Forgot to share my November recap.
November felt like the first chapter of a new book. I moved into a newly arranged home that feels almost too sweet — I fully furnished it, buying everything I had skipped before, knowing I wouldn’t stay long in the old place anyway. I got the essentials — a microwave, a Dyson vacuum, things I’d been meaning to buy for a long time — plus other items that make everyday life easier and more comfortable during those long work hours: a walking pad, a height‑adjustable desk, a standing desk, and some geek stuff for content creation.
The best part: after a whole year of missing it so much, I finally bought an infrared sauna for home on Black Friday. Now I’m back to indulging in my favorite ritual — baking in the heat, then collapsing into the bathtub, letting the warmth soak into my bones. There is something so deeply grounding about having a safe, private place that’s truly my own.
Cyber Monday ended with me ordering an Oura ring also. I thought it would help me sleep — but instead it revealed something far scarier. The ring tracks sleep better than anything I’ve used before, and it shows that I’ve been averaging 3 hours and 40 minutes of sleep a night. Even with the catch‑up slumber on weekends, I still don’t hit five hours. It’s shocking. I’m alive through sheer adrenaline and denial — I honestly don’t know how. I always said I had no debt, but thanks to Oura it turns out I do — and it’s not even small. It’s called sleep debt, and it’s permanently set to HIGH with bright red exclamation marks flashing. Finally, I’ve found something I’m truly excelling at: the total number of sleep hours I haven’t had. It’s a growth metric—and it keeps rising day by day. I keep telling myself I’ll “work on it,” but I keep running out of ideas. I should have known, 2025 + rings + me = not exactly a brilliant combination.
On another note: I allowed myself to dip a toe back into dating — only to find that even after a two‑month warm‑up, physical touch still triggers me. It brought flashbacks. I realized I’m not ready. I opted out again. Promising… :-S
I’m ready to call 2025 a year; I already have enough. Happy New Year, Everyone.
I kept abandoning all my socials for Substack. I even had my very first live— I was a guest on my favourite English teacher’s After School video podcast, talking about my research, my Somatic Writing method, foresight, and where I’m headed. I wrote my first English language e-book, Soulbird — about healing from trauma and loss, about the tiny American kestrel that kept visiting me and whom I miss so much. The responses to the book brought me to tears. I was deeply touched.
I made a small Christmas tree out of books, and I bought a Rusty-inspired journal to fill with new, hopefully better memories next year.
I arranged a visit: I bought plane tickets and wrote my father a list of things I want him to bring from Hungary. He wants me to chill.:-D
I can’t wait for him to arrive. It’s the first time he’s flying alone, and he’s nervous because he doesn’t speak the language. Also, since there’s no direct flight from Budapest, that adds to his stress, but even all that worry doesn’t keep him from spending NYE with me and my pup. He will stay for 5 days, including 2 days of travel, and will be with us for only 3 days.
I want this to be a fantastic experience for him with all the Christmas decorations in the city, but I also have to consider that he can’t walk much. Additionally, for NYE, he said he ‘wants to do something fun but doesn’t like the crowd.” Well, that’s a challenge. I will definitely show him Winter Village in Bryant Park, and since he’s obsessed with model trains, we’ll also check out the shop at Grand Central. Aside from trains, he likes eating fat, dogs, listening to jazz, and sleeping, so good luck to me.
This month also meant grappling again with a re‑emerging health issue — still a consequence of past violence. It was hellish: countless doctor visits, pain, and lots of money spent. I hate that the trauma still casts a shadow over my life — emotionally and physically, and that the healing is so painfully slow.
But there were bright threads too: I met some new friends, and we went to a flamenco show. Meanwhile, the first friendships I formed here are slowly deepening into genuine love, and I’m beyond grateful for that.
I attended the book launch for Vasant Dhar’s Thinking with Machines.
I saw A Christmas Carol and finally saw the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree — something I longed for last year but didn’t manage to do. I walked down 5th Avenue under its Christmas lights.
I sat in the cheesiest, most over‑the‑top holiday bars.
I spent a lot of time on the phone, because during the holidays, I miss my old friends and my family more than anything — and I’m trying to wrap my head around the fact that this year it looks like I’ll spend them completely alone. That’s going to be a deep journey into self‑knowledge for me. I generally love solitude, but I’ve never been fully alone through the holidays. I’ve lived through airport layovers, several days on the road, spending Christmas Eve in the car, but a real solo Christmas, never. My survival plan is denial: this Christmas begins when my father arrives on the 28th.
I also went to the Brooklyn Museum to see the Monet exhibition. It was packed — and I was there with someone, talking the whole time, so I just couldn’t settle into it. I practically rushed through the entire thing.
Has anyone else ever had that moment when you simply can’t connect to the art because your mind is somewhere else?
Sitting here now, alone in my apartment, looking back… it really was beautiful. I just wish I had been able to slow down enough to let it in.
I went full‑on subscription- Marie Kondo: I deleted all unnecessary memberships and apps — I had hundreds, many unopened. They weren’t expensive, but I still felt the relief of the cleanse.
I started working on my third “first‑author” academic article — fought hard to make sure it would be on the exact topic I wanted. It took months of research to convince my mentor to overcome his hesitation. When he told me it sounded too risky, I almost laughed. Really? Risky? It’s not my thing at all.
My other new book, published at home, also finally came out this month. It already feels like a big success, and I’m genuinely happy; it makes me feel more connected to my home country. I also set a date for a dear friend to visit in January.
I discovered my new neighborhood — a new hairdresser, a new veterinarian, new restaurants, and all that this area has to offer. Miss my favourite hummus place, but I found a new favourite.
I got past Thanksgiving and had the most delicious vegan holiday meal I can imagine.
My dog found a new favorite chew toy — he’s obsessed with it for half an hour straight, which is its own kind of joy.
I kept embarrassing him on our night walks; he clearly judged me, thinking I looked like a homeless person, and hoped not to run into any other dogs. Can’t blame him.
My new place is decorated with minimalist intention — but every piece that made the cut has Aussies on it. Each time I catch sight of one of them, I can’t help but smile.
We tried eating tangerines for the first time after Ellise passed away. She used to tremble with delight when she got one bite after another; she loved it so much. The smell immediately transported me back — back to that time, to those memories, and suddenly, the grief overwhelmed me again. The realization that she will never again jump a meter high for a piece of tangerine, she’ll never eat even one more bite…In the end, the whole bag of tangerines went bad. If I can’t share it with her, then I don’t want it either.
But my heart is not the only one that is broken: I realized that dogs grieve, too. Eliott never lies on blankets, and he never touches this teddy bear; these were Ellise’s.
But when he sinks onto it now, there’s something in his eyes that shatters me, a remembering that doesn’t need words, grief that animals aren’t supposed to feel, yet somehow he carries it more honestly than most humans ever could.
I watch him hover between worlds — the one where she’s gone, and the one where she’s still right there beside him. And every time, my heart breaks a little more, as if grief is trying to take me with him to wherever he goes when he misses his baby sister. 💔
Got a new tattoo, vow inked into skin. Now, our trio — Eliott, Ellise, and me — is bound together, forever. No matter what roads we take, no matter who stays or goes, we are etched into time. Even death can’t undo what love has already sealed.
If I had to sum it up: My new life feels more normal, safer, happier, a bit more grounded. I’m slowly getting used to it; it’s the 4th apartment I’ve lived in in just a year, so I try to be patient with myself and my dog, too. I’m finally creating a space where safety, ease, and hopefully soon, joy can settle.
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