Mental Health In A Nutshell


I hear the birds singing

And I feel a ray of light caressing me.

I think I am made of the light or rather I had become the light itself,

The life itself,

The life of it.

I feel the wind caressing my hair;

It’s a sweet breeze.

It reminds me of the ghosts of Christmas past

All my ex-lovers crammed in one corner

In one part, in one heart

Inside of me.

The loneliness of nature goes deeper than my skin,

Past the blood in my veins, past every cell, past every atom

Past this Universe

Into an unknown dimension…

Making a hole right at the center

In the middle of my tiny heart.

My little guardian angel is in pain

So it makes the decision to numb it

To erase memories and feelings from the moment you press tape,, start’’.

But you see, my mind is clever

She knows how to overthink her way into freedom,

She finds a way to flashback the trauma in my nightly dreams

To make them nightmares I’m supposed to escape out of….

My mind is good at painting paradises out of lost causes

Usually by destroying them.

My mind is clever

She learned from a young age the freedom of depression,

The taste of trauma on skin

The freedom of chains around my body in the morning,

Not getting out of bed

Idealizing strangers who left scars,

Portraying sweet emotional abuse,

My mind is clever

She knows how to survive

The only problem is…

This time…she has to…


Lots of love,

Mădă ❤

Image source:


Ce a vrut să zică autorul?

Reflectam zilele acestea la ideea de a conversa. Am impresia că uneori nici măcar prin vorbe nu ne înțelegem cu ceilalți. Mai nou, tind să cred că tăcerea poate fi un răspuns mai bun decât orice altceva. Gândiți-vă și voi – a nu spune nimic spune ,de fapt, atât de multe.

Un gest, o atingere, o îmbrățișare, a fi acolo pentru cineva care suferă poate să însemne totul…deși am fost condiționați să credem faptul că vorbele sunt cele care contează. Sunt cazuri în care nu e așa. De multe ori un comportament vorbește de la sine…iar adesea cheia stă în atitudinea pe care o avem, atât cu privire la noi, la ceilalți cât și la viață.

Terapeuta mea zicea la un moment dat – ,,uneori consider că oamenii au inventat limbajul doar din nevoia de a se îndepărta și mai mult unii de ceilalți’’. În multe situații această idee se poate aplica relativ simplu.

Mai ales în momentele pe care le-am trăit în ultimul timp. Vorbind cu ceilalți, am realizat cât de diferit pot vedea doi oameni aceiași situație. Fiecare trece lucrurile prin filtrul propriu, interpretează realitatea prin ochelarii lui. Uneori mă întreb cum ne putem înțelege unii pe alții dacă fiecare e acolo, undeva, în capul lui. Trăiește în propria lume și nu mai are timp sau chef să îl cunoască și pe ….celălalt.

Oare chiar se pot întâlni 2 universuri sau acest lucru e așa, un ideal în capul fiecăruia dintre noi? Cum putem să rupem baricada, să unim spațiile dintre ochii noștri goi …atunci când tăcerea vorbește…și nu cuvintele? Suntem atât de separați, scindați în propriile lumi…oare putem sa ajungem cu adevărat să ne cunoaștem unii pe alții și să fim împreună? Dacă în ziua de azi mai știm ce înseamnă definiția acestui termen. De iubire să nu mai spun, ne-am îndepărtat cu totul de idee. Suntem prin alte filme.

Uneori e greu să ai toate răspunsurile…uneori e greu să cauți…mai ales când simți cum ușile ți se închid în față, iar ceilalți se blochează atât de tare în propriile lor universuri încât nu mai au timp de al tău. Totuși, încercăm, deoarece e datoria noastră de oameni să facem acest lucru, mai ales când suntem într-o perioadă în care vrem  să ne dăm seama în ce parte ne duce viața.

Ca să închei pe un ton mai jovial, după toată seriozitatea, vă spun doar atât:

,,Ce a vrut să zică autorul?
– Habar n-am. Nu are nici el toate răspunsurile.”

Poate reflectați și voi la întrebarea aceasta.

Cu mare drag,

Sursă imagine 1:

Sursă imagine 2:

Mismatch And My Brand New Heart

Going through the break-up is not an easy thing, especially when something that is going on between you and another person ends suddenly. You never receive a response. A goodbye text or even a phone call. Things just end.

You know that just like leaves, people change forms and what once used to fit perfectly in your heart, it fits no more. A clock who ran out of its time. A never-ending pain, loneliness inside. A break-up. Only if you could call it a breakup. Instead, you are forced to call it a mismatch, a dismantling of the pieces of your existence, another time when you gave away too much and received back too little. Just another time when your heart was burning, longing without you knowing why. Without understanding how it happened again – just another failure. And sometimes you wonder if you are the failure or the other person just failed to see your innate value.

Maybe going through a break-up is easier than having a mismatch. Easier than silence and leaving room for interpretation. Easier because you somehow have some kind of closure. With mismatches is always tricky – the other person might leave room for a comeback, for messing you all over again, for stomping on your heart until you decide that it’s over. Only if it were that easy when your mind makes up a thousand of reasons why he or she was good for you.

Truth is, both of them suck but I think mismatches are more painful, more damaging for your health or your heart. I think depressive symptoms are painful like that when they make their presence shown in the dark of the night. The moments when you prefer to go to sleep or talk to someone. It’s an unending void of unhappiness that seeps you inside yourself. It’s a pain that keeps growing on you…and somehow never healing, an old friend coming back to say: ’’hi’’. Yeah, depressive symptoms are funny like that.

Mismatches are painful because you don’t get to say your last words. You don’t get to say goodbye. It’s a slow death of the parts of yourself you thought you needed…but never dared to get them back. Someone else just took them, without your permission…and now you are left here to stare at walls and wonder  ’’what happened to us when only yesterday we were fine?’’. But you know it doesn’t matter, not for him, anyway. You were just another girl, another abandoned kid left by her mother to wonder in this world alone. Another pain in the ass….and somehow you found yourself unworthy, depleted of love. You found yourself unworthy and not good enough….and you believed it….you believed the lies…and now you are crying while writing this…you are crying with tears falling down so that the demons will hear it. That you are healing.

This crying is some kind of washing away of everything there is rotten inside, except there is nothing rotten within you. There is nothing to be fixed, just more pieces to be loved,  uncovered and cherished. Just more of yourself to be tucked in at night and hugged and read good old time stories to.

You believed for a moment that this mismatch took your time away. It took your heart away and managed to untangle your veins from the unhappiness of life. That you were over but after a while, you managed to see it just the way it was always supposed to be seen – a wrinkle in time, another experience, another way for you to discover just how strong you were without a man in your life. And now you are writing, now you are determined to see your worth and love yourself above all else. Now you are a diamond glowing in the dark.

Here you are, crying…and after the tears comes the laughter, the smile, the bittersweet happiness that the Universe knows best, that the Universe had other plans for you and you decided not to listen.

Control. Resistance. Everything in full blown. You threw it at them…yet, still, they didn’t listen. ’Cause the Universe couldn’t care less about your stupid plans. You know what they said ‚’’If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans’’’….and that’s exactly what you did, girl. You arranged everything to fit perfectly except none of the pieces fit unless you were true to yourself. And you were not true to yourself, staying strong in your therapist’s office just like that.

’’Be honest with your pain. Ask for help.’’ Pieces of advice you should have followed, but you didn’t….so instead of scolding you learn to love yourself, you learn to appreciate every part of the journey. You learn to laugh out loud and cry tears of gold and smile at this amazing experience called life…because in the end, everything was beautiful.

A mismatch? What if this ’’mismatch’’ was not just what you wanted, but exactly what you needed to be propelled towards a life of greatness, a life in which you are truly a writer?

Keep dreaming, girl. Maybe mismatches are just stepping stones towards your greatness.

Lots of love,

The Heart of An Aspiring Writer

Image source 1 & 2:

Image source 3:

What it takes to be yourself?


”Once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”

– Margery Williams


Hello, dear readers!

I read yesterday a story called “The Velveteen Rabbit” and I wanted to share with you a short paragraph from it. In my eyes, it’s about becoming authentic in life. I will let the paragraph speak for itself. Enjoy 🙂

“What is REAL?” “Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit.

“Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.”

“Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,” he asked, “or bit by bit?”

“It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”

― Margery Williams, The Velveteen Rabbit

Lots of love and always remember – be authentic each passing day. You can never get ugly, only more beautiful.


Mădălina Dan

Growing from trauma


From infidelity to break-up to emotional, sexual or physical abuse most of us have a set of traumas and it’s hard to overcome them sometimes. Or maybe, maybe we don’t have past traumas, but life challenges are just knocking at our door, trying to bring us down. Either way, I wrote this poem to remind myself every night before I go to sleep that there is a little light at the end of the tunnel. I also wrote it for everyone who is struggling right now during their journey. I wrote it to tell people: “Hold on. Better days are coming. ”:)

I’m a hurricane girl,

A resilient human being,

A butterfly,

A special person,

A voice in the silence,

A light in the darkness,

I am myself

And I have power

Power to change something.

P.S when in doubt: Your voice matters and you have the power to change something. The world needs your gift. Be brave enough to use it. 

Lots of love,