I used to believe that the strength of a bridge depended solely on how hard I worked to build it. For ten years, I lived in a chapter where “peace” was something I had to manufacture every single day. I thought if I could just keep every corner of my home perfect, I could control the chaos of a relationship ruled by manipulation and fear. I was the bridge-builder, the fixer, and the healer—until there was nothing left of me to give.
Then came a season where I thought I had finally found my “rest of my life”. But I learned a quiet, painful truth: you can offer a sanctuary to someone, but if they are more comfortable with their old wounds than with a new future, they will find a way to sabotage the very love they claimed to want. In that person’s defense, I think I didn’t help either: I was anxious and scared after a painful divorce and an abusive marriage. Subconsciously, I didn’t believe I deserved to be happy. So when my wounds met his, and when the relationship became too real, the betrayal happened. I was left standing on the shore, realizing I had abandoned myself to save a connection that was never meant to be.
My journey has taken me far—from the academic halls of Finland to friendships that span across continents. I cherish the “Merry Christmases” and the warm “Feliz Navidads” that come from the souls I’ve met along the way. These connections are part of the rich tapestry of my history, but they have also taught me the value of finding a resonance that is close enough to touch, right here in the quiet air of Bucovina.
Today, my life feels like my home—tidy, quiet, and full of a light that I no longer have to fight for. And in this peace, I’ve made a sacred vow to my soul: I will never chase again. This isn’t about pride, and it isn’t about being “tough”. It is about a profound respect for the frequency of my own worth. I am old-fashioned enough to believe that a man in his masculine energy—no matter how busy his life is—knows how to signal his interest if he feels like a door is worth knocking on.
I see the lives of those whose time is not their own. I have nothing but respect for the gravity of a life dedicated to service—for the 24-hour cycles spent holding the line for others. I am not a woman who demands time selfishly; I am a woman who understands the silence of a long shift and the exhaustion of a heavy calling.
I am content to wait in the quiet because I know that a heart like that shouldn’t be “chased”—it should be welcomed when it finally has a moment to breathe. If you are the one I am thinking of, know that the path to this sanctuary is clear, whatever it may lead to. Judging by the way I see life now, I probably won’t be the one to knock on your door, but if you choose to knock on mine, you will find a host who has been holding a seat for you with a very kind heart. Because I know the pain of rejection so well, I could never offer it to a sincere soul. And because I’ve gone through the painful (but so necessary) journey from an anxiously to a securely attached person, so I now know fully well who, what, how and why my soul feels connected to.
And to the ones who find themselves reading this in the quiet margins of a 24-hour cycle, or in the stillness before a long mission begins: may you find a moment of peace today. Know that your dedication is seen, and your own heart deserves the same care you give to others.
Catalina Oana
The Guest List 
Leave a comment