Honestly, like everyone always says, I never planned it. It started quite ordinarily. I was taking notes from therapy, experiences, and various difficult periods to better sort things out in my head. Over time, I accumulated so much that I felt it might be useful for someone else too. But it was still just a feeling, not a plan. And then, when I talked about these things with friends, I often heard: "This is pretty strong stuff" and I would defend it. Saying that these intense things won't disappear, and it's better when I work with them. And so, gradually, a book started to take shape and later a broader project. It's not some grand strategy, more an effort to put together something that might be somewhat supportive for people who also sometimes feel confused.
How would you describe this approach to someone who has never heard of it?**
I see it as: if there is no universal meaning of life, that's actually good news, because it gives us the freedom to create that meaning ourselves. I'm not saying it's the only right perspective; it's just how I view the world. Nihilism is often associated with hopelessness, but I see it more as room to breathe. We don't have to "catch up" to anything or fulfill expectations that no one has clearly defined. We can choose our own path and be more at peace with it. And the fact that it's not set in stone is, paradoxically, quite reassuring for me.
I would say I try not to impose anything. Many books today offer guides on how to be better, more productive, happier. I don't feel like someone who can give instructions; I struggle with my own problems and often don't know how to solve them. So I share what I've tried and how it affected me. Some people might take something from it, others might find it doesn't apply to them. The book is more an invitation to think rather than a set of advice.
It was quite chaotic. Writing began with me jotting down thoughts that came to me on my way from the theater or after meeting friends. Gradually, I started sorting these notes and looking for a thread between them. Only when I saw a few recurring themes, like meaning, self-acceptance, hardships, and hope, did I start giving it structure. It's still a very open process. I'm still rewriting a lot of the text, deleting some things, adding others.
What is its goal and what role do readers play in it?**
I would like it to be not just a book but also a space where people can meet and talk about things that aren't usually discussed. We often think we're alone in our problems, yet they're much more common than we realize. When shared, some of the burden is lifted. So readers are actually co-creators for me. I'm already collecting feedback from them, and we've already arranged the first offline meeting where we'll discuss it face to face.
Reactions were quite varied. Some told me it was too raw and difficult to read, others said it calmed them because they realized others deal with similar issues. I take it that if it evokes something in someone, then it probably has meaning. I'm not concerned about it appealing to everyone, but rather that it's authentic. One thing is feedback from readers, but I need to be sure the book is safe and won't make anyone feel worse in the long term. That's why I also decided to collaborate with psychologists.
What form does this collaboration take?**
I have a few people from the field who help me ensure the texts aren't misleading or dangerous. They're mostly therapists and so far one psychologist. I don't want anyone to get the impression that the book is a substitute for therapy. I see it more as a complement. Like something that can open up a topic, and then you can discuss it further with a therapist. Some therapists offered to recommend the book to clients later, which really pleased me. I'm also in the process of arranging testing. It will be a smaller sample than I would like, but who knows what might happen before publication. I've learned that there isn't much point in planning; it's harder to organize than I originally thought.
The hardest part is probably the honesty. When the topic leads me to my bulimia or the period when I was dependent on alcohol, it's outside my comfort zone. And when someone then writes to me that they identified with it and that it's nice someone said it, the whole thing seems more meaningful to me. It's like absolution, a kind of mental indulgence.
If they take away just that they're not alone, that it's normal to have difficulties, and that they don't have to be perfect, that's enough for me. I don't want the book to come across as dogma. It's more an invitation to reflection: "Maybe you have it differently, but that's okay."
I have a few ideas, but I don't want to overdo it. I like the idea that people will come across a piece of the book unexpectedly, perhaps in a café, at a bus stop, or in the subway. Not as advertising, but as a small prompt. I want the spread to be more organic, for people to share it because it gave them something, not because it's being pushed. They should be like lost notes from their honest friend. Those strong statements themselves work quite well, and the first reaction from my experience tends to be quite defensive.