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Pardon my French

Speaking a few languages, gives you this wonderful possibility to have more than one identity.

Languages of the soul

With their upbringing methods, my parents gave me a lot of precious gifts. One of them is openness to various cultures and differences. I sometimes think my mom and dad wish I didn't become this open but I am immensely grateful they couldn't stop the process they themselves initiated.


One of the ways they unlocked my worldview was by putting a 13 year old me in a British school in Poland - an enterprise attended by kids of diplomats, business expats, etc. Thanks to this I could experience in my rather homogeneous country at the time, that differences are ok, they are natural, they make judgements sound really stupid. It also allowed me to soak in the English language spoken by people of many nationalities, used for communication, not for impressing with the form. As I then used English in my university days, it has become the catalyst of my emotional biggest step stones, means for expressing my sometimes still naive, never to be fully mature soul.


Accepting the imperfect

Perhaps this was one of the main reasons I decided to write this blog in English. I do apologise for all the imperfections of a not native speaker - but what comes with maturity is the lovely "I don't give a fuck" about imperfections and what others make of them.


I so badly wish I could go back in time and teach this obvious truth to my younger self. With this being impossible, I do hope I can make #myboy a bit less vulnerable. I also try to tell it as convincingly as I am capable, to all younger people I meet on my way. Guys, you will see, you shouldn't have cared, you shouldn't have let it block you, it is an awful waste of energy and makes absolutely no sense. People will always point out your mistakes, and sometimes it is a wonderful lesson - a lot of the time however, it reveals their problems, not yours.


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