Archiwa #feyra - Untold

Get it together!

Aleksandra Strugalska — Mon, 04 Jul 2022 09:57:00 +0000

Our parents taught us to treat others the way we ourselves would like to be treated, often repeating the saying, “Don’t do unto others what you wouldn’t want done to you.” But when I was a teenager and finally gave this saying some real thought, I realized it wasn’t entirely true.

To my surprise, what feels kind to me may not feel kind to you. What you see as success, I might perceive as failure. What motivates me could overwhelm you. All of this stems from our individuality — from how profoundly unique we are as human beings.

Thomas Erikson captures this perfectly in his book “Surrounded by Idiots.” The book is painfully simple—at times I even wondered if the author was treating me like one of those “idiots,” explaining the most basic things in painstaking detail. Yet its core message is deeply insightful: Treat others not as you wish to be treated, but as they wish to be treated.

The key lies in understanding the other person. Because, as it turns out, we aren’t surrounded by idiots at all—just by people with vastly different personalities who struggle to communicate effectively with one another.

This reminds me of a scene from the Korean drama “Tomorrow” (episode 9). A man who had lost his dog searched tirelessly, heartbroken and desperate to find him. He was a graphic designer by profession, and one day, while working on a logo for a veterinary clinic, he suddenly broke down and began to cry at his desk. His coworkers, startled, asked him what was wrong. He explained that it was about his missing dog—the one he’d had since childhood.

"- A dog? It's only about a dog? [...] I thought it was something serious. Come on, don't cry. [...] A dog is a dog, how else can you call it? [..] It’s not a big deal”

- How long will you act like this? You've done too much. You can stop now.

- How could I stop? (asks the owner of the dog)

- Will you ruin your life because of a dog? And if he dies, will you too? "

I often come across videos or comments online saying things like: “Don’t worry, others have it worse,” “Pull yourself together, don’t be weak,” or “People are starving, and you’re upset about a job you don’t like?”

To me, this is a deeply toxic and emotionally violent mindset — to deny someone the right to feel what they truly feel. Suppressing emotions, dismissing them as unimportant or “disproportionate,” simply because someone else’s suffering seems greater, is one of the cruellest ways to invalidate a human being.

The coworkers mocked the man who was devastated by the loss of his dog, belittling his grief. But can grief really be compared? Can the pain of losing a dog, a child, a mother, or a friend be measured or ranked? If someone’s heart is breaking, isn’t that pain already valid enough — without the need for comparison or judgment? Do we truly have the right to quantify another person’s sorrow?

"I never had a pet so I didn't understand."

At the end of the episode, the coworkers come to their senses and apologize. They realize that it was never about the dog — it was about understanding another human being, their emotions, their pain, their grief.

We so often diminish the experiences of others — animals, children, the elderly. We think, “What could they possibly know? They’re just kids.” But is their sadness truly any different from ours? Can emotions be categorized — as more valid or less valid, more serious or less serious?

In my view, they cannot. Sadness is sadness. And none of us has the right to tell someone that they should feel less — that their pain isn’t “important enough.” Instead of judging, we should listen and try to understand. We might never fully grasp someone else’s way of thinking, but that doesn’t excuse us from showing them respect — as living, feeling beings, even if they are different from us.

Such behaviors are often deeply rooted — in our culture, our beliefs, and our learned ways of coping. We’ve been taught to focus on the misfortunes of others rather than to face and heal our own. It’s almost ironic, but we can see it even in the news: we hear that inflation in Poland is rising and the economy is weakening, but then comes the reassuring note — “in Germany, it’s even worse.” And suddenly, we feel a bit better. But why? It doesn’t change our situation at all. We comfort ourselves with others’ hardships because our mind prefers distraction — it’s easier to think about someone else’s problems than to confront our own pain head-on.

"- Compared to you - to your borders and magic being weakend - I supposed my self-pity is absurd.

- If it grievs you, than I don't think it's absurde at all."

I love quoting my favorite book, A Court of Thorns and Roses. This time, Tamlin — one of the main characters — perfectly expresses what empathy truly means. When he tells Feyre that if something grieves her, then it cannot be absurd, he acknowledges that her pain is real and valid — not smaller, not foolish, not insignificant when compared to his own.

That’s empathy and respect in their purest form. Because how is my sorrow lesser than yours? How are my struggles easier than yours? How is my happiness greater than yours?

Comparing ourselves to others only distorts our sense of self-worth and makes us dependent on external validation. We will never be the best — there will always be someone better. And even if we do reach the top, others may not let us feel it.

So instead of building our confidence and security on other people’s opinions, we should turn inward — to our own emotions, joys, and sorrows.

You have every right to feel all of it. In fact, I believe it’s your responsibility — because every emotion, every victory and defeat, shapes who you are. Don’t run away from your feelings — they are what make you human. Feeling deeply doesn’t make you weak. Quite the opposite: it proves your courage. It means you are brave enough to feel everything, even the things that hurt.

“Be glad of your human heart, Feyra. Pity those who don't feel anything at all”

The protagonist of A Court of Thorns and Roses often worries that she is more sensitive and compassionate than the others — the powerful, confident figures who seem invincible and untouched by emotion.
Standing among them, Feyre feels small and weak.

But then one of the High Lords speaks these unforgettable words to her — words that carry profound truth.
To me, the ability to see others, to show compassion toward the weakest, and to allow oneself to feel is what defines true strength.
Far greater strength than that of those who have frozen their emotions — for they are the ones trapped in the icy cage they built from fear and selfishness.

Rhysand himself points this out to the other High Lords: true power does not lie in indifference, but in the courage to feel.

"Do not condescend to her [...] Do not insult Feyra for speaking with her heart, with compassion for those who cannot defend themselves, when you speak from only selfishness and cowardice."

Sensitivity does not make us weak.
Love does not mean offering our hearts on a silver platter to be devoured by enemies.
Compassion does not make us small.

An open heart — one that feels deeply yet refuses to bow before challenges — makes us fearless, unstoppable, and profoundly loved by others.
I’ve never met a person who could call themselves a failure while being surrounded by love — and while holding a heart full of it, both for themselves and for others.

But compassion, whether for ourselves or for others, does not mean remaining in that state forever, shifting responsibility, or waiting to be saved.
It means recognizing the emotion, allowing ourselves to feel it, and then learning from it — taking action despite the pain, the fear, and the uncertainty.

Because every joy and every sorrow eventually passes.
Nothing lasts forever.
Our task is to live through it fully and act the best we can in each moment.

Organize your life.

The first publication in the Untold product series, created to share methodology for organizing everyday life, cultivating systematic discipline, and developing proper habits. Drawing from the author's experience, knowledge, beliefs, and commonly available coaching tools, she aims to inspire you to take action and present you with a straightforward approach to achieving fulfillment and building self-esteem. Written in a simple way, it contains examples from everyday life, practical tips, exercises, and beautiful graphics. Available in e-book and audiobook.

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What’s your hunger?

Aleksandra Strugalska — Tue, 16 Nov 2021 14:39:00 +0000

Hunger, danger, and fear can do fascinating things to people — they change us irreversibly. When faced with a threat, some of us instinctively start hoarding whatever we can to secure our future. We witnessed this not so long ago during the pandemic, when rumors spread through the media that there might be shortages of food and essential hygiene products.

I remember it vividly — I went grocery shopping after work and couldn’t find pasta, rice, or grains. Even salt and sugar had vanished from the shelves. It wasn’t because there was a real disruption in supply chains, but because the deliveries were planned based on standard purchasing patterns and typical consumer behavior. Once we collectively panicked and began storming stores to stock up for three months ahead, it was no surprise that we also cleared out the warehouses.

Think back to the absurd situation in the United States with toilet paper — people literally fought over it in supermarkets, and later, it was rationed to limited quantities. In our country, toilet paper remained available, but a new shortage appeared — sanitary pads and tampons. We bought them in panic too, fearing they’d soon disappear. And to think — it wasn’t genuine hunger or a lack of resources that drove us, but the mere shadow of it looming on the horizon. What truly fueled us was fear.

„Fear does something strange to people like Al. But not you. Fear doesn't shut you down, it wakes you up.”

A long time ago, I watched the Divergent series on television. I don’t remember much from it, but one quote has stayed with me to this day: “Fear does something strange to people like Al. But not you. Fear doesn’t shut you down, it wakes you up.”

Al, one of the characters, together with his friends, tried to kill the main heroine — Tris. He was terrified of being excluded from the group and losing his rank. He feared the end of his current life so much that he was willing to take someone else’s. Tris was saved by Four — mysterious, quiet, but incredibly brave, skilled, and, of course, strikingly handsome. The shame and guilt that consumed Al after the incident drove him to take his own life. It was then that Four spoke those unforgettable words to Tris.

I remember wondering what it was — that quality Tris possessed. She wasn’t fearless. She felt fear, but she acted despite it. And that’s the very lesson we learn as adults — to feel fear, but act anyway.

At first, fear often paralyzes us. But eventually, there comes a moment when we step beyond that paralysis — when there’s nothing left to do but act. That fearful numbness can last a long time and may return in similar situations, until we finally realize that it’s not fear itself that’s our greatest enemy, but the powerlessness in which we remain trapped.

I like to think of that moment as hitting our symbolic rock bottom — the point from which we can push ourselves back up, because there’s nowhere lower to go. That’s why people say the most dangerous person is the one who has nothing to lose. But I believe the person who has recognized their own state of “freeze” and overcome it is just as powerful — because they’ve understood that the real danger lies in staying paralyzed and doing nothing.

I used to experience that paralyzing fear many times myself. And afterward, I’d feel hatred toward myself — for not acting, for letting things unfold “as usual.” Now, I still feel fear in situations that once terrified me, but I respond to it differently. It doesn’t mean I’m fearless — it means my senses are sharper in moments of threat. That’s why the phrase “it wakes you up” is so accurate — because that’s exactly what happens. Fear wakes me up. It awakens my body, my senses, my instincts, and my drive to act. Anyone can learn this — how to face fear and consciously transform it into proactivity.

It’s the same with hunger. When we cross a certain threshold of hunger — just as we cross the threshold of fear — paralysis gives way to searching. And I don’t mean only physical hunger, but above all, the inner hunger — the hunger of the heart and soul, longing to return to what they were created for.

„Hunger had brought me further from home than I usually risked„

I love reading fantasy romances with a political undertone. The lands of Faerie are picturesque, enchanting, and cruel all at once. There’s something about them that draws me in and doesn’t let go. One of my favorite series is A Court of Thorns and Roses. At first glance, it might seem like a typical piece of women’s fiction — a modern fairytale filled with handsome princes, a damsel in distress, and a looming war between wicked kings and noble warriors. Yet, a careful reader soon discovers the story’s depth and complexity.

Feyre, the main heroine, and her family are starving in the midst of a harsh winter. There’s no game left in the nearby woods, so she dares to venture further — into the forbidden lands, dangerously close to the wall that separates the human world from Faerie. There, she manages to hunt a deer and kills a massive wolf, sensing that it’s no ordinary beast. For this act, she is taken beyond the wall — as reparation for the life she took.

At first, the story seems simple. But if you look deeper, you’ll realize that Feyre’s physical hunger was accompanied by a hunger of the mind and soul. As she says, “Hunger had brought me further from home than I usually risked.”

Feyre longed for freedom, love, knowledge, and change. The author masterfully illustrates that it was this very hunger that set everything in motion. Without it, Feyre would never have entered the forest. Without it, she would never have taken the risk. Without it, she would never have broken her own pattern of behavior.

Now, let’s replace the word hunger with need: “Need had brought me further from home than I usually risked.”

How often do you feel the urge to change, to free yourself from something or someone, to travel, to learn something new — yet do nothing about it? Most likely because it’s just a desire, not yet a true need. We can suppress it easily because we’re not yet hungry enough.

It’s only when the hunger grows strong that we finally break through our resistance. Only when we hit rock bottom — when we become spiritually undernourished — do we begin to move forward, beyond the borders of our comfort zone. After all, what could be worse than the numbness in which we currently exist?

Is it the end of the life we once knew — the safe, structured, predictable one? Perhaps it is. But if that end is inevitable, then whether we wait or act, it will find us anyway. And if there’s nothing left to lose, we might as well follow that need — in search of the nourishment we’ve long denied ourselves.

We can rely on our intuition, our longing, and our inner sense of worth — on the quiet conviction that pushes us forward, into the unknown.

What is your hunger? How long will you keep living in a state of deprivation — feeding on scraps that merely keep you alive? When will the moment come when you have nothing left to lose — when all that’s left is to bravely venture further than ever before, into the depths of the forest? When will you dare to risk more than you ever have, awaken in the face of fear, and reach for what will truly nourish you?

Organize your life.

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