I woke up to bright sunshine filling the sky. I asked my husband, “Shall we go swimming today?” At first, he said he had many things to do. Then, as though the day itself had made up its mind, he came back to me and said, “Let’s go swim.” Without that small shift, none of what followed would have happened.

So we packed our things. Just as we were about to leave the house, we noticed our neighbor in his backyard. My husband told me to bring the small cake we had prepared for him as a gift. I rushed back inside, grabbed it, and we walked over to give it to him. I said, “Happy New Year,” and my husband said, “Happy Epiphany Day.”

I asked, “Epiphany? What’s that?”

My husband explained that it’s the day Jesus Christ was born and the three kings brought gifts to him. As he handed the cake to our neighbor, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was a coincidence.

We talked for a bit and then headed toward the sea on foot. Along the way, we saw a muscular man walking in the opposite direction carrying a towel, so I assumed he had just finished swimming.

When we reached the spot where I had swum before, I showed it to my husband. He asked, “Is this the place where you swam naked last time?”

I said yes. I told him I hadn’t planned it — the water had been so inviting that day.

“And where that creepy man talked to you?”

“Yes,” I replied. I told him I had already been covered then.

“You have to shout if it ever happens again,” my husband said. He was frustrated by how some people disrespect boundaries.

I wish I had. But at that time, I was too scared.

After we changed, just before we entered the water, the man we had seen earlier suddenly walked toward us and stood very close. The spot was tiny, hidden between rocks, almost like a small room. Even though it was a public place, it felt uncomfortable.

He tried to say something to me. I couldn’t understand at first. Then he kept repeating, “It’s a nude beach here. It’s a nude beach.”

I said, “What? Nude beach?”

He told us that if we wanted to swim, we had to go somewhere else. His tone was unfriendly.

Something stirred in me, and it had nothing to do with whether it was a nude beach or not.

Honestly, I don’t mind people swimming naked — I like that freedom too. But freedom doesn’t mean controlling others or claiming space as your own.

I raised my voice and responded to the fully grown man standing half naked nearby.

“We were here before you, and you have no right to tell us to leave.”

He became angry and walked away.

I went into the water. The cold January sea didn’t bother me because I felt proud of myself. For the first time, there was no confusion about whether I was allowed to be there.

After we came out of the water, we talked about Epiphany again. My husband told me that in Orthodox tradition, especially in Cyprus, it is also the day celebrating the baptism of Jesus Christ. I was amazed — we had just gone deep into the sea on that very day. The cold still lingered on my skin, pulsing with every breath.

Overcoming the guilt of simply existing made me feel reborn, like a baptism. And that day, my body was beating with life, releasing the first blood of my period.

I lived in a spiritual community for years. I found my way there after my romantic relationship fell apart and the identity of a city-ambitioned girl came to an end.

The new circle, the new language, the new group of people under a new identity called spiritual community felt incredibly comforting. I don’t deny that it was one of the most magical periods of my life. Days and nights soaked in light and love. Friendships felt effortless. Conversations went deep fast. I made friends in almost every corner of the community, and I truly believed: this is it. I had found my place.

At the time, it felt like liberation.

Looking back, I can see it was also a kind of refuge.

Leaving the community was not a voluntary choice, but a matter of circumstance.

My body regained awareness first, long before my mind could understand what was happening. The body knew. It tightened, resisted, grew tired of holding a shape that was no longer true. My mind tried to keep up, searching for meaning, for justification, for something to replace what was dissolving.

At times, I felt completely lost — as if I were being swallowed by darkness.

Like withdrawing from a drug, I suffered. There was no ceremony for leaving. No blessing. No gentle transition. Just the absence of what once held me.

What surfaced wasn’t peace.

It was self-hatred.

An aversion toward the version of me inside the spiritual form — the one who built an ego around softness, who wrapped superiority in the language of love. The one who wore happiness, peace, and compassion like a costume, believing that if I embodied them well enough, I would never have to feel lost again.

That version of me judged the world harshly.

Measured others by how “awake” they were.

Felt irritated by anything I labeled unconscious.

Mistook sensitivity for truth and detachment for wisdom.

I saw how easily spirituality became a shield — a way to stand above life instead of inside it. And seeing that in myself was unbearable. I didn’t just lose a community. I lost a self-image I had invested everything in.

There was grief not only for what I had loved, but for how deeply I had believed. For how much of myself I had given away to an idea of goodness. For how I had confused belonging with purity, and clarity with certainty.

The detaching process was painful and lonely — letting go of an identity I once believed was me.

It wasn’t a clean break. There was no hand holding me through it, no containment to soften the fall. I walked it alone.

The echo of the old identity followed me everywhere.

You are lost.

Why leave love and light?

Why grow at all when you can stay held here with us?

I believed that voice more times than I want to admit.

I tried to find the same containment elsewhere — something familiar, something that looked like what I had left behind. I knocked on doors that resembled the old ones. I stepped into new rooms hoping they would hold me the same way.

But every door felt closed.

I don’t know how long this journey will last, or whether I will eventually form another identity to rest upon. But one thing is certain:

I am not lost.

I may be between forms.

Between identities.

Between places.

But I am exactly where I am meant to be.

It has been a difficult time.

My husband and I are packing for a move—

the house cluttered with things, heavy lifting, long days that end in exhaustion.

I find myself trapped in triggers, day in and day out.

The abandonment wound speaks loudly, and an old idea rises in me: leave before I am left.

A survival mechanism I’ve used for years.

I struggle in the bitterness of the life I did not choose.

The rain clouds the sky, as tears pour from my eyes.

Sometimes, when my husband and I enter difficult emotions, that voice rises in me: leave.

Especially because I don’t live in a place I love anymore. When I left Koh Phangan, the island I adored, I questioned myself:

Am I sacrificing my life for love?

Without him, I would still be living there, on my beloved island.

As if it was not confusing enough, a tantric guru spoke over the internet about a great ending that happened around a time of powerful celestial shifts, as if whispering in my ear: This is a sign for you to leave too, to return to the familiarity you once believed in.

But that old voice is losing its power.

I see through these voices, just as I see through the false guru. These so-called teachers spoke about love and relationship in such a devoted way, and then gave abrupt reasons why their relationships ended. Often it was after meditation that they “realized” they were no longer aligned, leaving the real cause of separation unspoken. No one admitted their wounds.

For a long time this unsettled me. It was as if the ground shook. Because I held their relationships in a high place, as role models. And if even they could lose love, what was left to believe in? I felt bitterness, and separation rose in me, echoing the same wound I carried from my parents’ divorce.

It has taken me a long journey to see that what I was really leaving behind was not love—but my addiction to Koh Phangan and the idea of life I built there.

The island gave me so much—healing, wisdom, beauty, community. But I was trapped in the illusion that only there could I find love and happiness. That lifestyle felt like the whole truth about me. That only in circles and ceremonies could I thrive.

Meanwhile, my husband took me to see the world. We traveled through countries, stayed in luxury, and he provided everything. Yet often I could not see any of it. My vision was narrowed. All I saw was my longing for the island, the life I had known. Only now do I realize how small my mind had become.

I had isolated myself. Conditioned myself to believe in only one way of love. Instead of expanding, I shrank—content with one place, one way, one identity.

But in truth, I was not content.

In many areas of my life I was stuck. My career as a writer and creator suffered; when my mind was trapped, so was my expression. I abandoned choices and dreams that no longer seemed to fit the “island way.” Judgment crept in. Isolation closed me off from the wider world.

Everything felt wrong, as though the whole world spun in the wrong direction—except for my beloved island.

And then, on the morning of September 21, a partial solar eclipse comes.

The sky begins to shift. The heaviness lightens.

I see my situation with clearer eyes.

During eclipses, something is always hidden, and something revealed.

Something must end so that something new can begin.

Now I see the wisdom in those words I once heard: that something must die during times of transition. They were right. But for me, it was not my relationship with my husband.

We are not perfect. Yet with each conflict, with each disharmony, we grow stronger. What must end is not our love, but our separation.

The fear.

The trauma we both carry.

The belief that happiness lives only on an island.

The voice that told me to leave when things got hard—

that voice no longer has power over me.

But the truth is:

✨ It takes courage to stay.

✨ It takes depth to face the mirror of relationship, where every wound is reflected back.

✨ It takes love to not run, but to transform inside the fire.

I don’t want to be fooled into believing that “leaving is always the higher path.” I know in my body that sometimes true wisdom is in the staying, in the transforming.

Back to why I went to the island in the first place: I once did the same with Koh Phangan. I called it refuge, but really it was escape. It was a beautiful escape — healing, community, beauty — but still an escape.

The world hurt me, so I ran from it. And yet, as I’ve seen, what is left undone never disappears. It waits. It calls me back. The wound is not healed by running, only by facing.

That’s why my soul is asking now:

• Don’t abandon myself when it gets hard.

• Don’t dress escape as growth.

• Meet life full-on, with open eyes, even when it hurts.

So now, as I pack my belongings, I also pack away the illusions I once clung to.

And as I let go of boxes and clutter,

I let the old illusions go, too.

The Escape & The Island

In 2018, I was heartbroken. I ran away to an island for healing — little did I know, this wasn’t just any ordinary island. It was a tantric island.

I had no idea. There was even a part of the island where yogis had created a rule: one of the beaches allowed nude swimming. Still, I remained unaware. I didn’t know I had landed on sacred ground — a place soaked in tantra.

When I finally realized where I was, I felt a wave of internal resistance. A part of me wanted to leave — to run again. But something kept me there. I surrendered. I joined in. I stayed to see for myself.

In the midst of rituals, ceremonies, and practices, the veil I had carried — shaped by conventional ideas of love, control, and possession — began to loosen.

I practiced open love. I became intimate with more than one man at a time. I even participated in Tantra Temple Night. I let go of what I thought love was “supposed” to be, and instead, let love meet me in any form it chose.

That year was incredible — the juiciest of my life. My mind released its grip on conventional love and opened to something new: tantric love. I prayed for a tantric man — a man who worships at the altar, who believes in devotion. And when I thought I found him, I believed: This is it. This is perfect love.

The Illusion of Tantric Love & Awakening to the Truth

But illusion doesn’t always show up in the same costume.

At one point, I even said I had manifested a tantric man — a teacher, no less. I fantasized about the idea of them. But over time, I realized: most tantric men were just… men. Dressed in new words. Embodying a form of love, but not its essence.

Many of those men were miserable. They hid behind the altar. They performed devotion but didn’t embody it. Their lives weren’t drenched in love — only in the illusion of worship.

That was my awakening: embodiment is not decoration.

It’s not in rituals, or words, or titles. It’s in how someone breathes, listens, chooses — especially when no one’s watching.

On the island, the ideal of freedom and equality often replaced the reality of love and responsibility.

The kind of man most often found there was the man who wanted “freedom.” The man who claimed equality — which really meant: you pay half. Half rent. Half meals. Half responsibility. Full freedom for them. That’s it.

I tried to connect with the essence of these men, and maybe I did see some light. But I couldn’t attach — not because I was more spiritual, but because my body knew: This isn’t safe.

They weren’t committed to relationship. They were committed to idealism. To the idea of “tantric love.” But once love fell outside the tantric framework, no one stayed — not the men, not even the women. They weren’t committed to people. They were committed to a concept.

It looked like equality. It was convenience.

It looked like freedom. It was escape.

And essence without commitment is just a glimpse — not a foundation.

This isn’t just my story.

So many women who came to that island for healing fell into the same trance. Under the glow of tantra workshops, they mistook lovers for gods. They saw “divine union” in the rituals.

But when the form dissolved, so did the fantasy. And heartbreak followed.

We traded one illusion for another: first, conventional love — shaped by control, possession, and “forever.” Then, spiritual love — shaped by altars, sacred words, and performance.

Each time, it looked like freedom.

Each time, it was still a cage.

And I’m relieved I didn’t get stuck in it. I lived inside it just long enough to know it — and then I walked out, with eyes open.

In spiritual circles, astrology, “patterns,” and signs often become sacred frameworks. But let’s be honest — they’re just like personality tests in conventional dating.

Useful? Sometimes.

Truth? Not always.

They can offer insight, but they can’t replace lived experience.

Too often, these tools become excuses to override our boundaries. Even women who teach Tantra or boundaries sometimes forget them when love enters the room. They surrender to signs instead of truth. They accept poor treatment and call it “divine.”

They spiritualize pain: “It’s a lesson.” “He’s my twin flame.” “The universe sent him.”

But often, it’s just limerence — obsession born from old wounds. I know, because I lived that way too.

What triggers me most isn’t longing — it’s blindness. When someone teaches loudly but can’t see their own shadow. That dissonance — between public light and private truth — is dangerous.

And yes, I’ve been that person. Fiery. Certain. Newly awakened. I thought I had the truth and judged those who didn’t. I wasn’t malicious — I was just young in my awakening.

Now, when I see others doing the same, I’m not just reacting to them — I’m seeing my old self. It’s like watching my past skin walk around on someone else. I cringe, but I also understand. It once kept me warm.

Meeting My Husband — Tantra in Daily Life

Then I met my husband.

All the guards fell. He didn’t know the word “tantra.” He didn’t speak a spiritual language. He never set an altar. He gets dizzy doing yoga. He struggles to sit cross-legged. In every way, he was not “that kind of man.”

But in essence, he was that man.

He embodied tantra — not through rituals or words, but through grounded love. He protects. He provides. He shows up — especially in conflict. When I get stuck in my ego, he’s the one who softens first, asks the question that breaks the walls.

In our hardest moments, he looks into my eyes and says:

“What can I do to make this better?”

He initiates the healing — not from a script, not from a workshop, but from his soul. In his presence, I see the divine. No incense, no candles. Just truth — alive in the real world.

While many “spiritual men” use teachings as weapons in conflict, he uses presence.

He doesn’t back down when things get hard.

I’ve seen so many tantric teachers — especially women — still struggle with this. Their identities get wrapped in the form. They teach others, but can’t see their own patterns. Love becomes a performance: aligned charts, cosmic matches, sacred ideals. It looks like depth, but it’s often romantic idealism dressed in spiritual robes.

But true love isn’t in the stars. It’s in time and action.

A “tantric man” doesn’t always live in a tantric community. He could be anywhere — working 9-5, raising kids, rooted in real life. He might never say a Sanskrit prayer, but he lives his devotion through action. That’s the one. That’s love.

Unblind yourself from the concept — and you might find him.

Koh Phangan & The Grief of Letting Go

When I lived in Koh Phangan, I was consumed by love. Not with one man — with many. Love was everywhere. Fast. Dramatic. Magical. One high after another. One fantasy after the next.

I told myself I was learning non-attachment. That I was free. But really, I was addicted to the high. And when I left, I grieved — deeply.

Now, I can’t feel the same way. I’ve seen through it. I no longer live in fantasy. And sometimes, I miss it. I feel jealousy when I see someone still dancing in that space.

But I also feel relief. Because I’m not lost anymore.

It’s like grieving a version of myself that once lived in technicolor romance — while honoring that I’ve matured into someone who can build, create, and sustain.

Devotion to God — The Romance

Back then, I didn’t just love men — I loved God. I wasn’t raised with God. I was Buddhist. But heartbreak cracked me open, and I surrendered to something bigger.

God became a romance. I sang. I cried. I lit candles. I prayed every morning:

“Use me, Lord. Let me see the world through your eyes. Let me hear your words. Let me speak your words.”

It gave me beauty. Songs. Prayers. Longing. The sense that someone almighty was choosing me, guiding me, carrying me.

And I was in love.

The Loss — From God to Self

Then came the deeper truth: God was never outside of me. God was me.

And suddenly, the romance dissolved. Not because it wasn’t real — but because it was time to grow.

How do you long for yourself? How do you light incense to your own body? How do you cry to the mirror?

It was easier when God was outside. He could be perfect. Flawless. Everything I wasn’t. But now, devotion turns inward. And it’s quieter. Harder. Because I am not always perfect. And yet… this is the truth:

There is no savior but me.

I lost the devotional romance —

But I gained something real:

The power to navigate my life without waiting for a sign or an alignment from the stars.

Now, the devotion is to myself.

To the fiery goddess — the one who holds anger, jealousy, joy, tenderness. Who doesn’t hide. Who doesn’t apologize. Who is whole.

Devotion to Self

So yes — the trigger I had toward the tantric community was also about grief.

Grief for the version of me who longed for men. Who longed for God. Who felt chosen, uplifted, romanticized. Who cried songs of surrender. Who felt magnetic and special through the eyes of someone else — man or God.

And yes, it was beautiful. And now… I don’t want to go back.

The true devotion now is to myself.

Not the polished saint — but the fierce, full goddess within me.

And it’s harder — because she’s not separate.

She is me.

And yes, sometimes it’s hard to believe:

I am that magnetic. I am that special.

I choose myself.

That’s the work now.

Not to be chosen — but to choose myself.

To see myself as worthy of the devotion I once gave away so freely.

It’s Okay

And with all that said — I feel clarity.

The jealousy fades.

The grief softens.

That part of my life was beautiful.

I don’t want to go back, but I can honor it.

And it’s okay if others are still living there.

It’s not my job to fix them.

That version of love gave me joy. It gave me magic.

And now, I walk with that memory —

Not as a cage. But as a chapter.

There was a time when I was deeply embedded in spiritual communities, the kind that gather in eco-villages, host conscious festivals, and speak of tantra, sacred living, and soul-aligned love. I once found refuge in those spaces. Inspiration. A sense of purpose. It all felt so vibrant, so full of promise.

But something has shifted.

Since stepping away from that world, I’ve noticed an unexpected tension arise especially when I come across social media posts from those communities. Blissful retreats. Ecstatic dances. Glowing words about divine love and conscious connection. Where I once felt resonance, I now feel discomfort. A quiet recoil in my body.

It’s not about any one person or post. It’s something deeper — a subtle but profound dissonance between what is portrayed and what I’ve come to see behind the scenes.

At first, I couldn’t quite place it. But with time, I began to understand: it’s not that the community changed. It’s that I changed.

The Island That Saved Me

In 2018, I arrived on a small island in Thailand, carrying heartbreak, confusion, and the disorientation of a collapsing identity. I had lost a relationship, felt unaligned with my work, and was terrified of not having income or a defined place in the world. I was a woman unraveling.

The island felt like sanctuary. I had always dreamed of living near the sea, but imagined it would come later after success, after wealth, after building a business and retiring to a villa. Instead, I arrived at that dream empty-handed, barefoot, and broken.

My home was a tiny wooden bungalow no air conditioning, no hot water but I had the sea. And for the first time, I felt joy. Not the joy of achievement, but the joy of simply being. I surrendered. I gave up the chase. I let life happen. I felt held by something I call God.

The more I let go, the more I flowed. Life became full of story and meaning. I stopped planning and started trusting. And in this state of openness, I stumbled into a spiritual school.

The School That Changed Me

I came upon a yoga school that offered free classes for Thai citizens like me. It felt like a guide, so I said yes. I immersed myself in all-day yoga practice, lectures, and a community that celebrated embodiment and connection.

Little did I know that this was not any ordinary school, but one of the biggest tantra schools in Thailand. When I realized this, I faced an internal resistance. Their practices felt counter to my Buddhist upbringing. Love without possession? Sacred sexuality? Polyamory? It was all too much.

And yet, they were freer than me. Happier.

Eventually, curiosity got the best of me. I joined.

And what I found cracked me open: I realized my love had always been conditional. That my pain came not from heartbreak, but from my own tightly held beliefs. That what I called love was often control.

This was more than healing. It was a full identity shift. I stopped needing certainty. I embraced flow. I felt reborn.

I didn’t just study there I belonged. I knew the island, the people, the rhythm. Despite being one of the few Thai people in a mostly foreign community, I felt at home.

The Collapse

Then came the scandal.

Accusations surfaced — rape, abuse, misconduct. The founder of the school. Then more stories. More women. The community fractured. Trust shattered.

What had been my spiritual home dissolved almost overnight. Friends left. Classes disappeared. A dream turned to dust.

I didn’t choose sides. I saw the nuance — the trauma, the lack of care, the way sacred practices became dangerous when used without awareness. But the grief hit hard.

And just as the school collapsed, I fell in love with a man and left the island.

Two losses at once. One chosen. One forced.

Trying to Go Back

I couldn’t let go.

I traveled the world but compared every place to the island. I told my partner we should live there. When we returned a year later, I was heartbroken. The island had changed. My people were gone. I had forgotten they were tourists, not permanent fixtures.

I returned again, and again. Each time, I hoped for the magic to return. And each time, I was reminded: we had both changed.

Yet I found new joys — new communities, new practices. I started to rebuild a different kind of relationship with the island. But nothing ever felt like that school.

The Medicine Journey

Years later, in a time of personal crisis, I returned to the island and began working with plant medicine. The medicine showed me things I hadn’t wanted to see: the shadow behind the light, subtle hierarchies masked as freedom. Rules hidden under the guise of “flow.” Fear of the outside world cloaked in spiritual language. Communities that were “light-filled” on the surface but carried a quiet undercurrent of isolation, control, and spiritual bypassing.

I saw how the school had given me a container — but also taken something. I saw how the community’s beliefs, though never forced, had subtly shaped me. I had judged ambition, rejected technology, suppressed my voice in the name of harmony. I thought I was spiritual, but I was just edited.

So when I see those communities now, or people still immersed in them, it’s not the beautiful photos or poetic captions that bother me. It’s the mirror they hold up. They still embody a dream I once gave myself to completely — the same dream I’ve worked so hard to disentangle from.

When I met old friends still in the school, I saw them with new eyes. Not with hate, but with clarity. I saw their superiority, their fixed identities. I saw who I had once been.

And I felt disgust. Not to punish. But to detach.

The Deeper Wound

But the real pain goes deeper.

It’s not just about spiritual communities, or tantra, or workshops. It’s about trust. It’s about the ache of having believed in something so fully, only to discover it wasn’t what it claimed to be.

It’s the same wound that was first carved by my parents, by society.

I was told: Be good. Work hard. Do the right thing. And you’ll be loved. You’ll be safe. You’ll be whole.

And I believed them — because they were my world. I gave my youth, my effort, my heart. But when I arrived, I found not wholeness, but exhaustion. Emptiness. A self I didn’t recognize, a life I didn’t love.

So when I hear the voices of the spiritual world — “This is the way. This is love. This is freedom.” — I hear more than just their words. I hear the echo of every promise that didn’t deliver. I feel the sting of every dream I once followed blindly.

And I realize: it’s not that they meant to deceive. It’s that they believed it too, with the same lack of awareness I’ve now outgrown.

From Grief to Ground

For a long time, I carried grief. Grief for the years I gave to dreams that weren’t mine. Grief for the self I tried to mold into someone lovable, acceptable, “spiritual.” Grief for the youth I could have spent doing what I actually loved, instead of what looked good on the outside.

But something has softened in me.

The grief isn’t gone, but it’s composted. The years I once saw as wasted now feel like soil — rich, painful, and alive. Without them, I wouldn’t have the depth or clarity I carry now. I wouldn’t be writing this.

And yet, I hold a subtle truth, too: it could have been otherwise. If I hadn’t believed those lies, I might have walked a different path — maybe one just as beautiful, maybe even more free.

But this is the one I’m on. This is the one I get to speak from.

Reclaiming My Voice

What’s shifted most of all is that I no longer outsource truth. Not to parents, not to gurus, not to glowing social media posts or dreamy retreats. I’ve stopped searching for the “right” path. Instead, I’ve started listening to the quiet wisdom inside — one that doesn’t speak in absolutes, but in honesty.

The story I’m living now is not as shiny. It doesn’t photograph as well. But it’s mine.

And I know now that I was never truly betrayed by the communities, or the people, or even my parents. The deeper betrayal was abandoning my own inner knowing to follow someone else’s version of the truth.

But that’s over now.

I’m writing my own story — with roots in the grief, clarity in the compost, and a voice that no longer needs to convince anyone of the way.

And still despite the disillusionment, despite the awareness I now hold I feel deep gratitude for my parents, for society, for the beloved communities I once called home. They were part of my story. They held me when I could not hold myself. They gave me dreams to live inside of, even if I would one day outgrow them.

And even now, when I think back to those memories — the circles, the music, the sunsets, the laughter I still feel a tingle in my heart. Sometimes it lifts a quiet smile. Not because I want to return, but because something beautiful did exist there too. Something real. Something that touched me.

I know there is light and shadow in all of them as there is in me. And I hope that one day, I can look into both and love them all.

It’s a new year. The first day of 2025.

Last night, I stayed up late writing Chapter 11 of my novel, The Ceremony of Death. What a way to end the year—it felt like the old self had died from me. I woke up feeling reborn. The hard lessons of the past year have passed, though I know many more will come. Still, I am proud of myself.

Last year was another year of clearing old beliefs. A year of realizing just how much power I gave to others. How much of my life I lived based on someone else’s ideas—society’s, religion’s, anyone’s but my own. It wasn’t easy to see this. My body, however, became my guide. Through subtle communication, it nudged me toward truths I hadn’t yet faced.

This past year, I was like a child rediscovering myself and my emotions. It was not easy when you grow up not being allowed to express what you feel. To cry, to be angry, to feel anything that isn’t “appropriate.” But I did it. Slowly, I let myself feel. And I made it. I really did.

One of the biggest steps I took was admitting the feeling I’ve carried for so long—that I don’t belong in Andorra. It was a hard truth to say out loud, but my husband listened. He heard me, and together we came up with a plan to explore somewhere else. Knowing that my needs are seen and supported has brought me so much relief.

I also unblocked my creativity this year. I can feel it now, flowing freely in ways I didn’t know were possible. I still have expectations, and sometimes I fail to meet them. But it doesn’t take long for me to return to creating. I’ve learned that the process—the joy and love I pour into my work—is the most rewarding part. The outcome? It matters, but not as much as the act of creating itself.

This year, I am more than ready to show myself to the world. My first novel is on its way. Good Girls Cry, Bad Girls Moan will be the open gateway for readers to get to know me. It feels like the perfect beginning for this new chapter of my life, and I am so excited to share it.

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I trust myself. I trust the process. I trust the path ahead, even if I don’t always know the way.

Here’s to a year of courage, creativity, and becoming.

Thank you

To everyone who has been a part of this journey, thank you for your patience, your kindness, and your encouragement. To those who will read my stories, thank you for trusting me with your time and attention. You remind me why I write, why I create, and why I choose to share pieces of myself.

Here’s to a new year and to all of us finding our way forward.

With love,

Lalita Janette

My husband’s birthday is right here, and it feels like the perfect moment to reflect on and share our story. It’s a journey filled with love, resilience, and growth—a testament to the magic of the Universe and the strength of two hearts committed to each other. As I look back on where we started and everything we’ve been through, I’m overwhelmed with gratitude for the life we’re building together.

On March 21, 2016, my life changed forever. I didn’t know it at the time, but that was the day the Universe answered one of my deepest wishes: to find the love of my life. It happened in the most unexpected way, in a bustling city, on an ordinary day that turned into the extraordinary.

I met my husband in Bangkok during what was supposed to be a short visit for him. But fate had other plans—what was meant to be a brief trip turned into a year-long stay. Looking back, I believe that this wasn’t just a coincidence. It was the Universe listening to the quiet wish I had whispered, a wish to find the love of my life.

When I saw him for the first time, everything changed. He wasn’t just another person in the room—he was a force of nature. His hazelnut eyes radiated kindness, his smile lit up the space, and I felt something I hadn’t felt in years: hope. In that moment, my heart whispered, “This is him.”

Over the years, our connection deepened. We laughed, traveled, and shared moments that became the foundation of our life together. Then, on October 26, 2021, he gave me the greatest surprise of all.

He planned a trip to S’agaro, Spain, and brought me to La Gavina, a historic hotel steeped in timeless elegance. I had no idea what he had planned, even when he nervously disappeared and reappeared with champagne, pretending it was a gift from the hotel. When he knelt down on one knee, my world froze. I don’t even remember the exact words he said—just the overwhelming emotion of knowing this man wanted to spend his life with me. Of course, I said “yes.” We got married on May 7, 2022.

But it wasn’t always easy, life gave us one of its hardest tests: we lost his mother. It was a devastating blow, one that broke both our hearts.

Her loss was a reminder of how fragile life can be, and it bonded us in a deeper way. We leaned on each other through the pain and came out stronger. In the moment that followed, other challenges emerged, including fractures within my own family. It was a time of uncertainty and grief, but through it all, he was my rock. He held me when I cried, stood beside me when I felt lost, and reminded me every day that we were in this together.

Those hard times didn’t break us—they made us stronger. We emerged from the pain with a renewed bond, one forged in love and resilience. This year, I took his last name, embracing the life we’ve built together.

We’re still on the journey, working toward our shared dreams. Financial stability is something we’re striving for, but he shoulders so much to make our lives work. He takes care of every detail, gives me the freedom to chase my passion as a writer, and treats me like a queen even when things aren’t easy.

What inspires me most is his unwavering dedication—to me, to us, and to our future. He’s smart, ethical, hardworking, and constantly planting seeds for the life we envision. I believe in him with all my heart. I believe in us.

So today, as I celebrate my husband’s birthday, I want to honor the incredible man he is. He’s not just my partner—he’s my anchor, my inspiration, and my greatest blessing. Here’s to him, to us, and to everything we’ll create together.

Happy Birthday, my love.

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I also wrote a song and making a music video as a gift and now you also can have a peak. Enjoy.

“Darling, don’t you know no matter how much money you have, you won’t be able to fix problems from the past?” I spoke to her.

She cried miserably as if she didn’t know this harsh truth. In fact, she didn’t. She was too young and blindly believed that if only she could make enough money, her parents would stay together. She imagined a different childhood, filled with laughter and joy. So, she decided she was going to fix it.

That girl was me, now fully grown into a woman. I have been working hard, unaware of the motivation rooted deep inside me. If it weren’t for the jet lag from a long trip between Europe and Bali under the influence of the strawberry full moon in June, I might have continued living with that belief. The full moon’s energy stirred something deep within me.

Lying in bed at night, extremely exhausted but unable to sleep, my mind wandered to my family’s problems. I thought to myself, if I had money, maybe I could have fixed it. This was not the first time I had this thought. Usually, I concluded that I had to work harder. But this time was different.

I felt her — a little girl inside of me — desperately in tears.

“Do you really believe it will bring Mom and Dad back together?” I whispered to my younger self, surprised.

Tears streamed down her face, and she screamed back at me in silent question. “Isn’t it true?”

“No, darling, it doesn’t work that way.” I was struck by how innocent she was.

She cried through me for the rest of the night, realizing that nothing could ever bring her parents back together. Every scar would remain. I embraced both of us through the night.

By sunrise, as the pain eased, a new blank space of possibility arrived. If money couldn’t fix the past, what could it be for? What could I make it mean?

Through my tears, I smiled, and in my pain, I laughed. I held myself tight, cuddling my inner child, and whispered:

“Let’s do this together for a new reason, for you and for us. We have nothing to fix anymore.”

My name is Lalita Janette, author of the non-fiction novels “Good Girls Cry, Bad Girls Moan” and “Lalita, Come Back to Me.”

First, if you are expected to hear that I gained views, followers, and be monetized. Sorry guys! for any disappointment.

Embarrass to say, my videos got hardly any views. But fear not, for I’ve journeyed far within myself, and I have insights to share.

The first few days were the toughest. Every day, I wrestled with the urge to quit. What was the point, I wondered? I don’t have big followers. Who would bother watching? However, one thing I pride myself on is my commitment. Once I decide to do something, there’s no turning back.

So, I persisted with my live sessions. Surprisingly, words flowed effortlessly, despite my initial uncertainties. I found myself immersed in the moment, even shedding tears on camera — an unexpected vulnerability.

I thought I did good! Oh God, I do. But the lack of viewers shattered my expectations. Not a single soul tuned in. It felt like a downward spiral. Why couldn’t anyone see or hear me? It dredged up memories of childhood emotional neglect, where validation was hard to come by.

Off-camera, as the poignant melody of my favorite Disney movie, Mulan, filled the room, I gazed into my reflection.

“Who is that girl I see,
Staring straight back at me?
Why is my reflection Someone I don’t know?”
(Reflection Song by Christina Aguilera)

Tears streamed down my face, aching for the love and attention I had yearned for in my youth. In that moment, I offered comfort to my inner child, acknowledging and embracing her pain.

But here’s the silver lining: I’m growing. Though I can’t alter the past or choose different parents, I can become the nurturing presence I needed back then.

So, I embraced that wounded inner child. 

“No matter no one sees you, hear you. I am here! Seeing you, hearing you. You’re worthy,” 

I whispered to her. With that reassurance, I continued my live sessions, seeking validation from within.

For 21 days straight, I persevered. Each day, I grew more comfortable, appearing unprepared, clad in pajamas, without makeup, and simply speaking from the heart. After each session, I listened to myself, offering the affirmations I craved. I even left comments on my own videos, a gesture of self-appreciation.

Though these efforts didn’t boost my follower count, they catalyzed profound personal growth. I embarked on a healing journey of self-discovery, loosening the grip of perfectionism.

On the 22nd day, I went live again, sharing my passion for writing and my journey to become a writer — not to overcome anything, but simply because it brings me joy.

I took a big step forward by creating the first video to promote my upcoming FREE biography novel, “Good Girls Cry, Bad Girls Moan,” after procrastinating for so long.

In the end, I realized that all my inner child craved was not anything external, but rather, my own acknowledgment and acceptance of her as she is. It’s also not about the numbers or seeking validation from others but embracing authenticity and finding fulfillment by staying true to oneself.

Thank you again for reading me, seeing me, and accepting me. If you like to see where my journey unfolds I invited you to sign up for my newsletter!

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See you soon! 

Lalita Janette

I’m sure you know what I mean! So to break free from this, I need to act without thinking. I am not suggesting this to anyone, really!

This idea came to me after I watched a YouTube video of a young girl, sharing how lonely she was with a big cry, no prob, no great lighting, no amazing microphone, and no makeup. Crazy, the view count was over 2 million. That video has ignited something in me and encouraged me to be me.

The flash thought came to my mind.

Let’s just film something, speak whatever, and post it as a way to unlock myself from the perfectionist loop.

So I followed the guide.

I am on my second day now and I saw a big shift in me. (Fingers crossed that I could keep doing it).

The first day I was very nervous. I did my makeup and tried to set the background and so on!

Eventually, I felt overwhelmed with fear that it would not be good enough and ended up not feeling like speaking, but I still followed through till the end. If you'd like to watch the video, it's here!

lalitajanette

A post shared by @lalitajanette

The second day! I filmed it right on my bed after waking up (of course with a little help from the filter to not feel so embarrassed). I had a microphone on but didn’t realize that I didn’t set everything up properly and did not even turn it on, so it was recorded purely with the phone mic, but it doesn’t matter. I found joy in doing it, like dumping my head out!

I think the fun comes from the fact that I didn’t expect anything from it! I even feel comfortable if no one would watch it. I experienced the freedom of just showing up and fu#king doing it for myself only.

I am going to keep doing it and see where this will lead me! So if you want to witness my journey, connect with me on Instagram and YouTube! I post my videos there.

Thank you for reading, listening, and seeing me.

I love you.

Lalita Janette

Happy New Year, my friends and family! 2024 has arrived, and I couldn't help but feel incredibly excited for the upcoming year. I'm already sensing positive vibes, and I believe great things are in store for all of us. Perhaps this optimism stems from my recent recovery from COVID-19, and the return to good health has been a significant cause for celebration.

Now, let me share a recap of the past year. I recognize that this isn't the first time I've expressed these sentiments, but I hope it will be the last.

It proved to me that the past year was the most challenging year of my life, as some of you who joined me on this journey are well aware. I encountered the toughest mental challenges, prompted by my exploration of psychedelic medicine. I warn you not to put anything in your mouth if you don’t know it well.

It served as a profound teacher, guiding me into the depths of repressed negative emotions and the darkness within the darkness. 

I confronted the harsh reality that resided deep within myself. I chose to embrace it. I gathered every broken piece of myself, accepting them as they were.

While I acknowledge that this summary is somewhat vague, I am unable to fully express the depth of my experiences in just a few words. The complete story will be revealed soon in the form of my first English novel, currently in progress (25% completion).

The challenging teacher provided a remarkable lesson for which I am now grateful. It transformed me and left a lasting impact that my mind is still catching up with.

Physically, I lost weight, not intentionally. I looked and felt much younger. I am now at the lowest weight as an adult I have ever been.

I gained a connection to my body and awareness in many ways. My body took the lead and told my head to relax.

I could feel what happened inside of me—the flow of energy—and sometimes, I even saw it move in my stomach as if I had a baby kicking my belly. It freaked me out, and I still have to wrap my head around it.

Awareness around food was one of the strong aspects that I have never had this much before. I am aware of how each food makes me feel. My body would react and not compromise.

My body rejected sugar. After a piece of cake, I would have to spend a day and night in misery. I could no longer drink coffee without being super hyper, but I don’t need it anymore. I have so much energy, and I don’t feel sleepy. I missed the taste and aroma of coffee throughout. One glass of wine is enough for a week. 

I admit that I grieved through the loss of all the experiences I used to enjoy, but eventually, I understood all the great work my body and its creator put hard effort into all of this.

As I gained so much energy, I discovered a lot of depth in my emotions—both the good and the so-called "bad" ones. This alone transformed the style of my writing. And yes, I always wished to enjoy writing without expecting it to provide something else, like money or recognition. Now I do. 

What an incredible feeling to find joy in those small moments of sitting with myself and expressing them in words. To me, this is the most rewarding and successful accomplishment, beyond anything that could manifest in the physical world.

With the change within, the external also transformed. My relationship with my husband strengthened. He has been my rock during this crazy time. We have been through it all together, and I can confidently say that without him, I could not do what I do and overcome the challenges that were in my way.

The relationship with God has transformed. He is no longer something I call out to; the yearning and longing have ended. He lives in me. I am Him, even if I might not feel that way all the time. Nothing could change or separate the living God in me.

My body taught me how to set my boundaries and speak what I need to say. It didn't let me suppress anything anymore. It awoke to claim its place after all these years when I nearly walked by head. 

Now, my heart led, my body followed, and my mind was still confused, but that was okay. It needs time to align them all together.

I sold my home in Bangkok and ended the chapter of suffering and guilt around my family members. At least it ended in my energetic field. I released myself from the social expectations and poured all my love and attention back into myself. I learned the great lesson of putting myself before any whole darn thing in the world, and that feels so good.

This was my last year! Watch me closely with all these changes within; see what my outside world will be for me this year.

I see myself celebrating a big success by the end of this new year. You are welcome to join me on my journey. I would love to have you.

Love

Lalita Janette

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When I was younger, Hollywood love was all I knew.

When I am attached to someone and fear losing the person, I called it love. When I felt inadequate and thought life must be better with a particular person, I said, “I need you.” I miss someone when I could not find happiness by myself.

It took me an age to realize those ideas painted in a Hollywood movie are not real and actually are far opposite to real love. It was a lack of love, a self-love.

However, I could not deny Hollywood love was a big part of my healing journey.

When the man went a thousand miles serving me, it healed me. Receiving the worshiping helped me remember my divine femininity.

Being seen and wanted was healing the neglected wound that was long ignored.

Even though those ideas were no longer the love I wanted to embody, I do crave it like craving sugar after a long time of withdrawal.

I want a piece of chocolate, or else the Hollywood love.

My name is Lita Jane, spreading Love, sharing Relationship tips, and sneak peeks into the Sexuality and Spiritual realm.

Consider joining full access to Medium via my referral link, that will be much appreciated.

I know it's scary. 

A few years back I heard a call to write. 

Silly it may seem, I had never written anything. 

Even a diary I could not keep up for more than three days. 

But when God whispered to my heart to write my story that happened on a hidden spiritual island, I was scared. 

Not only was the story provoking, including my personal life but also it may trigger a rejection. 

Writing has never been my competence, English is not my native language.

No success guarantee and I may only shame myself.  

Come across a failure who thought she could hear God’s voice. 

But in the end, I choose me, 

I choose that insecure lady and take on the ride for expressing all I have in words 

and giving birth to the first story.

The rest will come. 

Much Love

Lita Jane

This month has been so good to me, not that I have a huge success or earn a million dollars but I learned to appreciate my little success.

In the past, I often get discouraged so easily and have a hard time seeing what good I have done.

Despite I proud of who I am, still I always felt that I didn’t do enough. So being able to celebrate my small success was a huge success of mine.

This is what my July 2022 stats on Medium look like. It was not a huge success but if you know where I was coming from, this is considered a big step for me.

I discovered Medium in late 2018 with the full hope of finding a platform where people would care about what I have to say.

I was enthusiastic and posted a few articles kept in the darkest corner of medium newbie and never saw the light or came across anyone’s sight.

To Newbie Writers Whose Stories Were Kept in The Medium Darkest Corner
This is how I got out of a dark hole

Only in July 2022 that I started to write again wishing to share my story of how God saved me from my financial (mental) crisis with my friends who were struggling.

Rest and Let God Do the Work for Your Finances
My story will help you believe that miracles still happen every day

It was not a viral overnight kind of thing. It was just a few hundred views, claps, highlights, comments, and a few followers which were enough to make me qualified to enter the Medium partnership program.

It never happened to me before and it was enough to change my perspective on a Medium.

The light of hope was ignited in my heart once again like reuniting with an old lover. I then wrote some more, 7 articles in total, two above and another 5 below.

I Earned Yearly Income Within Three Weeks of Serving God
Here is how it happened and step by step of what I did

If Paying High Taxes is No Longer an Option But Your Economic is Not as Wealthy One Just Yet.
Here is why we choose to reside in Andorra (a country).

Finally, We Met Face to Face, the Omicron
Story of two overcoming a rumor around this tiny virus

How a Beginner Writer Like Me Got Published in a Big Publication
A story of a little effort and a bigger miracle

I also created a publication Dream Maker to document my journey, sharing my experiences, thoughts, and feelings toward making my dream come true so one day you would say if she can do it I can do it too.

I Am Going To Document My Journey of Making My Dream Come True
This is why Dream Maker Publication is created

So now you know why I am so holy happy despite how small success I earn here. The most special thing that made my heart sing in all spectrums of the rainbow was the little feedback on how my stories made other people feel.

Thank you so much for your kind words, it is a fuel that fired my soul and helped me remember a long-forgotten dream. I am so grateful.

Let us all celebrate ourself doesn’t matter how big or small we have done or what we have not done yet. We are perfect as who we are.

My name is Lita Jane. I am sharing inspirational stories serving Love, Hope, and Faith, Currently developing a course to help independent women to be successful in love. Signing up for my newsletter, Lita Jane to hear more, and inviting me for a coffee would be nice.

My love, thank you for reading me and supporting me all along.

Recently I feel so energized with a flow of creativity. I reunited with a platform Medium.

If you never heard of Medium before, it is where you can publish any writing and get paid for like a Youtube of texts.

I started to write there again after a long break up with Medium.

(Full story is in the article To Newbie Writers Whose Stories Were Kept in The Medium Darkest Corner, This is how I got out of a dark hole)

My first article after a long break “Rest and Let God Do the Work for Your Finances” got some beautiful feedback that made me feel another hope of a dream maker again.

I gain some followers and a lot of fun so I continue writing some more,

I Earned Yearly Income Within Three Weeks of Serving God
Here is how it happened and step by step of what I did

and more

If Paying High Taxes is No Longer an Option But Your Economic is Not as Wealthy One Just Yet
Here is why we choose to reside in Andorra (a country)

and more

Finally, We Met Face to Face, the Omicron
Story of two overcoming a rumor around this tiny virus

oh not finished yet

How a Beginner Writer Like Me Got Published in a Big Publication
A story of a little effort and a bigger miracle

You may see how much fun I have had so far …

but it is not all!

I also created a list on the top “Dare to Dream” (On the top heading section) to document my experience, thoughts and feeling on the journey of making my dream come true.

I find what inspired us, humans most are not the know-how of how to achieve whatever we desire in life but the real-life story of the person who never gives up on their dream.

I believe we can learn so much from other life stories and here I began . . .

My dream is dynamic, changing at times. At the current moment and time, I dream that my stories will touch many people’s hearts and create a positive impact on their life. I wish when people hear my name they feel hope for their future.

I do not know what will lay ahead but I want to live every second of my life with purpose.

You are welcome to be part of the journey.

Before I go, I have a song for you. This song shakes my soul, initiating tears of fire in me every time I hear it. Now I pass it on to you. Enjoy

The fools who dream, from Lala Land

Here’s to the ones who dream
Foolish as they may seem
Here’s to the hearts that ache
Here’s to the mess we make

She told me
“A bit of madness is key
To give us new colors to see
Who knows where it will lead us?
And that’s why they need us”

I am grateful that person is my hubby! 

This morning I checked my email and found that someone has subscribed to my newsletter! Woohoo!

You have no idea how happy I am when I see an email like this! 

Thank you all for spending time with me, feeling me, and hearing me. 

I love you. Load of it!

So I shared the news with my hubby. He is a master of encouraging.

The short, sweet conversation went like this! 

Me: Oh my dear, I got someone to subscribe to my Newsletter!

My Hubby: For now it is free right? What a lucky person!

He simply twisted the reality from someone giving me attention to someone who will receive a load of greatness from me. 

Love him to the moon!

and

Love you on the way back!

Lita Jane

How My Belief Around Money Was Programmed

When I was young, my dad taught me a financial lesson that money does not grow from trees, and if I want something, I need to work for it. Not only did he teach me by words but also assigned me a household duty trading with a weekly allowance.

It sounded like a great lesson for a child and it should not be any harmful, wasn’t it?

If I did a job I would earn a decent amount, enough for me to spend and save for what I wish. In other ways, if I ignored to do a chore I would be sure not to receive any cent. Household duty was not a difficult task but for a child sometimes it was and I hated it.

Some weeks I was not motivated and missed that weekly allowance. You can imagine how horrible it would be the consequences of not having money.

I learned fast at an early age that I must work even if I hated it otherwise I would be sure to suffer. That statement was rooted in my subconscious deeply.

When I entered adulthood, I got a good job that provided me with a decent income. Thank you my dad for his teaching. It worked. I was a financially stable person.

The Fear of Money Came to the Surface

Little did I know that my motivation behind making money was fear, fear of not having. Looking back I didn’t like my job that much but that was a life I thought everyone had to endure. As long as I work I felt secure but the test has come.

A few years back I hit a rock bottom in my life, heartbroken, lost the sense of who I was, and had no motivation to continue to work. I decided to quit my job. That was when I recognized a tremendous unreasonable fear of mine. It was silly as I have still savings from 15 years of work but that was a great chance to revisit my belief about money and those memories of my childhood.

I Chose to Rest in God

When I realized what the root cause of my fear was, I didn’t know how to overcome it so I did the greatest act of a hopeless.

I prayed.

In the middle of my confusion, God came and rescued me. Sometimes it needed that low-life bottom to surrender to the greater of the greater. In God’s comfort, I heard the promises. It came in all different ways and different forms, like one of this bible verse, Matthew 6:25–34 of God’s comfort

Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?” Matthew 6:26.

I read and cried over the verse over and over feeling like a bird finally find its nest. I heard the promising and the whisper of wisdom…

“Rest as long as you need. I will take care. Serve fear no more… serve me, I am love.”

I took a big leap of faith to rest which might be the easiest thing for many people but for someone who never stop working in the last decade it was the most difficult to stop worrying about tomorrow.

Miracles Did Happen

Miracles happened from small little things to big things. I earned money equivalent to one year of work from my long-time investment, which miraculously happened to be double in value. I knew it was an answer to my prayer and the faith I hold on to. I deserved it.

That little child in me got prompted by love and learning a new belief about money. She knew how worthy she is and she doesn’t need to fight or work for everything that she want. She can rest and life will provide.

These days, this fear is still active in me but much more on a subtle level. God reminded me that I am worthy and life is full of miracles. Rest and trust and do the work I am here for … the work I love.

Let me assure you that God’s love is equivalent to everyone and I nor a favored. Miracles happen to everyone at any time.

It is God’s nature to share the love with us.

We all deserve it.

If you are one like me who struggles with trying to make a financial living. Take a moment to breathe, have faith and pray. You shall receive. Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. (Matthew 6:34)

Thank you for connecting with me. My name is Lita Jane. I am writing a hopeful story bringing you back to love, hope, and faith. Continue our relationship further by signing up for my newsletter, Lita Jane.

Lita Jane Love Letter

A happy wife, A dream maker, and more. Sharing authentic love stories, to bring back your faith, have hope for your future, and find your true love.

I am from Thailand. My husband is from France. We currently live in Andorra. 

You may wonder where is it, Andorra?

Is it in Africa?

No! that is Angola!

To help ease your curiosity,

I am going to tell you where is Andorra and why we choose Andorra for our economic activity base.

Perhaps you will start packing your bag and become our neighbor. 

The Motivation of Moving the Country.

Before I am telling you about Andorra I like to tell you a bit about our background and why we wanted to move?

It was for a long time Charlie, my husband realized that even though he was born in France he did not belong there. 

He hates and nearly disgusts how and what French has become.

He didn’t see himself as French, except for fine wine and a sophisticated way of living

The main reason that drove him insane in his motherland was a political problem, especially tax unfriendliness.

Ridiculous enough that people started to be unfriendly as so the tax system.

He decided to take his life in his fortune and stopped feeling like a victim in his own country that was when the search started.

Where would be a good place to root? within the reach of his economy? where the tax system allowed him to breathe and people are kind.

Moreover the possibility to grow a property's portfolio. 

For me, who loves my country, Thailand, and knows too little about what politics is and also, never even look at how much I have been paid tax as a character of money avoidance.

I just enjoyed learning new things and exploring my options!

So two individuals with different motivations were on the hunt for the country we may live in!

Where is Andorra located?

Many people asked me what country is it Andorra located in?

First, you need to know that Andorra is not a city.

It is a COUNTRY located in Europe but not parts of the European Union similar to Swisserland, Monaco, Montenegro, Croatia, and many more.

It is a tiny country in the Pyrenees mountain.

You can drive relaxing from one end to another end of the country while admiring beauty, and taking in the fresh air.

Still, only take you two hours. 

I can not state enough how tiny it is, 468 km² to be exact, about half the size of Singapore.

If you open Google Maps and look closely at the border between France and Spain you won’t see Andorra yet.

But if you zoom in about 5 times or maybe 10 times then you started to see a little dot name Andorra. 

So there you got it!

Congratulation!

You have found a country that few people know about.

Benefits of Reside in Andorra

What makes Andorra interested is not the size or the rareness of not being known.

It is the political and tax system.

Yes, a friendly taxes system.

We have studied a term and conditions of all the tax heaven destinations like Monaco, Hongkong, Panama, and so on where they charge very little tax or zero taxes. 

We have visited some that intrigue us like Vanuatu (Another country you may hear about for the first time.)

Vanuatu is zero tax country but we understood why once we explored more.

Because most people nearly make no money.

There is not much economic activity going on including all the infrastructure like roads and hospitals.

If you need medical treatment, you will need the assistance of a helicopter to fly you to a country nearby like New Caledonia, or Australia.

Let alone, the property for sale takes year and year to find some random people who will be interested in buying. 

But Vanuatu has something else to offer but let left Vanuatu there for now and come back to it another time. 

But when we found Andorra, something clicked!

Andorra is not exactly a tax-heaven country. They have reasonable taxes in place.

• Maximum is 10% of yearly income. 

• For income under €24,000 a year, you apply zero tax, still receiving all social benefits similar to people who pay taxes.

  For example, school and hospitality are free for anyone.

  Most people who work for hours rate may fall into this racket.

  It is very generous of the country to care for their people.

• From €24,000 up to €42,000 a year, you are subjected to a 5% tax

• And 10% tax for anything above, of course with stair step.

• No wealth tax, no heritage tax, and so on … and house taxes are dead cheap. 

Compare to France that even collect a television tax, Andorra is a haven.

Yes if you have a television you need to pay a tax to watch your show.

Ridiculous! We should be paid to be brainwashed.

How to claim an Andorra residency

There are two ways not including a residency by marriage.

With only 70,000 people residing with an average age of 40 years old, it is quite tough to find a decent person to marry so I won’t talk about this unless cupid has made the plan for you.

First, Passive Residency

This is how we became residents here, by investing all in all around €400,000 in property or funds.

Compared to Monaco which requires at least €1 million plus many more, it is affordable.

Second, Active Residency

If money is a concern you may like to hear this option, active residency.

As long as you have an idea of making money through whatever project outside Andorra.

You can propose a business plan and obtain your residency and enjoy tax benefits.

Great opportunity for no mad and online entrepreneurs!

Take a Moment to Think?

You may think what a person we are? talking about no taxes and bra bra bra like we don’t like to contribute to a society where we were raised.

Don’t get us wrong… We have paid enough.

Charlie had given 30% and more of everything his family own to the government before he left.

I paid 30% of my income for a decade to my country and I am proud of it.

I am grateful for my motherland and Thailand always be my home.

Choosing Andorra for economic activity has nothing to do with being grateful or not. We considered it a wise investment.

Paying tax to whatever country is like investing in stock, you better not invest in a country that is not sustainable and not managing their resource to its fruitful.

I believed when we have awareness of what going on with our country doesn’t matter if we agree or like it or not.

We believe focusing on the problem where it was, complaining about it, or trying to fix it won’t have a significant impact compared to focusing on changing ourselves accordingly to our values and what we believe in.

Our micro-actions and movement focusing on ourselves will bring evolution to those problems we may concern about.

Andorra is More Than Just Taxes.

It was taxes that got us at first grant but after living here for one year.

I found tax friendly system was just a compliment to other good things Andorra has to offer. I will come to that topic next time.

Please let me know what else you may like me to include in the next article in the comment. I will be appreciated it.

To be continued…

For now, just know that I love you.

My name is Lita Jane. I am sharing stories, to bring back your faith, have hope for your future, and find your true love.

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Lita Jane Love Letter

A happy wife, A dream maker, and more. Sharing authentic love stories, to bring back your faith, have hope for your future, and find your true love.

Hi Love, I hope you are doing well!

We were back in Andorra safely a while ago,

so I want to say hello and let you know what is happening right now.

Looking For a Place to Live

We are constantly looking for a new apartment to rent or buy whatever is possible for us.

It shouldn’t be such a mission, should it?

but IT IS!

As little people know about Andorra, the property market is Fu*k hell on a heat!

(Andorra is a country! in Europe but not European Union. I know you race your eyebrow what the heck is this country?)

I am not joking, so we didn’t have anything promising yet at this point.

It is a challenging market for properties indeed.

Problem or Opportunity?

On one hand, it is real competition for a tenant and buyer but on another hand, it is such a great opportunity for investors and developers.

As I complained about it, I felt more confident in the decision to make Andorra our home and our economic activities.

The idea of the New Project

My husband and I are thinking and acting seriously about becoming a developer ourselves. It is such an exciting yet intermediate idea we had.

We went to see a potential plot of land which made me dream about it and think I should document our journey of becoming wealthy and living fulfilling lives (one day).

Follow a Desire

Well, that is a secret wish of mine for a long time that is hard to admit and even how many times trying to suppress it. It doesn’t seem to go away.

It is time to accept a challenge.

I desire to be rich.

I mean really rich …

It is not about the number but has to be big enough that could unlock the possibility to access any experiences available on earth.

It is also not about happiness either. It is about evolving through my desires.

Will we make it or not?

or this desire will teach us another deeper meaning of life?

Let’s see

My name is Lita Jane

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Lita Jane Love Letter

A happy wife, A dream maker, and more. Sharing authentic love stories, to bring back your faith, have hope for your future, and find your true love.

During this Thailand trip, I got many triggered and perceived as being rejected and even my head could analyze and understand that that was not true but I couldn’t help I feel.

I feel rejected by my beloved island which used to show me all her magic. I got stood up two times in a row. I could see clearly that there is nothing to do with me personally but that wound got hurt.

Oh God, the shit show written by the mind, playing by me, no stunt, and I got hurt.

My mind became irrational and also introduce the idea that my work is shit as well. How that could be related?

I just forgot all those people who reach out and said they love it, It helped them. I even have followers who see me as the inspiration that now I am so afraid to fail their expectations.

Because I have my problem and illusion like others. I might not be the person they think I am. Especially when I drown under the storm of being rejected illusion, and all I could express is my raw feeling, not any wisdom.

And sometimes I don’t know how to finish my message because I just don’t know. Maybe if I could say something like I spent time to craft my work like I usually do. I would say if you feel rejected, you are not alone. I am here feeling all that pain like you do! It shall pass. Shit that is life!