I often thought about where to start. Another blog? Is it really necessary? To be honest, at the beginning my thought was purely strategic: "Write a few articles, get ranked, make the whole thing SEO-friendly." But even on the first attempt it felt wrong. Empty. Soulless. As if I was writing something that nobody really needed - least of all myself.

So I asked myself: What is this really about? What do I want to share here that doesn't just touch the surface but goes deeper? Not about reach. Not about likes. My heart beats for something else: connection. Those real, unfiltered moments in which we suddenly feel that we are not alone.

Maybe you're here because something spoke to you. An image, a sentence, a detail that stuck. But I would like to invite you to go deeper. To look behind the shiny surface, into the stories that are often not told. To where life is not perfect, but real. This blog will not be a collection of flawless stories, not a glossy magazine. It will be imperfect, raw, and perhaps sometimes chaotic. But that's exactly where - in the imperfection - the magic lies for me. The connection.

Because who hasn't been there? You're doing something or you're standing in a room full of people, everyone is talking, everyone is laughing - and you feel invisible. Nobody sees you, not really. Or you suddenly realize: "What am I actually doing here? Why am I in this situation again?" Or maybe you're standing in front of the mirror and asking yourself: "Is that really me? Is that all?" That quiet voice that you ignore because it's easier to carry on. But honestly: how long are you going to keep ignoring it?

I felt this emptiness. For years I thought it could be filled from the outside - by people, success, recognition. I tried hard, worked, searched. But the harder I tried, the less I found. It was as if my life was a leaky bucket from which everything slipped away, no matter how hard I tried to fill it.

And then it became quiet.

Sometimes life brings us to a point where we can no longer run away. For me, that was the moment I started to really look inside myself. I met a version of myself that didn't laugh to be loved. One that was simple . And that realized that connection doesn't start on the outside, but within ourselves. That may sound poetic, but let's be honest: the search for connection is often uncomfortable. It forces us to take off our masks and question ourselves. Who am I really? What am I holding back? This is not easy fare - more a mixture of mindfulness and black humor. Imagine meditating while life whispers in your ear: "You are not enlightened, you are hungry." Yes, that's pretty much how it feels sometimes.

But despite all of this, there is something beautiful in it. Connection happens when we stop trying to be perfect. When we allow ourselves to be real. When we allow someone to see us for who we really are. But connection isn't always pretty or easy. It also happens when I feel like an outsider in a group and I stay anyway because I don't want to run away anymore. When I look at someone and see the pain behind their words while simultaneously wrestling with my own.

I feel a connection when I set a boundary with someone and then lie in bed crying because it hurts - but at the same time I feel: "I respected myself."

I feel a connection when I have a question that is bothering me and suddenly - whether through a conversation, a book, or a random sentence - I find the answer to that very question without actively looking for it.

I feel a connection when we don't just meet during a retreat, but really see each other . When you show me what lives inside you - including the uncomfortable, the contradictory, the painful. And I can hold it without solving it for you, but simply being there.

I feel a connection when I touch the earth, as if it were penetrating me, not just externally, but in every cell. It is as if it is reading my energy, scanning my thoughts and silently giving back what I need at that moment.

It's both: the chaos and the silence. The showing of oneself and the retreating. Connection happens in the smallest, unexpected moments - the beautiful and the uncomfortable, the easy and the painful. And it's precisely where I feel everything that I would otherwise prefer to suppress that I am closest to myself. Connection is a gift that we can give each other. It happens when we really listen. When we dare to show our vulnerability. And yes, sometimes it is painful. It challenges us to tear down our own walls. But it is precisely where it becomes uncomfortable that something real begins.

What does connection mean to you?

Is it a moment of silence in all the chaos? A look that reminds you that you are seen? Or a quiet whisper that says, "You are enough."

This blog is more like a journal - not a collection of ready-made answers, but an invitation. An invitation to ask questions together, explore thoughts and open up spaces. Spaces in which we can perhaps, quite unexpectedly, find a piece of real connection.

Because in the end, connection is not something we have to learn. It is something we have to remember.

With an open heart,

Gianna