The Hyggelig Journey

Change stretches us, tugs at the edges of who we are, unsettling the comfort of the known. It urges us to step beyond the familiar and into the uncertain — a quiet disturbance, a necessary tremor. When you long for change, a touch of order makes all the difference. Begin with clarity: what is it you truly seek? And why? The reasons must be sharp, like light slicing through mist. Then, define your place within it. What lies within your reach, and what does not? There is wisdom in recognising the limits of control — expectations lose their weight when set upon unsteady ground. And finally, ask yourself: for whom do you wish to change? Some move to escape inertia, others to embrace something newly found. But no one transforms without cause, drifting without direction. Sometimes, the presence of others steadies us, their quiet support a force in itself. And when that happens, change — however daunting — ceases to be a rupture. Instead, it becomes an unfolding.

It is not quite true that there is a pill for everything. In the West, what we see most frequently are symptomatic treatments that provide temporary control. The idea of a pill that could solve everything at once and forever is not feasible — at least, not yet. Take, for example, mood and neurovegetative disorders. There is evidence that mood is influenced by several complex physiological axes, particularly the hypothalamic-pituitary-adrenal axis, the sympathetic-adrenal axis, and the microbiota-gut-brain axis. Any alteration in how these systems operate and communicate can impact mood. And, as they are evidently interconnected, the complexity is such that achieving complete pharmacological control remains highly unlikely. However, it is important to recognise that not all mental health issues require medication. There is a wide range of techniques and fields of study that can complement psychiatry, including psychology, physical education, neuroscience, and integrative med...

One of the most common themes my patients discuss in their psychotherapy sessions is self-sabotage. For psychologists, this presents a complex challenge, particularly when the mechanism operates unconsciously. Without intending to exhaust the subject, I’d like to share a few observations I frequently come across. Why do you sabotage yourself? More often than not, self-sabotage stems from a silent decision: the decision never to be vulnerable again. This choice was likely made a long time ago, without you even realising it, as a reaction to something deeply painful. So painful that you unconsciously set a rule for yourself: “I never want to feel that again.” From that moment on, you may have vowed never to ask for what you need, never to open your heart, never to trust, never to be fully present, never to reveal who you truly are. ( “People don’t deserve me.” ) It was the way you found to protect yourself and regain a sense of control at a time when you felt powerless. The problem with ...

There is much a doctor can never say. Keeping silent hurts, but it is a necessary exercise when a patient arrives at the clinic seeking more than just a prescription for her illness. It is the part of the vocation that neither university teaches nor the church canonises. This silence is a miracle when one knows how to listen to it. The sacred religiosity of the profession ends here, faced with the sharp wit of a client probing for an answer. If, for every patient who complains about their spouse, I allowed the slightest hint of concession and my expression betrayed even the faintest amen during the consultation, rest assured, I would be sealing the marital grave myself. That’s right—when someone starts complaining, they already have their bags packed, merely awaiting a formal excuse, and nothing serves that purpose better than something straight from the doctor’s mouth to decree the end. But being a companion to silence does not prevent me from muttering a few words of caution here ...

When you control what is possible and reasonable, you demonstrate discipline and determination. When you try to control the impossible and unlikely, you demonstrate desperation. Anxiety often stems from this very struggle—the urge to control what is beyond your reach. In itself, anxiety is an adaptive phenomenon, preparing you to navigate daily life. However, when you attempt to suppress it at all costs, you not only hinder your ability to adapt but also create another obstacle. Rather than seeking control over your anxiety, seek acceptance. This means allowing yourself to think and feel whatever arises, even when it is uncomfortable. When you try to suppress anxious thoughts, you create a problem greater than the thoughts themselves—leading to procrastination, fear, withdrawal, and despair. This, in turn, can give rise to pathological anxiety and coping mechanisms such as alcoholism or compulsive shopping. Recognising yourself as an anxious person is probably quite dif...

It is a waste of time and energy to be bitter about what you did or failed to do. A hallmark of expanding consciousness is recognising that the way you used to act was not healthy and that today you would not behave in the same way. The result of this realisation can never be a feeling of guilt. No one can be punished for a lack of knowledge. When you do not understand, you do not know what you are doing.

Shadows serve only to highlight the light. Fearful, fearless — just a matter of choice. A step to the left, another to the right. When fear does not sit at your table, you think light, think blue sky, think laughter in the afternoon. When it does, you think storm, hollow streets, the echo of something missing. But why feed what depletes you? Why give breath to the shadow, why make a home for the cold? Do not lean on what could go wrong. Do not cradle the weight of fear like an old companion. It does not guide you, does not serve you. It only keeps you awake at night, whispering doubts in the dark. Better to weave the day with lighter threads — expectation of good, certainty of warmth. Let thoughts be gentle, let them land soft, like leaves on a river. Repeat. Again. Again. Until thought becomes stone, root, truth. Until the mind believes and fear forgets your name. And when the shadows press close, when they whisper at your door — smile. Say nothing. Only think light,...