A Year Of Disconnecting
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[16 March 2025]
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It’s hard to believe that almost exactly a year has passed since I booked my flight from Berlin to Toronto. It must have been March 17 or 18—a day or two after I moved out of my apartment in Neukölln. I packed up everything I hadn’t sold and didn’t want to take with me to Canada (which, miraculously, fit into the Mercedes AMG E-Class I got from the rental company because the station wagon I had reserved wasn’t available) and drove it to my mom’s house.
At the time, her internet connection had been cut before a new one was installed. So, I went to Café BarCelona in Osnabrück, found a quiet corner, and booked a one-way ticket.
If someone had told me then that I’d be back in Berlin not even four months later, I wouldn’t have believed them. I’ve had a complicated relationship with Germany and its mentality, and even Berlin, my non-German refuge within Germany, had started to lose its appeal. I was ready to leave for a year, maybe longer.
Now, I’m sitting in the C/O Café at Bahnhof Zoo on a sunny, early-spring afternoon. Its large windows and the aviaries at Kranzler Eck just a few minutes away have been attracting me regularly lately. Somewhat sleepy, I’m reflecting on the past year and feel at peace.
I woke up early today. Too early to get the eight hours of sleep I aim for. I don’t know the exact time, but by the time I got out of bed and went for a walking meditation, it was 6:40 AM. I probably laid there for an hour before that—half annoyed that I didn’t get enough sleep, half enjoying the comfort of my weighted blanket.
For the past week or two, I’ve felt tense. Two reasons: I started a new job last month, which meant a drastic shift in my daily routines. And the deadline I set for 40 Nights in Toronto was approaching.
Back in September, when I had a clear vision of how I wanted the album to sound and look, I mapped out a timeline. I factored in buffer time (life always happens) and decided my birthday would be a reasonable deadline.
Birthdays have always felt strange to me. I understand celebrating milestones, but I’ve never seen a reason to celebrate my existence on one particular day. Isn’t it something worth celebrating every single day?
When I was younger, I felt uncomfortable with people I wasn’t close to suddenly being friendly, wishing me a happy birthday. Over the years, it became less and less important. Last year, I had in mind to book my flight to Toronto on my birthday to avoid any pressure to celebrate, but visa delays got in the way. This year, finishing 40 Nights in Toronto would give me something special to celebrate.
During the creation process, I built what feels like a new life. I acted on ideas I had ignored for years—out of fear. Fear of what? I’m not entirely sure. But I think it has to do with a contradiction I’ve carried for a long time: a desire (or natural tendency?) to do things my own way while also fearing that I’d be too different. That I’d be judged for it.
It took me a long time to realize: It’s okay to do things my way. It’s okay to live in my own world. And this world we live in—hyperconnected, overstimulated—isn’t for me. The überfluss of exterior input pulls us away from ourselves. It makes it harder to recognize what we truly need.
So, what’s the solution? Disconnect. Intentionally. Without fear of judgment.
For years, I only knew what I didn’t want. I thought that was enough. But I’ve realized that living life by elimination leads to dissatisfaction. Embracing solitude changed that. It gave me the clarity to see what I actually want and what’s good for me—free from external pressure and expectations.
Disconnecting and being alone isn’t about isolation. It’s about recharging. Processing. Finding inner peace.
While I’ve been by myself, I’ve been thinking about (re)defining success. I realized it’s not about achieving any particular outcome, but about doing every day and every week what I truly want to do, and being how I want to be. The outcome will follow naturally—and maybe it isn’t even that important after all.
In moments of stillness, like this afternoon—standing in front of the aviary, the early-March sun glancing between the glass office buildings, barely anyone passing by, watching two eastern rosellas hopping on the floor, searching for seeds, I feel it—I’m living life my way.
Imagine a world where we’re all at peace with ourselves. Free from external pressure. Free from the constant pull of hyperconnectivity.
Wouldn’t that be something?
Enjoy your day (or night).
glg Soda Paapi
PS: If you have any feedback, I’m curious to hear it!