The Video and Blog Series in 6 Languages
Dreamy Tiny House Diary — Short Version
Hello everyone,
this is the first video of the new series “Dream Your Life and Live Your Dream,” and I truly hope you enjoy it.
In each video, you’ll see one full week. I’ve focused on what really matters and talk you through what happened, which thoughts accompanied me, and which feelings were present.
The whole series is available in six languages.
Enjoy watching.
On January 8, I felt torn between staying outside and going home. Still, I consciously took the day into my own hands and chose a structure that felt good to me. Slowly waking up at the café, the learning partnership there, and my first day of cleaning work showed me how important realistic goals and a gentle start truly are.
I realized that it suits me better to spread work over several days instead of cramming everything into one. Taking care of my health is not a step backward, but a necessity. Despite the physical effort, the day gave me energy: pride in what I had accomplished, many steps outdoors, and focused work on my own projects afterward.
In the end, what remained was the feeling that even an ordinary day can be full of small successes—and that time is especially precious because it passes so quickly.
January 9 was a day when many things turned out differently than planned and emotionally challenged me more than expected. The gap between how I see myself and the feedback from others unsettled me, especially in moments when I already felt vulnerable. Learning in public didn’t feel empowering that day, but rather exposing, and I realized how strongly external circumstances can affect my inner stability.
The walk became a turning point. First frustration and withdrawal, then unexpectedly sunshine, warmth, and the feeling of being comforted. For a moment, everything felt lighter, and I could meet myself with more kindness again. Still, the rest of the day clearly showed me my limits: physical exhaustion, a lack of recovery, and the realization that sheer willpower and discipline are not enough to remain capable in the long run.
Even though I fell behind my own plans and didn’t achieve everything I wanted, I set important things in motion. I questioned structures, searched for solutions, and changed something that will save me work in the future. In the end, there was no euphoria, but a quiet, important insight: I did something. I am allowed to make mistakes. I am allowed to go slower. And I am enough as I am.
January 10 was a day of honest self-encounter. I became painfully aware that a loving, gentle attitude toward myself is not something that simply exists, but something I must actively cultivate again and again. The familiar morning enjoyment was missing, replaced by inner tension triggered by criticism, pressure, and the feeling of having to meet expectations.
As the day went on, it became clear how strongly external demands and inner expectations collide. The desire for security and stability stands in tension with the need to remain authentic and not lose myself. Setting boundaries, kindly and clearly expressing what I need, requires courage—especially when the fear of rejection is present.
The walk brought the decisive realization: my exhaustion has deeper causes. It’s not just one conversation, but the sum of responsibility, performance pressure, relationship issues, and high expectations of myself. At the end of the day, the insight remained that slow arrivals, breakfast, and movement are not luxuries, but necessary anchors that help me stay with myself and say a genuine yes to everyday life again.
January 11 was a day full of depth and quiet joy. Instead of justifying myself or listing events, conscious experience took center stage. I was especially touched by the appreciation shown by Conny and Laurin and by the respect for my wish for a quiet morning—a moment that felt like an unexpected gift.
The walk became the heart of the day. Hours of walking, writing, refining words, and dancing again and again made time and everyday concerns fade into the background. Physically, I felt light, flexible, and alive, almost rejuvenated. This Sunday walk was not just movement, but a space where I was fully with myself.
Work in the afternoon also felt harmonious. I created a lot without pressure or exhaustion, more like a creative process with meaning and calm. The day ended gently, leaving the feeling that I had not been driven by tasks, but carried by moments.
January 12 was shaped entirely by lightness and movement—dancing in the rain. From the morning on, music was present, like an inner orchestra accompanying the day. Despite many errands and duties, everything came together surprisingly smoothly: the learning partnership, the long-postponed appointment at the municipal office, shopping, and the work with Conny and Laurin.
The walk once again became the highlight of the day. More steps, more endurance, and the joy of being outside in any weather gave me a strong sense of vitality. When the rain started, it didn’t become an obstacle, but a game—continuing on, dancing, letting go. This attitude carried through the entire day and even into cooking and working.
In the evening, the other side also appeared: physical fatigue, full days, and the wish to adjust my expectations of the minimum standard to something more realistic. Still, a feeling of contentment remained. Even though time and energy are limited, I did what matters to me. And in the end, I felt that movement, music, and joy can carry you—even when your legs are tired.
January 13 felt like liberation and tangible relief. Already in the morning, there was a hint of spring in the air: less snow, birdsong, and the sense that something heavy was slowly lifting. Despite a late night, the day began calmly at the café, supported by gratitude for the side job, which not only brings financial relief but also strength and quality of life.
Even when plans changed and work fell away, there was no pressure—only space. The early walk became a deep turning point: lighter steps, dancing, music, and conscious awareness of my body led to inner and outer relief. The weight loss, the movement, and the new body awareness felt like chains being released—not only physically, but emotionally.
As the day went on, it became clear that this liberation goes far beyond the moment. Settling down, stability, and new routines have enabled healing that runs deeper than expected. Despite limited time, I continued working on my projects without overwhelming myself and ended the day consciously and calmly. What remained was warmth, inner peace, and the certainty that lightness is possible again.
January 14 was a calm, grounded day marked by small shifts and quiet satisfaction. The morning began as usual at the café, but plans changed once again: instead of being on standby, cleaning work was needed, and the visit to the family doctor’s office was unsuccessful. This unpredictability shaped the rhythm of the day without throwing it off balance.
Between work and walking, human encounters arose that created space for compassion and encouragement. The cleaning work itself gave me a clear sense of usefulness and progress, while the mindful walk helped me find inner calm. The slow disappearance of ice and snow was consciously observed, accompanied by gratitude for the changing season.
The evening stood for warmth and closure. A simple, enjoyable meal, the familiar sunset, and focused work on the MacBook came together to form a rounded end to the day. After the weekly video and the live session, the day was allowed to end quietly—with relaxation, letting go, and the feeling of having done exactly enough.
Weekly Summary
This week from January 8 to 14 was shaped by movement, inner clarification, and a quiet yet tangible transformation. Many days initially felt heavy or unplanned, but again and again it became clear that growth was hidden precisely there. Walks, music, dancing, and consciously listening to my body became supporting elements that helped release pressure and bring me back to myself.
Central was the realization that self-care is not a luxury, but a prerequisite. Slow mornings, clear boundaries, realistic goals, and breaks proved necessary to avoid burnout. At the same time, there were touching moments of appreciation, lightness, and liberation—both physically and emotionally. Old constraints loosened, new routines began to take hold, and a sense of stability grew.
Conclusion
I didn’t become faster, but more honest. I accomplished less than planned, but understood more. This week showed that healing, creativity, and performance can only coexist when I allow myself to be human—with limits, needs, and joy in small things.
Questions That Remain
What do I truly need to feel safe and supported?
Where can I lower my expectations without losing myself?
How can I shape my days so that body and soul move together?
Which routines support me, and which restrict me?
Outlook
The coming time may continue to be shaped by balance. Less forcing, more alignment. Walking, dancing, working, learning—but at a pace that strengthens me. If I continue this path mindfully, trust emerges: in my body, in my decisions, and in the life I allow myself to dream and live step by step.
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