Life with Nena

How are you?   Now that I’ve written a bit about all the main topics constantly spinning around in my brain like a broken record, it’s starting to look like a puzzle coming together. To be honest, I feel a bit… empty. Like I’m doing everything and finishing nothing. Yep. That’s exactly it. And no, I'm not writing this to get sympathy from anyone. I just want to share it. To put it out there. I know how to be a workaholic. Trust me, I live in that 80% zone. The other 20%? That’s reserved for complete, unapologetic laziness. And guess what, I’ve finally learned, the hard way of course, that when your body and mind are screaming for rest, you have to listen. You either rest or you break. No in-between. So this post… it’s about everything and nothing. Or maybe it is something. We’ll see. People are often surprised or disappointed by how others behave. But you know what? I’ve stopped expecting anything from anyone. At all. Somewhere along the way, people became so hollow, so detached ...

 Your body, your choice, your voice This post has lived in me from the very beginning. I always knew I wanted to use my words to create something more than just content. I wanted to build a space where people feel seen, comforted, and less alone. A space that offers hope, even in the darkest moments. That’s why I write: to give strength, to share pain that’s often too heavy to carry alone, and to remind someone out there you matter. And when it comes to sexual assault, one of the most painful, personal, and silenced topics, this message feels more important than ever. Sexual assault doesn’t just mean rape. It includes every unwanted touch, no matter how “minor” someone tries to make it sound. It’s manipulation. Coercion. It’s when someone uses guilt or love as a weapon to make you do things you never agreed to. It’s threats. It’s pressure. It’s that dirty look. That vulgar comment. That hand that lingers too long. It's doing something you didn’t want to do just so you wouldn’t lose...

 The Beauty of Unread Pages There’s something sacred about writing when you know no one will ever read it. That kind of writing, raw, chaotic, unapologetically emotional, is often the purest version of yourself you’ll ever meet. So often, writing becomes the only way I can let go of everything that’s been weighing me down. The overthinking, the sleepless nights, the storms inside me that have no name. Sometimes, I wake up in the early hours of the morning, shaken from a dream I don’t even fully remember, and words just pour out. I don’t plan them. I don’t even think. It’s as if the emotions take over and guide my hand. And the strange thing is, it always feels the most powerful when I assume that no one will ever read what I’m writing. There’s a freedom in that. A complete lack of fear. No pressure to sound clever. No need to impress. It’s like flying fast and recklessly in one direction without thinking about how hard the landing will be. There’s no audience. No judgment. Just me,...