning to let go of control and let the story lead me.

I’ve always been the one steering the ship, planning, coordinating, leading. But here in the mountains, I sometimes have to stand still.
And when I do, I start hearing something I haven’t heard in a long time — my own inner voice.

It whispers: You did the right thing. You didn’t choose the easy way. You chose the true one.

The True Story

The true story isn’t born out of perfection — it’s born out of motion.
Out of the courage to leave what’s known. Out of the will to begin again. Out of the belief that you can create anew, no matter your age, your language, or your past.

Storytelling isn’t something you learn from a course. It’s something you become — by living fully.
And I believe it’s only when you dare to step into the unknown that the real story begins.

That’s why I’m here.
To let life keep writing through me. To get lost sometimes, yet always find my way back to what’s real.
To live, to feel, to see, to listen — and to tell.

I’m not finished. I never will be.
But I’m climbing.
And every step up the mountain makes me more human, more present, more storyteller.

I am a storyteller now.
For real.