Emile Thelander

It’s not that I don’t care. I just care more selectively these days.

For a long time, I tried to win approval – managing other people’s emotions, smoothing things over, doing what made me the good guy. But it was draining.

I still care, just differently. Not less, just cleaner. If something feels alive, I’m in. If it feels like extraction or obligation, I let it go.

Independence sounds clean in theory – the self in command, untethered. In practice, every step toward autonomy means carrying more alone.

Dependence feels like surrender, yet it also spreads the weight. Independence feels like control, yet it sharpens every burden.

Maybe there isn’t a clean win here. Only a balance, shifting day by day – enough help to breathe, enough freedom to feel alive.

It’s tempting to pin change on dates and milestones – New Year’s, birthdays, the first of the month. Each one carries the hope of a reset, a clean break from what came before.

But no date erases the past. January 1st doesn’t dissolve December. A birthday doesn’t rewrite the last year. Even a new project doesn’t leave the old self behind.

What does work is continuity. Small shifts, repeated, slowly accumulate. The scraps and false starts don’t need erasing – they fold into what comes next. They’re compost, not waste.

Milestones can still matter, but not as magic switches. They’re markers along the same path, reminders of where you’ve been and where you’re heading.

The past isn’t undone. It’s carried forward – and that’s where the change actually lives.

TikTok is probably the last place I’d expect to find myself. I’ve never really fit into social media – the rhythm has never been mine. Which is exactly why I’m curious.

This site is a quiet corner. I like it that way. But if I only stay here, almost nobody will stumble across what I share. TikTok, for better or worse, has reach.

And yet, I haven’t posted. Each day I wait, the act of posting feels heavier. Not just Where do I start? but Do I want to play by the rules of a platform built on speed and performance?

Maybe the beginning is admitting I don’t know. Even silence becomes its own performance. The question is whether I can use TikTok without letting it use me.

I’ve noticed a pattern: I can take something I love and slowly turn it into an obligation. Music is one of the clearest examples. At first it felt playful, but soon it became about expectations.

The same thing happens with this website. What started as a space to share ideas and creations, partly to break away from platform pressures, can become another task to manage if I’m not careful.

I’ve noticed this tug-of-war in other areas too. Even things I’ve chosen freely, like starting a new account, sharing work or experimenting, can feel like a daily obligation if I let expectations creep in. Desire shifts into duty, and joy becomes a weight.

This is the shift from intrinsic motivation (doing something because I enjoy it) to extrinsic motivation: doing it for recognition, rewards, or to avoid guilt. The cycle goes like this: start with curiosity and joy, add expectation, joy becomes obligation, avoidance and guilt set in. The moment something feels like a cage, I want out. That keeps me honest, but it can also make me toss aside structures that might have supported me.

This tension isn’t just personal. The Greeks even had names for it: Apollo, order and clarity; Dionysus, chaos and instinct. Too much Apollo, and life turns rigid. Too much Dionysus, and it becomes unstable. The point isn’t to choose one side but to let them balance each other. Structure isn’t the enemy – it’s only a problem when it stops supporting freedom and starts smothering it.

So the question isn’t: do I want structure or freedom? Better questions are: what kind of structure actually gives me more freedom? What kind of freedom makes me feel secure? For me, that might mean limiting myself to one or two projects I truly want to do, setting lighter expectations, and remembering that not every quiet day is wasted. Sometimes waiting is part of the rhythm.

I can turn almost anything into an obligation if I’m not careful. But if I see obligation as a signal instead of a failure, it can guide me back to balance. Some structures keep me free. Some freedom gives me security. That tension will never go away. The point is to let it stay alive.

This year hasn’t been about chasing goals. It’s been about recalibrating. I’ve been testing tools, experimenting with different ways of working and noticing what actually serves me.

The point isn’t perfection – it’s clarity. I’m seeing myself more clearly, letting go of habits that no longer fit, and trying new directions in both work and life.

I’m constantly fighting the urge to be more “useful” or “productive”, but I’m getting better at resisting it.

It feels less like building something fixed and more like tuning an instrument: small adjustments, then listening closely to see if it resonates.

I catch myself adding extra layers. Reasons, explanations, small stories that make things sound better.

No one asked for them. No one needed them. But I put them there anyway, as if to head off a question that never came.

It’s not lying. It’s a way of controlling the space – protecting myself from being misunderstood, judged, or dismissed before it even happens.

The irony is that most of the time, it’s unnecessary. The scaffolding is mine alone, not theirs.

Maybe the practice is to notice the urge, and let it pass. To see what happens when nothing is pre-empted.

Sometimes a small change throws everything into sharp relief. The work, the people, the tasks – all the same. Only the setting changes.

And yet that shift is enough to strip away the numbness of routine. What perhaps felt manageable yesterday now feels even more hollow. The same faces, the same motions, but suddenly you see what you’ve been carrying more clearly.

It’s not just that the room changed. It’s that you finally noticed what was already there.

I still like teaching. I like when someone understands something or tries something new and it clicks.

What’s heavy is teaching those who don’t want to learn – sitting there because they have to, because it’s expected, or because they need another certificate. It’s like pushing water uphill.

I want to work with students who are curious, self-motivated and putting in the effort. Where I can guide rather than enforce. With them, teaching is enjoyable.

The other day, someone I know stood before the judges, trying to be someone they weren’t. He dressed the part, tried to carry someone else’s voice, and it didn’t land. The proposal was good, but the delivery came off as overly dramatic. His words stumbled, because they weren’t his.

Yesterday was different. No borrowed style, no extra layers. Just himself – neat, relaxed, unforced. The pitch carried on its own, and this time, it landed.

The difference wasn’t technique. It was authenticity. Performance makes you tense; authenticity makes you present. One ties you in knots, the other carries further, because it’s lighter – you don’t have to hold up a mask while you speak.

Maybe that’s the only “technique” worth practicing: stop pretending, and show up as yourself.