Before the year ends… a short note
Photo: My dad & I
It’s that time of the year again…
The streets are glistening with lights, the air smells like pine and mulled wine, Mariah Carey is doing her annual service to humanity and whether you’re officially working or not, deadlines feel less important.
It’s also the season when every second post invites you to reflect on the year and plan how to do next year better, faster, wiser.
I’m not going to do that.
Instead, I want to share a small piece of what this time means to me.
I’ve always loved Christmas, even though I’m not religious in the traditional sense. I love the stillness of the night on the 24th, how the world seems to pause. When I lived in Dublin, I remember gathering on Grafton Street for a not-so-secret mini concert with the biggest voices like Bono, Glen Hansard, Damien Rice, all singing together before everyone rushed home, knowing public transport would stop for the next 48 hours.
And yet, this time is also bittersweet for me.
I lost my mum just after Christmas in 2023-2024, and this season makes me miss her deeply. So every year, I fly home to spend a few quiet weeks with my dad. To be grateful for another chance to sit together. To remember where I come from. To feel how magical my life has turned out to be despite it all.
I slow down.
I read the books my father reads.
I read the books my mother once loved.
I don’t make New Year’s resolutions.
I focus on gratitude, kindness, and connection.
That’s what restores me.
So whatever this season looks like for you - joyful, quiet, overwhelming- I hope you are gentle with yourself. I hope you let rest count. And I hope your soul stays connected to hope.
As Václav Havel once said:
“Hope is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out.”
I also want to thank you for being here, for reading my words, for allowing me to do what I love professionally, and for trusting that something I share might resonate with you, even just a little.
Wishing you a peaceful holiday season!
With love & solidarity,
Jelena
Can You Really Let Go of Your Fears?
“Just let it go!”
If you’ve ever heard that phrase… you probably know the rage that rises when someone says it. As if letting go is a button. As if you haven’t already tried.
Just Let It Go! and other pointless advise
“Let it go!”
If you’ve ever heard that phrase… you probably know the rage that rises when someone says it. As if letting go is a button. As if you haven’t already tried.
For decades, my life looked like a movie I would not have auditioned for.
My fiancé disappeared.
Then he ended up in prison.
I spent four years in excruciating pain waiting for surgery, practically living in hospitals.
Someone I loved drowned at 31.
I battled insomnia so brutal that I developed PTSD, depression and anxiety from it.
I was fired, misjudged, mislabeled, misunderstood and misdiagnosed.
All before even turning 35.
For a long time, I carried my pain like proof that life was hard, that I was fragile, that the universe somehow owed me. And yes, I pitied myself. Yes, some days I felt like a victim. And honestly? That was human.
Later, I learned I have some neorodivergent tendencies, but definitely High Sensitivity — which means I feel everything deeply, process all information intensely, and perhaps a little too fully. That notion brought better understanding, but still, no healing.
Can you really let go of fear and old pain?
Or does it live in you forever?
Here’s what I know after trying CBT, therapy, hypnotherapy, breathwork, meditation, acupuncture, reiki, somatic healing, sound baths (I research like a scientist 😅), coaching, thought-work… all of it.
You can let go of your pain and fear.
And you must.
Because if you don’t, it doesn’t just stay inside you - it spreads.
Unprocessed pain sneaks into your relationships. It weighs on your health. It shapes your choices. It distances you from the people you love. It becomes part of your identity, even when you desperately want to grow past it.
But doing it alone? Nah. I don’t think I could have. And I don’t think most people can.
I do a combination of things: I meditate, I journal, I sit with my feelings in silence and allow myself to feel whatever comes. I had a lot of pittiness, sadness, fear. I allowed it because I needed to know what I was working with. And then I brought this in conversations with my coach.
Even now, as a certified coach myself who helps others rebuild trust and confidence after heartbreak and loss, I still work with a coach. Because knowing the path is not the same as walking it. I have a guide I trust and it makes me a better guide to others.
That’s me. You might be different.
If one hypnotherapy session cures you — please send me their number, because I’m jealous 😂
But here’s what I want you to remember: Healing is not a standalone event; it is a relationship with yourself that takes time to build.
If anything in this post reflected even a small part of your story, I’d genuinely love to hear from you. Not to sell you anything. Just to connect. Healing is not meant to happen in isolation.
With love & solidarity,
Jelena