I Had Never
Truly Lived
Today, I wasn’t planning to write a blog post.
But I’m noticing more and more that I no longer want to live only according to plans. I want to learn to listen to what is truly alive and active in the present moment.
Is it easy?
No.
Is it comfortable?
Sometimes. Sometimes not.
Today, this text comes through vulnerability.
Sadness.
Longing.
And interestingly, this longing is not only connected to people or situations from the past.
Rather it is connected to the feelings that have remained alive inside my body.
Because people can leave.
Moments can pass.
But the body remembers.
Today I’m listening to Soft Positive Vibes’ song “This is my Life” and
I’m reminded of something very simple —
this moment here — where I am now, writing these words —
is the only reality that truly exists.
It may sound cliché.
And yet, the more I observe my life, the more I understand
that there is a deeper truth within it.
My life is not created only through “big” events.
It is created through repeated choices.
Thoughts.
Patterns.
And over time, those patterns begin weaving
mida ma nimetan “minu eluks”.
What moved me to write today
was one vulnerable encounter.
A conversation with a woman trying to understand
why she has not been able to leave a relationship that has lasted for decades.
Three children.
A shared life.
Safety.
And at the same time, a relationship that had become completely empty sexually.
Listening to her, I noticed something important once again.
Often, the most important thing is not
how dramatic another person’s story is.
What matters more is what it touches within me.
What it reminds me of.
What it reveals.
And the most important question is always:
what do I do with that realization?
Because insight without change remains only a thought.
I learned this through pain.
Through experience.
Through how easy it has been for me to abandon myself and call it
“patience,”
“being reasonable” or
“stability.”
But underneath it, there was often just fear.
Fear of choosing something new.
Fear of stepping into the unknown.
Fear of being truly seen.
That moment still
lives in my body memory
as if it happened yesterday
My body remembers very clearly a moment from 2022.
A moment when I consciously chose to do something
I had avoided my entire life.
I remember the trembling in my body.
I remember the confusion.
I remember the fear.
And at the same time, I knew with absolute clarity:
“…if I want my life to change, I have to be the one
who chooses differently…”
I was tired of living a life that looked fine on the outside while feeling lifeless within.
And yet, choosing aliveness at that moment felt
almost unbearably terrifying.
That moment felt endless.
Even though in reality it probably lasted only a few minutes.
I was physically, emotionally, and spiritually completely naked.
And then, for the first time in my life, I said out loud:
“I have never experienced an orgasm with a man.”
At that point, I was 45 years old.
And the mother of a young daughter.
What followed after that moment
changed the course of my life.
This is not an exaggeration.
And it was not about what the other person “did.”
It was about what was present in that space.
Presence.
Non-force.
Permission.
Not fixing.
Not pushing.
Not teaching.
Just presence.
And within that wordless presence was something
my body had never experienced before.
For the first time, I felt that I was not wrong.
That my awkwardness was not wrong.
My fear was not wrong.
My sexuality was not wrong.
And maybe it was there that something I now call "healing", truly began to emerge within me.
Today, I believe more and more
that people do not always need more information.
More analysis.
More words.
We need real experiences in spaces
where our nervous system can experience safety,
et me oleme turvalised ka siis,
kui me oleme haavatavad.
Spaces where we do not need to constantly protect ourselves.
Ruumi, kus me ei tunne, et peame olema
“õigemad”,
“more correct” or
“more healed.”
Just human beings.
Present.
And this is where intimacy truly begins.
Not in how we touch another person.
But in whether we dare to remain present within ourselves.
8 weeks of breathing together — closer to yourself — closer to your partner.
English 
Estonian