#3 Stories written by Life

Sometimes life places familiar emotional patterns in front of us through entirely different people. Even years, age differences, and completely different circumstances can’t always prevent old heartaches from resurfacing. You think certain wounds have long been buried, until a new connection unexpectedly awakens them — this time offering you a chance to respond differently.

In April 2015, Stig and I walked through Haga, the old part of Gothenburg, on a rainy afternoon. Small cafés and little shops lined both sides of the pedestrian street. The cobblestones gave the neighborhood an old-world charm, as though time moved more slowly there.

I decided to step into a bookstore.

A few narrow stairs led up to the entrance. The door was framed in weathered wood with an old metal handle polished by decades of hands. We wandered through the store even though I didn’t speak Swedish.

At one point, Stig picked up a book from a display table, opened it casually, and said,

„Ich bekomme Royalties für jedes verkaufte Exemplar.“

I looked at him, surprised.

“The author asked if she could use my photography in her book,” he explained.

I flipped through the pages. We had been dating for six months, yet he had barely mentioned his photography career.

As we were leaving the store, one of the shop assistants recognized him.

Her body language spoke louder than words.

Her shoulders pulled back. Her chest lifted. She lightly shook her hair, rose onto her tiptoes, and leaned against the counter.

And suddenly, something old inside me stirred.

I quietly took a step back and thought:
Here we go again.

Nearly twenty years had passed, yet I found myself standing in another familiar moment involving another artist.

Only this time, I chose differently.

I stepped back and observed, even as old fear moved through me instantly.

If Stig responded to the attention with flirtation — through his body language, energy, or words — I already knew I’d be on a plane back to Canada two days later, completely at peace with that decision.

But he stayed calm.

He simply confirmed that yes, he was the photographer she recognized. Nothing more. He seemed untouched by the attention.

Outside, I inhaled the cold air beneath the heavy clouds and finally asked him:

“Who are you?”

I had never Googled Stig.

Casually, he mentioned that he had sold photography to people in more than thirty countries, including the Vatican.

I answered honestly:

“Don’t worry. I’m not here for the money. I don’t need to be with you — I want to be.”

Then he confessed something unexpected:
“I actually don’t like attention.”

That moment stayed with me.

I grew up watching my parents drift apart when outside noise became louder than the relationship itself. It’s easy for people to get pulled in different directions when attention, validation, or admiration enters the picture.

What I always wanted growing up was deep love. The kind where two people ground and uplift one another. A relationship built on honesty, trust, and emotional safety.

But I had also been hurt at a very young and tender age.

Standing outside that bookstore, I recognized my old pattern immediately.

And this time, I chose differently.

Instead of stepping emotionally into the situation, I stepped back into myself.

I chose self-respect.
Self-worth.

Healthy boundaries.
Clear communication.

Great chemistry doesn’t happen often in life.

But I learned that the most important chemistry I’ll ever have is the one with myself.

This time, I didn’t lose myself.
And because of that, I didn’t get hurt.

Instead, I found what I had dreamed of as a young girl:
real love, commitment, and honesty.

When you truly love yourself, you become like a tree — grounded enough to stand on your own, yet still able to grow beside others.

Life often repeats similar situations until we finally respond differently. In my case, it took two decades.

For the first time, I realized I didn’t have to react from the same wound.

And as for the repeated appearance of artists throughout my life — perhaps I finally learned to mirror them back through my own art of writing.