Hi! Just a little update from me, seasoned with some photography I’ve done over the last few months.

A guy at a photowalk once told me that every time he starts a new job, he buys himself a new camera—a rather expensive one, as a gift to himself for fighting through interviews to land a better position. Well, I got a new job, set aside some money from my first paychecks, and bought—well, not a camera, but a new lens. It set me back more than I originally paid for my camera. And honestly, it’s not even a new focal length, nor does it have any fancy perks. It’s just an expensive add-on that reignited my motivation to do more photography. So yeah, I’d say it was worth it.

Getting a new job didn’t just lead me to make irresponsible financial decisions—it also helped me enjoy life again. That might sound dramatic, but the last company I worked for sucked the joy out of me like juice from a Capri-Sun pouch. What was left was an empty, squeezed-out version of myself, so stressed that I’d forgotten what joy even felt like. I didn’t really notice how much of my former self had disappeared until I took a medical leave a few days after resigning. I was completely consumed by anger, frustration, and a lack of meaning in my daily work. Fast-forward six months, and here I am: in my new position, finally able to breathe again. It reinflated my emotional air mattress back to normal size, and now I can float on the waters of daily life without drowning.

Last year, I worked on my ability to let go, especially the constant need to have a plan for the next hour, the next day, or even the next week. When I got a sick note for the next four weeks shortly after resigning (but while still employed), I struggled right from the first day. My doctor told me to spend the time doing things I enjoy and that make me feel good. But I was completely helpless—I couldn’t figure out what to do or where to start. I felt this urge to be useful and not “waste” the time, so I started doing unnecessary household chores. I pushed myself so hard to do all the things at once that I ended up completely exhausted. I was constantly overthinking what the best, most time-efficient next step should be, and it drove me crazy. That’s when I realized I’d forgotten how to be content doing nothing. My guess is that the relentless, unrealistic expectations from work had conditioned me to the point where I couldn’t imagine daily life without chasing after unattainable goals.

After recovering from my breakdown—and with Linn’s help—I tried a new approach: I sat down and wrote a list of things I actually wanted to do now that I had the time. Then, I figured out how to fit those activities into the coming weeks. And just like that, I had a plan—a way to use my time meaningfully without constantly worrying about it. It was late August, and my summer could finally begin.

Focusing only on enjoyable things really helped me: visiting museums, going to the cinema, spending time by the sea, renting a kayak and spending a whole day on the water, and getting outside as much as possible. Photography, surprisingly, played a minor role—it tends to come with its own set of expectations that I project onto myself. I also followed my physician’s recommendation and attended a weekly autogenic training course, where I learned a lot about self-control and how mindset influences resilience.

As I write these words, I’m reminded again of how much 2025 changed me and how I grew through all the obstacles that year threw my way.

With all that happening, the last third of the year flew by at lightspeed. Before I knew it, Linn and I were celebrating Christmas with her parents. I won’t go into details, but I was really looking forward to those in-between days—the stretch between the holidays and New Year’s. There’s something special about that time: it’s detached from all expectations. To me, those days feel like bonus time, gifted so unexpectedly that no one plans anything for them. You just have to exist—that’s the only demand. No work, no duties, no overdue family visits, no pressure to explore new places: all your usual quests are paused. So there’s not much to report; I just enjoyed a few demand-free days.

Another tradition I’ve kept for myself is taking a long solo hike at the end of each year to spend a few hours alone with my thoughts. Sometimes, I’ve had to reschedule it to the first days of the new year due to bad weather, health issues, or both. That’s what happened this year, too. I took the train for an hour to the other side of Berlin in the first week of January. The day was marked by an extraordinary amount of snowfall, turning my hike into a winter expedition. And I loved every second of it: leaving the first tracks in fresh snow, following the trails of birds and foxes, feeling the weight of snow piling up on my head, and hearing the unique crunch and resistance of snow compressing under my boots. I connect with nature best under demanding conditions like these, which made this one of my favorite New Year’s hikes so far.

So, that’s it—2025 is in the books. Thanks for reading and being part of another year of this little corner of the internet. Even though this project is mostly for myself, I love knowing that others might read what I write.

2026, let’s go.