The Hyggelig Journey

At some quiet juncture, without spectacle or warning, the architecture of one’s life begins to feel misaligned. The roles once worn with ease grow heavy; the rhythm once followed now falters. In that stillness — where noise gives way to unease — emerges a longing not for more, but for truth. Not the polished kind offered by others, but the raw clarity that demands a reckoning with who we are, beneath all that we’ve built. At that point, we no longer seek applause, distraction, or even resolution. What we seek is clarity — elemental, grounding, liberating. But this clarity is not the kind that flatters. It is not decorative. It is not curated for display. It is the kind that requires dismantling illusions, reordering assumptions, and exposing the scaffolding that holds our being together. To know oneself is not a sentimental pursuit. It is an architectural one. Each insight is a cornerstone; each falsehood identified, a wall removed. We begin, not with grand gestures, but wi...

Some time ago, I wrote about intuition, and since then, several people have reached out to say they consider themselves highly intuitive — attuned to subtle details and able to anticipate events. Yet, through deeper conversations, I came to realise that, in many cases, this was not intuition but hypervigilance — a symptom of Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (CPTSD). This ever-present sense of risk is not a gift but an unconscious defence mechanism, developed over time to navigate unstable environments. When a person grows up or lives under sustained stress, fear, or unpredictable relationships, the brain adapts by scanning relentlessly for danger. The slightest shift in tone, a fleeting gesture, or an unexpected silence can be read as an omen, as though something is always on the verge of going wrong. But this is not foresight — it is the past intruding on the present, old threats projected onto new situations. The trouble is, this state of perpetual vigilance does no...