You never know what someone else is going through

November 20, 2024

Two weeks ago, I had to undergo surgery, and this has been one of the (among others) reasons why I’ve been more reserved lately—taking my time to respond to emails and messages and staying very low-key on my social media channels.

The need to stay in my cocoon and recover has been my top priority.

For the past 10 days, I stayed home, giving my body the space it needed to regenerate and process the past months. Yesterday, I ventured outside for the first time.

My pace is still very slow; I’m still reluctant and careful with my movements, constantly aware of everything happening around me, with a fear of someone bumping into me or a misstep causing a fall. It feels almost like being a wounded animal—cautious, limping, and reluctant to let anyone come too near.

From the outside, nothing suggests my current situation. Those who don’t know would never guess my core is still sensitive and stitched up.

In situations like this, life gives one the opportunity to reflect—on what was, what is, and what could become. It forces you to stop, something I haven’t done since I decided to return to Zürich precisely one year ago (which was also when I learned about my epigastric hernia). It almost feels like the end of one cycle and the start of another—a chance to begin again.

As with any new beginning, we must take baby steps. For me, this has been literal. Patience has been key, and I’ve been using it to my advantage—to observe, reflect, and digest information.

As I was walking my baby steps outside, I paid careful attention to how I sat down in the tram, held on tightly to avoid any abrupt jolts, or walked slightly faster (but not running, as sports are only allowed starting week 3) with the hope of reaching the tram on time—but also accepting that I might miss it, time seems to slow down. You become more attuned to noises, movements, and smells. It’s almost as if your senses sharpen—if you allow them to.

What struck me during this outing was the realization that we can never truly know what someone else is going through. It’s easy to get annoyed when someone is slower than you expect, makes an unexpected turn, or takes too long to decide in front of a shelf while you’re ready to grab and go. But next time frustration creeps in, perhaps pause and consider: they might be navigating challenges invisible to you.

I feel like we’re constantly caught in rushed routines—at least I was throughout the past year—where speed, multitasking, and busyness seem to be accepted, promoted, or even celebrated. This “forced retreat” has taught me otherwise. I haven’t paused enough to observe. I’ve judged others too quickly, not considering that they might be going through something I could never comprehend. I haven’t taken enough time to simply do nothing—to just be, to breathe. I’ve said too many yeses to others instead of listening to the yeses I needed for myself.

Perhaps you know what I mean; perhaps you don’t. And if you don’t, I celebrate and honour you for it.

I’m unsure if these words will resonate with you, but I leave them here as #foodforthought.

What I know for myself is that as I start feeling better and my body begins returning to its natural rhythm, I’ll revisit this text to remind myself of these lessons and integrate them more fully into my daily life.

As I continue healing and reflecting, I’m grateful for the chance to slow down and re-centre. May we all find moments to pause, observe, and appreciate life’s small victories—embracing the journey one step at a time and extending grace to others whose realities we may never fully understand.

Happy mid-week, and until next time

Maja

*below is a short video I love that came to my mind while sharing the above insights with a friend: