Week 11

One of the biggest milestones this week was finishing Ema's blog and publishing the first article. I want to make that a weekly habit. In a way, it will be similar to this—writing honestly about my thoughts, my life, and the things that matter to me—but Dear Ema will live publicly online, while what I write for you will stay private, hosted only on my own server, in this little corner that belongs just to us.

Finishing that blog meant more to me than just completing another project. It felt like I finally found its direction. I hope that one day, when Ema is older and she reads those words, she won't just find stories or ideas that interest her. I hope she will find us there—how her father thought, how we lived, how our family was. Because I don't want to write only about myself and her. I want to write about you too, about us, about what this family felt like while it was still becoming itself.

The other major thing was the apartment. What surprised me most was not the work itself, but the way I felt while doing it. For the first time in my life, I was able to do hard, unrewarding, inconvenient work—work I didn't especially enjoy—and simply do it without resentment. It felt almost as ordinary as taking out the trash.

Usually, if I lose a Sunday like that, part of me rebels. I want to rush back home, to return to my books, my thoughts, my routine, to what I think is the "best use" of my time. But this time I didn't feel that desperation. I just accepted what was in front of me and tried to do it well. Calmly. Precisely. Without complaint.

I think this connects to something I was trying to explain to you a few days ago—that I don't believe life has some grand fixed purpose, but that happiness comes from a different kind of clarity. Finding something you truly enjoy, and then finding someone to share it with. A life where we are less ruled by fear, less trapped by the opinions of others, less seduced by the idea that happiness is always one possession or one achievement away. A life where we meet things directly, the way I tried to meet that apartment work. Not because everything is pleasant, but because we are fully there for what is ours to do.

Bogdan told you more than once how amazed he is by how blissful you can seem. What I want for us is a family life grounded in that spirit: present, calm, grateful, unafraid. Hard sometimes, easy sometimes, funny, sad, exhausting, beautiful—but together, and not at war with reality.

Work still tires me. Some days are so full that I cannot do my routine the way I want. But strangely, now that I have less time, I see more clearly what matters. Even with Ema—now, when I am with her, I feel much more strongly that I should really be with her, giving her my energy. That is the paradox: before, when I had more time, I think I often gave her less of myself. At the same time, I fear she will see how tired I am. I do not want her to carry that. I want to keep going, keep building, keep holding this family together, because that is what feels right to me.

Something in me has changed. I told Radu it feels as if I have stepped onto another level of awareness. For a long time, I was angry at the philosophers. I had trusted them, hoping they would solve something for me. And in the end, so many of them seemed to arrive at the same answer: that we must create our own purpose. That offended me. It felt like self-deception. I remember thinking, "So this is it? I have to lie to myself just to be able to live?"

But instead of making me more desperate, that realization made me calmer. If there is no fixed purpose, then life is not a failed search. It is an open field. And that has made me softer inside. I see it in ordinary things—how I eat now, how I deal with work, how I handled the apartment. Compared to two months ago, I can sit with the truth more quietly. I can let the experience sink in instead of fighting it. Not perfectly, but much better.

From here, I go into the next week.

— Hubby