Love for animals is a special feeling that cannot be faked.

This blog is about how I stopped living "the way I should" and started living "the way I want." It's about how I'm learning to trust my feelings, follow my dreams, and not be afraid to be authentic. 💖

Can it be justified?

Should I forgive cheating?

We're not talking about buying mushrooms at the store, but about a real "silent hunt." It's about getting up early in the morning, grabbing a basket, and heading into the forest. The goal is to find something cleverly hidden: boletus mushrooms under fallen leaves, saffron milk caps near mossy stumps, birch boletes at the edge of a forest.

You know, sometimes life throws up such strange moments that you start to wonder if it's just a coincidence or if someone up there is guiding us along a subtle, invisible path? 😌

It seems that today, love has become something... unreal. Not like it used to be. People no longer wait for "the one"; they look for someone convenient. Someone closer, more successful, simpler. You hear more and more often: "The main thing is stability, and love will come later." But does it? 🤔

I have a recipe that has stood the test of time and... love 😄Want a secret?😉

I'M SO EXCITEDI'M SO EXCITED! I'VE BEEN REALLY WAITING FOR THIS BIRTHDAY💘💘💘 I'M 30! I FEEL SO WONDERFUL🎁🎁🎁

🎁🎁🎁FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MY LIFE💖I FEEL LIKE A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN👑👑👑 I'M HAPPY TO CELEBRATE MY 30TH BIRTHDAY💖🎁💖🎁💖

🎁🎁I'M SO EXCITED🎁🎁 I'M LOOKING FORWARD TO THIS DAY🎁🎁🎁 I'VE BEEN THINKING A LOT ABOUT PRIORITIES AND CHANGES IN MY LIFE⭐️⭐️ 30 IS A HUGE MISSING TIME IN A WOMAN'S LIFE⭐️⭐️⭐️

I used to expect a lot. I expected people to change. I expected circumstances to eventually reward my patience. I expected that if I just tried hard enough, things would work out the way I imagined them. And every expectation was a small knife I carried around, ready to hurt myself with it when reality didn't cooperate.

To be the light that draws them toward goodness. To use my femininity, my grace, my presence as this quiet force that uplifts everyone around me.

And mid-sentence, I realized I was doing what I'd done a thousand times before: shrinking my experience, softening my words, making myself palatable so someone else could feel comfortable with how I felt.

There's a way that the world treats women who have real beliefs—women who won't compromise on what matters to them. We become inconvenient.

But when you grow up in a world where "better" isn't even a concept you're allowed to consider, leaving looks different. It looks like betrayal. It looks like ingratitude. It looks like rejecting everything your family built for you.

Like somewhere between eighteen and twenty-five, you're supposed to suddenly know your entire life trajectory. Career, location, the kind of person you want to become—everything crystallized and certain.

That's not how it works. I realized that recently—actually, I realized it after a moment where I thought I was past something, and then it came back. And I felt like I failed.

The world tells women their bodies belong to them and only them. But our faith teaches something different. Our bodies belong to God first. And the way we treat them, the way we present them, the decisions we make about them—these are spiritual choices.

For so long, I thought I had to be mysterious, unbothered, like nothing really mattered to me. I thought that made me attractive. I thought it made me seem strong and independent. What it actually made me was exhausting to be around.