Chaos and the Importance of Truth.

THE STORY – When Life Wreaks Havoc, and Truth Becomes the Most Important Value of All.

With THE STORY I’m sharing words from my soul, stories from my life, and the myth of my experience. This time it’s all about a deep longing for stories that are truthful, and why I feel that sharing what’s real is more important than ever.

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I am traversing through a void, and yet it is one that isn’t empty. Quite the opposite.

I know, it sounds like a paradox – and I guess that’s exactly what it is. Like most of life, most of the time.

Last week I still felt like I was establishing a deeper routine, thanks to a grounded sense of clarity when it comes to my work and offers, and a beautiful feeling of just knowing how to proceed: all I needed to do was to put one foot in front of the other.

That feeling is still there, despite the chaos that has ensued otherwise in my life, and it shows me that the clarity and commitment to my branding work is real, and rooted. Even when the world turns upside down, it remains. Steadily, sturdily. A fact that my nervous system cherishes a lot right now: my own brand, as well as doing branding work for my wonderful, current client and prepping a gorgeous set of brand templates (coming soon, stay tuned!) all keep my feet firmly on the ground.

All the while, there’s paradox:

The profound clarity and sense of anchored-ness that I feel, and the chaos-infused rollercoaster of navigating my fertility journey, which has been on the backdrop of my life for four years now.

And hand in hand with that goes managing IBD, which has been troubling me for the past nine years – currently presenting me with a flare-up that’s bad enough to have had me head to the gastroenterology department of our nearest hospital a whopping three times this week.

A week that began with an absolute high, turning into a heart-breaking low, when the pregnancy test following our second IUI attempt showed a faint, second line – only to result in my period arriving a few hours later, seeing both me and my husband crash down to rock bottom once more. Never had we been so full of hope and anticipation since my first miscarriage in 2021, and I am still in disbelief how fast that day changed from praying for this to be “it”, to realising our time had still not yet come.

A week has passed since that day.

The emotional turmoil has settled, even though it still hurts more than before when passing mothers and their newborns out in the street, or receiving pictures of my baby niece. When I see pregnant bellies walk past me, I try to remind myself that these women might also have years of trial and error behind them, before they finally got to celebrate their changing bodies and growing baby bumps.

It’s something I am thinking a lot about these days: the stories that we are presented, versus the stories that are real.

I think of the polished Instagram presentations of perfect pregnancies, perfect lives overall. And also: perfect businesses. Neatly curated stories of 10k months that, so they say, have been generated in no time whatsoever.

I receive cold pitches from women who promise to help me “manifest” my baby, and millions.

I watch it all, searching for grains of truth. Searching for the real deal. The stories that life has written, not the ones that have been curated to fit a culture of perfectionism and production, a story that tells us we have to be it all: boss babe, badass mum, seductive lover, manifesting goddess.

None of these things are wrong to pursue, I’d say. But I cringe at the way socials are overflowing with picture-perfect success stories.

I long for what’s real.

I long to read from and work with beautiful souls who don’t fear sharing their full humanness with the world. I long to engage with those who seek to lighten up all of the human experience – not just the glimpses of greatness and glory.

I bow to the boss babe who makes a great deal of money, yet doesn’t hide the fact that they struggle with chronic illness, anxiety, and depression.

I bow to the badass mum-to-be who shares her baby announcement with deep joy, yet with sincere honesty about her struggles and doubts, acknowledging the grief and mixed feelings that her share will induce in those who have been trying unsuccessfully, or have lost their babies.

I bow to the seductive lover who is autistic and fully transparent about their needs and their gifts, educating the world by simply being true to themselves on what it takes to level the playing field for all neurotypes existing on this planet at this time.

I bow to the manifesting goddess who doesn’t shy back from being honest about how long it took them to find the right path in business, let alone make it work for them – and that, for now, they still have another job to make ends meet.

I don’t think we need more stories of perfection, but stories of realness.

Not to trauma-bond over shared pain, or to dive into collective victimhood, but to shed light onto what it truly means to be human right here, right now, in a world that is hurting deeply.

It touches on what I have realised are some of the most important values for me in my life: honesty, truthfulness, and authenticity.

I know that longing to see the full, complete truth is part of my autistic experience. I have always felt like I have some kind of x-ray vision when it comes to the truth – an inherent ability to sniff it out, and to feel physically sick when it is in any way altered or veiled. I have never understood why people would lie, or obstruct the truth – to me it seems like an illogical, and simply unnatural approach (can nature lie, I wonder?). And yet, so much of our society and culture is built on keeping up illusions. It can feel very difficult to find solid footing in such a world as a being that feels so dependent on truth being accessible.

With all that said, I return to the paradox I started out with: the void that is so very full of life.

I feel that within the chaos, I am, in fact, sorting truth from lie. I am facing the spaces and places of my existence where I haven’t lived my own truth fully enough, and I can feel:

My body is guiding the way to a different approach.

An approach that means working on the business of my dreams transparently and in full attunement with my body, soul and kindred spirits, even though it doesn’t fit in with capitalist ideals and status quo business advice.

It means travelling down the river of patience and trust towards motherhood, not hiding the difficulties and challenges from the world, out of fear they could make my femininity look less powerful or flawed.

It means embracing the fullness of the sensual, sensitive, deep, poetry-seeking lover of life that I am, including all my autistic and mystic traits that make me me, no matter how inconvenient or confusing they might be for the “world out there”.

It means going through the initiations of life with an open heart, and not abiding to New Age ideas on what one is and isn’t permitted to do, feel, and share about as a spiritual being in a physical body.

As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts, stories, and reflections!

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Klara is a soul-led brand creator, vision doula and mystic living mentor.

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