an introduction to my story
We aren’t shaped by what breaks us, but by how we choose to rebuild.
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A blank screen and a man ready to bare his soul.
This is where my story begins.
Welcome to my life—a journey through a rough childhood, a battered adulthood, and a redemption found in the darkest of places.
I won't be your hero nor your villain.
Instead, I'll be the man who stumbles, trips, but always gets back up.
The Beginning
Life’s a madhouse. Everyone’s got a story.
We all march forward, squinting at the sun, while the shadows we drag grow longer. But what happens when they stop following, and start swallowing? Drowning you, suffocating you, burying you deep under piles of everything you never wanted to admit was true?
There’s only one way out: face it.
No shortcuts.
No skipping chapters.
This is my story—one of survival, grit, and finding something like hope when everything said give up.
I was born in the heart of a city that never sleeps, in a neighborhood where dreams often crumbled under the weight of reality.
As a kid, I faced my own monsters. They weren't lurking under my bed or hiding in my closet; they were sitting right there at the dinner table, sipping on beer.
My home was anything but a safe place—it was filled with endless arguments and fights. Every raised voice and hand left a lasting mark on my psyche.
Growing up, I was surrounded by the bold colors of street art and the ongoing threats of drug-related violence.
This shaped how I saw the world and life itself.
My childhood innocence was overshadowed by the tough reality of the streets, cluttered with discarded needles, condoms, and bullet shells.
I grew up in a world where money was always tight, and emotional support was scarce. Trusting someone was a luxury I couldn't afford.
Loneliness turned into my loyal friend, keeping me company as I braved each day.
The Battlefields Of My Youth
School should have been my sanctuary, but it was a battlefield, a daily fight for survival. There, I was not the smartest, nor the strongest.
I was the short, skinny, quiet kid, the easy target.
Taunting words and thrown fists were my constant companions, their razor-sharp edges slicing through my self-esteem.
They called me weak.
Told me I would always be a loser.
And like a seed sown deep within, I began to believe them.
In the not-so-quaint biography of my life, I found myself at odds with a cruel paradox of existence: my pain was the protagonist and I was the spectator.
In the mighty words of Jung…
“Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate.”
My fate, it seemed, was to play a lonely man, marooned on an island of perpetual pain.
The quiet emptiness of a shattered home carved deep into my memory.
Bullies were outside, chaos was inside.
Screaming, slamming doors, empty bottles clinking—this was my life’s soundtrack. Add in the constant stress of bills piling up, and you've got the perfect storm.
And in all that chaos, I was lost. This was my reality.
Yet, I always dreamed of a different life, a life adorned with peace, acceptance, and belonging. This was my aspiration. It was in this chasm between my reality and aspirations where my life took a detour.
As Leon Festinger, an expert in human discomfort would argue, it was cognitive dissonance at play. But in my layman's language, I was neck-deep in life's muddy waters, and I didn't like the taste of it one bit.
As I dealt with the truths of my world, I found a lifeline—the world of art and nature.
Seeing a wall covered in graffiti sparked my creativity, while the few trees that managed to grow in the city became symbols of strength.
Within the chaos, I found comfort and a sense of direction in these places; they became my safe haven.
Stepping Into Adulthood
My life was wreck.
Everything safe, solid—gone by my thirties. It wasn’t just a storm anymore, but a tornado. One hit, and my whole world was obliterated.
My marriage—poof.
The one thing I thought I built right was erased. Just like that.
The divorce threw me into a wild, messy chaos.
Fake love.
Deceit. And Lies.
I was sucked into the orbit of a woman who said all the right things.
She made me her center.
Her gravity.
She had me wrapped so tight, I didn’t even notice she was destroying me. Secretly ruining my reputation with family and friends—cutting me off to make sure she was all I had.
Leaving me isolated.
I believed her every word. Looking back now, I feel like a fool.
As my good name faded, a much harsher truth emerged. Those sly messages, hushed phone calls, her sneaky lies. The cheating. It all came crashing down.
The moment I saw it, it felt like my heart had been torn out.
There it was—my reality, laid bare.
In the end, I was left alone, again. Drifting through the bitterness, haunted by her twisted games. My only company being the solitude of my car.
The wakeup call was anything but quiet.
It was brutal.
It hit me like a loud thunderclap, impossible to ignore.
Divorced. Betrayed. Broke. Homeless.
Pain wasn't just a constant hum in the background of my life anymore; it turned into a blazing fire, surrounding me with its relentless heat. Consuming me.
Choosing Transformation
Morning crept in, sharp and cold, holding up a mirror I didn’t want to face. But there it was, glaring back at me: the time for change was now.
The sun sliced through the night, blinding and unapologetic.
Change wasn’t just needed.
It was screaming at me.
I was on the edge—no, teetering—about to fall into something new, something raw, something that wasn’t what I’d been before.
As I gazed upon the broken pieces of my life scattered like shards of glass, I saw the reflection of a man, lost and homeless, but still not gone.
And in that mess was a flicker. Not some grand stage light—just a flicker.
One of hope, maybe.
I started to get it.
All the chaos, the pain—it wasn’t here to crush me.
I began to realize that the trials and tribulations life had thrown my way were not meant to break me, but to shape me, to mold me into the person I was destined to become.
A whole new version.
And that meant I couldn’t look outward for some fix or distraction.
The only place left to run was inside.
Me vs. me.
Sharing My Story Through Social Media
At first, social media became my confessional. A stage where I aired out my messy thoughts, fears, dreams—everything.
I wasn’t just posting; I was creating.
An artist with pixels instead of paint. Each video was a raw, unpolished truth. Every caption was a little splash of my soul.
It wasn’t just a hobby.
It became my launchpad. My medium for expression. And, ultimately, my catalyst for transformation.
Carl Rogers once said
“What is most personal is most universal”
And guess what?—He wasn’t wrong.
My pain, suddenly it wasn’t just mine. It started to hit home for others, linking us all through the universal language of struggle and growth.
TikTok became my megaphone. My stage.
I bared my wounds to a world I couldn’t even see.
And it felt good. Cathartic, even.
Each clip I posted, each piece of me I shared, lightened the load. Weird, right? Like standing in the middle of chaos but finding a perplexing sense of calm in the middle of it all.
But it was never about going viral.
It was bigger than that. It was about finding a tribe.
About knowing someone, somewhere got it.
The real magic was the community. Those comments that told me I wasn’t alone. It was a loop of healing, bouncing between me and them. Each comment acted as a reminder that my experiences, however painful, had the power to touch and possibly heal others.
Seeking Solace In Nature
Nature didn’t just show up—it called me.
In all the chaos, it became my quiet anchor.
No matter how messy life got, it was always there, solid and still.
Each hike was an escape. A reset button.
I’d find myself listening, really listening, to the trees leaves rustling secrets, the twigs crunching beneath my boots, and the birds gossiping somewhere in the distance.
It was like nature had its own language, and somehow, it got me. Wrapped me up in its arms without saying a word.
That first breath of damp earth after the rain—Magic.
The sunlight streaming through branches like it was trying to find me—Perfect.
And that breeze was just enough to remind me I was still here—Still standing.
I started to see beauty in the small stuff.
Not just in the “wow” of mountains or oceans, but in a single wildflower pushing up through dirt. In the brief song of a bird nearby. In the softest touch of wind on my cheek.
It wasn’t just nature.
It was something else, something deeper.
A place that didn’t ask for anything.
Just let me be.
Journey Into Shadow Work
At the same time, I set off on this wild trek of self-discovery.
No map. No compass.
Just me, wandering through the chaos of my own mind.
Every step forward felt like tiptoeing into an abyss. What was lurking in there? I wasn’t sure. But the deeper I went, the clearer it became: these forgotten corners held truths I’d been avoiding forever.
Enter shadow work.
Yeah, Carl Jung—Swiss shrink, deep thinker—basically tossed me a flashlight and said, "Go." Into the dark, into the mess. "Why have I shoved these parts of me so far down?" I’d ask myself as I trudged through the muck of my own psyche.
It wasn’t a casual walk.
Shadow work meant diving headfirst into the parts of my subconscious that I’d locked away.
The fears—Oh yeah, they were there. The doubts showed up in full force. The buried emotions were heavier than I thought.
But instead of running, I sat with them.
Let them press down on me.
I asked myself, "Where did this all start?" as old scars I’d long hidden away surfaced, layer by uncomfortable layer.
The trick with shadow work is that you don’t shine a light just to freak out and shut it all down. Nah, you have to drag those forgotten bits into view and sit with them.
No judgment. No pushing them away.
"Am I really ready to accept the stuff I’ve spent years pretending doesn’t exist?"
That’s what I kept wondering.
But slowly, it hit me: the darker parts, the messy, complicated bits are part of the whole package.
Not something to fear. Just a balance.
The weirdest part—Once I stopped running from it, I found this odd calm.
Like, the stuff I’d been hiding was always there, just waiting for me to acknowledge it.
And finally, I did.
Embracing The New Narrative
The road was rough. But man, it changed me.
Every step, I found fragments of myself scattered in the chaos.
I didn’t run from them.
I leaned into the mess, faced my baggage head-on, and started writing a new story. One where I wasn’t some helpless victim but a damn survivor.
The shadows, they’re still there.
Lurking.
But I learned to dance with them, let their darkness amplify my glow.
And let’s get real—this wasn’t some neat, straight line of progress.
Nope.
I hit plenty of bumps, highs mixed with deep, gut-wrenching lows.
Some days, I stumbled hard, almost falling back into the trap of my past. But I always got back up. That’s the thing about progress—it’s not about racing to the finish. It’s about making sure you’re headed in the right direction.
And as long as I kept moving, I knew I was good.
Over time, I started to see the scars for what they really were: proof.
Not just of pain, but of survival.
They weren’t marks of defeat; they were my badges of honor.
The taunts, the sneers, the junk that once tore me down became the fire that built me up. The taunts that had once eroded my self-esteem had become fuel for my resilience. That crime-ridden neighborhood wasn’t a prison anymore. It was the gritty backdrop of my story, proof that I made it out.
I learned that it's not the crap life throws at you that defines who you are—it's what you do with it. You can let your past chain you down or let it launch you forward.
It’s all in how you see it.
So, here I am. Not shaped by my past but busy designing my future.
My Intention
As I share my story, I'm not looking for sympathy or admiration.
Nope.
I’m sharing this to spark something—maybe a little hope, a pinch of strength.
To let you know, even when life gets pitch-black, there’s always a flicker of light hiding somewhere, waiting for you. You’re tougher than the mess behind you, braver than whatever freaks you out, and way more resilient than you give yourself credit for.
Every life is a story made up of moments of joy and sadness, love and loss, bravery and fear. My story is just one part of this grand saga, showing the strength of the human spirit. A reminder that we're shaped not by our past but by the decisions we make now.
The road ahead may still be fraught with challenges.
Bumps, potholes, maybe some cliffs.
But I am prepared.
I am a soldier, armed with the wisdom of my experiences and the courage of my spirit. I’ve mastered the art of finding beauty in the wreckage, hope in the ruins, and power in my own vulnerability.
And so, the story continues.
Each day, a new page is turned, a new chapter begins.
The scars of yesterday are still there.
But they’re soft now.
Gentle reminders of fights I didn’t lose, not weights dragging me down.
My past doesn’t own me anymore. It no longer defines me.
It’s just one piece of the puzzle. A part of my evolution—a journey that’s still unfolding.
My Invitation to YOU
Every scar, every uphill battle, every gut-punch moment has carved me into who I am now. And honestly—I'm damn proud of these marks!
They're proof of survival.
But hey, I’m not alone in this, my story is not unique. Millions of others wear their own versions of these badges.
However, the real power isn’t in just surviving. It’s in flipping the script—taking the pain, the fear, and turning it into fuel.
And that power is yours to wield.
So, no, my story doesn’t end here.
Actually, the wildest parts haven’t even been written yet.
And you’ve got a front-row seat.
You get to dive deep into the nitty-gritty of my story—raw, real, still evolving.
By subscribing to my newsletter, Healing Thoughts, you're not just signing up for regular updates. No, you’re stepping into a circle of tough, resilient souls, all carving their own paths toward self-discovery, just like you.
Each newsletter is packed with hard-hitting truths from my struggle, my wins, and the gritty shadow work that keeps me grounded.
Healing Thoughts isn’t just words.
It’s a toolkit.
You’ll find prompts that make you pause and think, exercises that dig deep, and reflections from my own journey. All carefully crafted to stir something in you, spark growth, and nudge you toward healing.
And listen, in this sea of subscribers, you matter.
Your story, your setbacks, your wins—they matter.
Together, we’ll wade through the messy waters of our pasts, find our footing in the now, and sail toward something better. Something brighter.
—Ryan Puusaari
P.S. Your time and engagement with this edition mean a lot. Every reader adds value to our journey together. Thank you for being here!
P.P.S. "Scars aren’t reminders of what broke you—they’re proof you fought, fell, and still wrote the next chapter."
Healing Thoughts — A Journey of Reflection, Poetry, and Healing, Made Possible by You
Healing Thoughts isn’t just another book—it’s a living, breathing collection of reflections, inspiring quotes, and poetry, all pulled from the heart of this community.
Through the highs and lows, the moments of growth and vulnerability, your support made this book a reality.
Each page is a step toward healing, filled with wisdom, introspection, and emotional insight to guide you on your personal journey.
This book is more than just words—it’s our story.
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