I’m back

Silence doesn’t mean I’m done!

A few days ago, I was sitting sleepless on the couch at seven in the morning, exhausted and in a hell of pain after struggling through a day I’d rather forget.

I hadn’t slept all night. My body was wrecked. My mind was racing. And the only thing I could manage was to write — I just had to focus on something other than the pain. I was supposed to post this back then, but I couldn’t.

It’s taken me a few days to recover. I’m only sharing this now – because I think it’s needed. For me. For those of you who’ve asked. And because it’s still just as relevant.

I’ve been wondering if I should bother continuing this blog. It brings in no income. Every post takes anywhere from a few hours to several days to write – even with tools like Google, YouTube, news articles, social media, and not least, AI.

I’ve gotten a lot of positive feedback via messages on Facebook, often from people I haven’t spoken to in years. They’ve told me they like what I’ve shared.

Several friends have also been clear: They’ve said I have to keep writing. That it makes a difference. That I need to keep emptying my head and sharing my thoughts, because it hits home, and it sparks something. That’s given me motivation when I’ve considered giving up.

And it doesn’t stop there: I’ve been stopped in the store, at City Nord, and even at the hospital – by people I haven’t talked to since my teenage years, saying that what I write gives them insight they don’t find anywhere else. That I’ve given them angles they’ve never heard before, and made them think. That means more than they probably realize.

But I’ve also had my fair share of idiocy and snide remarks – and that was kind of expected. I knew some people were going to feel targeted. People can’t handle honesty anymore.

What I didn’t expect was that everything around me would change so quickly. That I wouldn’t be able to keep up. That my health would fail me again. That writing would become so hard.

But still: I like writing. It’s like therapy for me. When I write, I’m fully focused on what I want to communicate – and in those moments, I forget everything else that’s heavy and painful. Then it’s just the text that exists, and everything else gets put on hold. Maybe that’s why I just can’t let go of it.

So here I am. Still writing, and planning to keep sharing my thoughts.

We live in a society where people get offended by everything. To you who already feel attacked: don’t look in the mirror. You’ll just be offended by that too.

I’m tired. Tired of idiotic comments from people who can’t think beyond three seconds. People who hurl themselves at the keyboard and vomit a load of crap before they’ve even finished reading a sentence. People who don’t know the difference between critical thinking and petty bickering. When the arguments dry up, the personal attacks and sarcasm come pouring in.

I get that people might be provoked when I write something that completely contradicts their worldview. It might cause them to boil over, and that’s fine – most of us boil over from time to time. In fact, it turns out many of the people who argue the most with me in public are the same ones who send a private message asking how Laila and I are doing. That says something. Because even if we argue, we’re still human beings, and we care about each other. I haven’t received a single negative message in private. The ones who’ve been critical or negative have kept it in the comment sections – and that’s fine.

The comments I’m referring to aren’t on the blog itself, but in the Facebook comment sections where I’ve shared the posts. That’s where the discussions happen – that’s where both the support and the criticism show up. The blog’s comment section is quiet, but the shares take on a life of their own.

Most of the comments are left alone. But a few I’ve deleted – the ones that have gone way over the line. When people sink so low that they attack Laila and me for being sick, or for not being millionaires who can just shell out huge amounts for good cancer treatment without blinking, that’s just pathetic. Those comments don’t belong, and then I might choose to delete them.

That grown adults resort to that kind of personal attack really says all that needs to be said.

I don’t respond to that crap anymore. I’ve chosen to block a few people – not because I’m thin-skinned. But because I’m done giving space to other people’s garbage in my space.

And in the middle of all this – in the middle of wondering whether it’s worth using more energy on the blog – I got curious and checked how many people have actually read what I’ve posted. I haven’t done much to promote it. I’ve just written a few posts and shared them on Facebook and X (formerly Twitter).

But it turns out my posts have been opened and read nearly 10,000 times. That’s not 10,000 unique people, but 10,000 times people have clicked in and read. That surprised me. And even more: Several of you have asked for more. That means something. That makes it worth it.

So I’m continuing.

I write for you who dare to challenge what you’re served. For you who don’t accept everything just because it’s said by a journalist with a microphone and an opinion. I write for you who know the world isn’t black and white, and that truth requires more than headlines and echo chambers.

I write straight from the gut. I think out loud in my texts. Sometimes I hit the mark, other times I’m completely off – and that’s okay. I don’t write so a boss or my ideological allies will like me. Because it’s healthy to break out of the echo chambers and look at things from more angles. I write because I have something to say and I enjoy writing.

I write for you who still use your head – and don’t let yourself be ruled by feelings and herd mentality.

It’ll still be a mix. Some personal stuff. Some politics. Some philosophy. Some anger. And a good dose of defiant honesty. And yeah – I’ll make some confessions along the way. Here’s one: I was wrong about Trump and Ukraine. He didn’t manage to bring peace as quickly as I thought. More on that later.

Laila and I have been through a lot. From the most powerful earthquake in Thailand’s modern history, to repeated hospital visits. Now we’re fighting a new battle: to be allowed to get married. It should’ve been simple. It wasn’t. But I don’t think even an earthquake will stop us.

We carry on. With love. With fight in our hearts. With words as our weapon.