Hello Hive! It’s been a while since my last post — around three months, give or take a procrastination-filled eternity...
Actually, I recently realized I had this post sitting in my drafts all this time! Life’s been doing that thing where it throws you in a blender, cranks it to 'obliterate,' and forgets to put the lid on. Lately, though, I've been so absorbed in developing Hive-Engine Python scripts that I didn’t even notice this sitting here, waiting to be published. If you're into scripts and crypto pools, you know how that goes — the hours just vanish.
(I'll be littering the post with some autumny photos I've taken through the years.)
For those who don’t know, I’ve been living with a chronic illness, atopia gravis, for most of my life — 33 out of my 48 years. (That’s right, I’ve been around long enough to see mullets come back twice.) It’s been a wild ride, featuring days when just functioning felt like a small miracle and years of treating my skin like a science experiment with corticosteroids, UV light therapy, and pretty much everything except a shaman. Then, about two years ago, I stumbled upon a biological medicine called Dupilumab. And voilà — for the first time in decades, my skin isn’t an angry red map of Mordor.
But just when I thought I was winning the battle of atopia, life threw me a plot twist — financial struggles that have left me feeling stuck and knee-deep in debt, like I’m starring in an underwhelming sequel nobody asked for, yet here I am, watching it on repeat.
And when I say "stuck," I mean stuck-stuck. Like trying to pull apart two Lego bricks with your bare hands — stuck. Not just financially, but emotionally and creatively too. It’s been like a creative traffic jam in my brain, and the metaphorical traffic cops have all gone on strike. As much as I’ve missed writing here and connecting with this awesome community, the weight of it all has been stifling, leaving me wondering if I even have anything interesting to say anymore.
That said, I’ve been slowly making my way back, posting here and there on Hive, and really diving into Python development. Writing code has been a bit of an outlet, and honestly, it’s helped me regain some of that spark that I’d lost. The community here — whether you’re talking code or life stuff — has always been great, and it's been good to interact, even if in short bursts.
Lately, I’ve been chewing on a thought: "Your lived experience doesn’t really matter unless you actually overcome it yourself." Sounds a bit like the tagline for a self-help book written by a drill sergeant, right? But stay with me.
I’ve started to believe that our experiences — no matter how tough or bizarre — don’t get to define us. What counts is how we react, adapt, and keep moving forward. (Or at least keep shuffling forward like we’re playing a really slow game of zombie tag.) I know overcoming can feel impossible, like trying to teach a cat to fetch. But there’s something powerful about not letting those experiences be the reason we expect the world to treat us differently.
Don’t get me wrong — I’m deeply grateful for the support I’ve had, from the Finnish healthcare system (seriously, they deserve a round of applause) and for the wonderful people who’ve helped me along the way. But I’ve come to feel that we shouldn't let our struggles turn into reasons to demand special treatment, but rather opportunities to become more than those challenges – to turn them into really strange but ultimately uplifting plot points in our life story.
So, why am I sharing all this with you? Because I know a lot of us have been through, or are going through, something tough. I hope we can find ways to take our weird and wonderful experiences and use them as stepping stones — not stumbling blocks.
What about you? How have you found strength in your journey? Let’s chat — I'd love to hear your stories, the funnier, the better!