Hey you!

I’m still in a hermit mode cooking what’s next. I have changed, Secret Club is changing, and I bet you’re changing too.

This edition is a wrap up and a preparation for what’s coming. Feel free to comment any questions. This is not a farewell, but I’m saying goodbye to some parts of myself.

Love You, Secret Club

I was journaling in the morning with a Secret Club pen, and it almost made me cry. What a journey it has been.

Secret Club was my boldest move when I was struggling with loneliness. Before our first meet-up—almost four years ago!—, I was desperate to make friends and had put myself into situations that defied all my social limits. Nothing worked, but thank Goddess you came to that first cafe meeting. Since 2022, it has been so much easier to make friends—not only for me, but for hundreds of women in Helsinki who joined us.

My only goal was to meet like-minded women, and Secret Club gave me so much more than that. From being recognized in the media and invited to talk at different events, to meeting great people and having over a hundred paid members who trusted me and wanted to become part of what I created. And I did this in my second language, in a country where I didn’t know the rules. My mom is proud.

Helsingin Sanomat 🗞️ Yle

you have to trust

I was lucky enough to meet the most incredible people—you included, don’t get shy now. Besides that, somewhere between the workshops, coffee dates, tarot readings, and existential conversations, I fell back in love with writing.

Writing is one of the few things that gives me energy instead of taking it away. It heals where it hurts. Every essay leaves me feeling more like myself. The more I write, the more I want to improve my craft and create things I'm genuinely excited to share with you.

And I am not the only one. I have seen many of you becoming artists, healers, mothers, friends, more independent, happier, bolder, badass women I admire.

this is very important

The Secret to Belong

I had a good cry, and now it’s time to turn the page. But first, it’s my duty to share what I learned about community and belonging.

I have been to over a hundred meet-ups—I met dozens of women, we chit-chatted, added each other on Instagram, had long conversations. They came to the Secret Club to meet new people and make friends. Some found their ride-or-dies, others show up and never made friends or felt they belong. Why is that?

Community became a buzz word, and we started using it as a synonym for group or audience. Influencers started calling their followers their community. Companies are creating communities too. It’s not that simple, though. When people are gathered, it’s a group, but not every group is a community. Yes, I said it.

A community has three non-negotiable ingredients: a shared identity, an emotional bond, and collaboration.

Shared identity—When I say we’re like-minded women, it’s because you’re reading our newsletter and connecting the womanhood vs. anti-patriarchal ideas I share. That’s our culture, and it gives us a sense of cohesion. Our identity is always being co-created, evolving with each member that voice over. It gives us a sense of ownership—you’ll call it “my community”.

Emotional bond—That’s why your classmates or colleagues don’t necessarily feel like a group you want to belong to. In a community, people are not only open minded, but also have their hearts open to connect in an emotional level. For me, I love Secret Club.

Collaboration—This is the trickiest part. Community requires active engagement and co-creation from its members. If you’re always making plans, and your friends just have to show up, you’re convenient, like a service. To make a group of friends a community, you need mutual effort to seal the bond. This is valid for all kinds of relationships.

This is also how people find their ride-or-dies. Members who organized a meet-up, hosted a picnic, or started a gathering are the ones feeling the most connected. By contributing something of their own, they become part of the fabric of the community.

And that’s the realization that changed how I think about Secret Club.

i finally found the missing part I was looking for

I was looking for community and accidentally built a hobbies-and-events service. We had the most fun and creative events, though.

What I didn’t realize is that community isn’t something a single person can manufacture. I can set the table, send the invitations, and start the conversation. But community only emerges when everyone starts bringing something of their own.

This is the most precious thing we have within Secret Club 🫧

Community is a consequence of having our brains interested in the same things and curious about each other. After all, connection is about sharing energy, thoughts, time, emotions, secrets, and all things that matter to us. It’s a gift we give and take.

That’s why our community hub—the WhatsApp chat—isn’t going anywhere. It’s yours as much as it is mine, and I’d love for you to use it. Start a conversation. Invite people for coffee. Organize a picnic. Ask a weird question.

And if nobody replies right away, don’t panic. I’ve sent plenty of messages into the void over the years and somehow survived every single one of them.

Sending you so much love!

okay darling, but where are we heading to?

Chapter Two

I hope you’re enjoying the vacation season and the good whether 💖

Meanwhile, I’m in my creative bubble redesigning Secret Club’s paid subscription. We have been evolving together and are ready for something bolder, feminist, magical and highly creative.

Just to give you an idea of what I’m planning:

❤️‍🔥 womenhood vs. patriarchy
🍦 living deliciously
✍️ journaling
🔮 tarot readings
🛋️ online lives
🫧 magical bubble dispatch
☎️ interviews
👁️ illustrations

I’m in a highly creative mode and social media almost hurts me, that’s why my Instagram is silent.

Next week, I’ll be in Stockholm for a System of a Down concert and my inner teenager is jumping up and down. Besides, I’ll take the chance to gather inspiration and delicious inspiring ideas for our brains.

Mini spoiler: I already have a new logo 🤩 editorial guidelines for what’s coming next and, omg!, can’t wait to share it all with you!

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9 PM—the sun was still up. Dinner always feels like lunch during this time of the year, in this part of the world. As the sun was up, nine pm seemed like a perfect time to have a Coca-Cola and orange juice popsicle. Two-color popsicles are instant joy.

The sky was bright blue. The seagulls were doing their Summer errands on the top of the buildings. The swallows just danced their free jazz. A soft summer jazz warming up for the peak of the season. My body can’t fly, but it grooves, just as the seagulls, stolen ice creams, the swallows that fish and vibe. But not as those annoying ducks that poop everywhere.

The Sun—in tarot and in the sky—is about the body. Our molecules get it: time to grow, spread, tan, sweat, swim. It’s fertile, alive. The liquids in my body are bubbling, and it blows a big bubble around me. Everything looks holographic from here. I thought Summer was meant to pop this bubble and spread my body parts all around. But it’s not the right thing to do. For now, I’ll stay here.

I’ll be in, enjoying the magical colors and recharging my creativity with its magical hue. It feels delicious in here. Bubbly, comfy, and fun. I can roll, and sometimes it flies, but not too high—my weight gets it back to the ground.

🫧 to claim your bubble, don’t ask for permission—you can always get inspired by the hermit.

Journal & Tarot

I'm cooking up something around journaling + tarot. This is something I have been doing every week for myself, and I would love to share.

Think of tarot talk, prompts, and journal together. Then, a Q&A to wrap up and go ahead with our day.

This is still living in my ideas box, and I would love to hear your thoughts! I made a video to help you understand what I have in mind for now.

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❋ Book Club Picnic — Sunday, June 28

We’re taking our book club outdoors! Join us at Töölö Bay for an afternoon of The Age of Innocence, delicious snacks, literary gossip, book bingo (with two books to win), and the kind of conversations that linger long after the picnic ends. The discussion will be guided by Carol Bonatto, writer, reader, and enthusiastic instigator of good book talks.

Book Club

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The universe punished me for being a coward. Thankfully, it only cost money, but I can’t afford the same mistake.

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When I was 13, we took the candles from the school’s chapel for our Halloween party. We grabbed the matches, too, and that’s how the Catholic Church sponsored our gathering.

Life is still a bit chaotic (or maybe I am); still, nothing compares to the adrenaline of smoking in my bedroom and hearing my dad’s car. I smoked mostly normal cigarettes and always had a pack of Negresco (Brazilian Oreo).

To this day, my mom still has no idea how many times I went to a skate park in another city with my skater friends. A five-star night out always had someone puking, and it was considered fun. I remember when a friend puked neon yellow, and we were so impressed! She was really an alien! Now I think it was not okay, but never mind, because on that same day, we lost her at the club and found her sleeping by a tree! We thought it was a backpack!

I don’t miss getting drunk and especially don’t miss getting sick. I miss being so easily excited about small things, having secrets or something to enthusiastically rage against. I miss being a riot grrrl, and I sadly and finally understand adults with adrenaline hobbies, or the ones going to every protest. Maybe I should find a team to root for or join a fan club.

Life can be very boring as a put-together-adult: Gym from Monday to Friday, skincare, eat our veggies, have a good day job, and behave well so we don’t lose it. We smile at people we don’t like; we mute group chats we don’t want to read instead of simply leaving; we don’t have any fights and make up with our friends. We don’t borrow each other's clothes—at least within the Secret Club, we have our annual Clothing Swap.

It’s weird and sad that our adrenaline has to be calculated. Did we build a Truman’s Show kind of existence? I refuse to get nihilistic, though. I know I’m alive to enjoy this lifetime. Sometimes I fail that, but I keep reminding myself that the purpose of it all is to have fun. The purpose isn’t to pay the bills. I know it’s confusing because every bill has a clear due date, and our expiring time is unknown.

However, the gap between a boring adult and a fun teenager isn’t just social expectations, age, and hormones. I think it’s also what happens when life teaches us to calculate consequences.

We lose something when we become experts at anticipating damage. Our joints stiffen, our jaws clench, and our minds grow less willing to leap. We start mistaking playfulness for irresponsibility, as though the two were in the same box.

I’ve been trying to call my younger self to ask for advice, but she’s too busy living to pick up. When I finally reach her, I’ll ask what I would do today—and follow her lead without blinking.

❋ Clothing Swap Picnic — Sunday, June 7, we’ll gather at Töölö Bay once again for something that already feels like a tradition. Our fourth edition already — I can’t wait. You’ll find the event details in our WhatsApp group.

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A new tarot deck has been slapping truths on my face. It doesn’t sugarcoat anything. It told me I’m a there-there person—a coward softly editing herself to be digestible.

When I was a teen, my mom told me not to kiss all the boys in town, or I’d get a bad reputation. Nowadays, I only want to kiss that one guy (whom I’m married to), yet I still worry about my reputation and try my best to make myself palatable for social and professional survival. This has gone so far that I can’t recognise myself anymore. I’m sick of my clothes, my photos, my social media, and my neighbourhood. I want to find a new place to live with a larger wardrobe, but the one with a walk-in closet had too many red flags.

You have to pay attention, because red flags in this town are dyed baby pink. No one dares to tell you that you suck. They know — or fear — they’re being watched, so they keep up appearances. Everyone is sweet, always smiling, and never criticises you. It’s a small city, and everyone knows everybody.

I know someone who’s supposedly burning bridges, and I wonder: is she? Or is she just refusing to people-please for the sake of her reputation? I would need to dig deeper into the gossip to get the details. But, you know, not good for my rep.

A friend once told me about a French guy she was dating, not seriously yet, though. As she described him, I realised it was the same guy another friend had kissed at a party a week before. Should I have said, “Hey, a friend of mine just kissed the same guy”? I didn’t think it was relevant. It just confirmed we live in a tiny little egg of a city.

Not saying this to justify my new bland self, still, my inner teenager is shaking her head at me. She was proudly one of the weirdos in my hometown — a place even smaller than Helsinki. She confused people with unconventional makeup, pink-and-purple hair, and outfits curated for the artsy gaze. She wore black Converse high-tops to a debutante ball. One friend’s mother forbade us from hanging out because of my eyebrow piercing she considered “lesbian.” Guess who turned out to be a lesbian after all? Mothers really do know their kids, and in the late 90s, it was still taboo.

I don’t want my inner teen to see I’m not bold anymore. I’m disappointed with this tame version of myself. That girl I used to be can’t stand it, and I hope she can help me to come up with a plan.

Please?

Can we take a break from everything? Just for a while. We’ll go through some sort of detox or spring inner cleaning. We can think of a short solo trip, with a silent retreat, no mirrors, no internet. A place where no one knows our name, and we can choose whatever we want. Maybe Chlöe or Mathilda. We can shop for vintage and dress however we want, just to feel something different. I’ll start with black jeans and a cowboy hat. Pink roller skates, no purse, a pocket knife, and cash in my bra.

This is not just about the outfit. On my way back, I promise I’ll be brave enough to be disliked. We’re not on a diet, but I’m leaving the sugar behind. No rudeness—just honesty, assertiveness, and the refusal to shrink myself to meet imagined expectations. Maybe they’re just waiting for someone to stop performing for them.

❋ Secret Book Club — Saturday, May 23, our book club returns. This time, we’re reading I Who Have Never Known Men and gathering at the coziest market in town for a delicious brunch. Expect brunch, coffee, gossip, bingo with surprises, and great conversations—guided by Carol Bonatto, a voracious reader and writer.

Join the book club

Oh, hi. It’s Tass.

This is our private corner for the conversations that begin over brunch, stretch across long voice notes, and somehow turn into a recommendation, an invitation, or a fit of laughter.

I write weekly, and there’s always something waiting at the bottom.

the past two weeks have been filled with physical pain, ibuprofen pills, and “I know what’s happening to my body, no need to see a doctor”. My body mirrors whatever stress I feel, and recently, things are just weird.

I can’t find a position that doesn’t hurt my hips or my shoulder. I know the stiffness isn’t only physical, and a sound massage made that painfully clear. I went to a studio to let the vibrations massage my energy — because why not? The experience felt so strangely magical that I left completely mesmerized, already thinking about when I could go back again.

Behind an ordinary door on Eerikinkatu in Kamppi, Vibing Hel, created by Hélène, holds a pink, ethereal space for deep relaxation that is like an oracle for the body. She begins with a short conversation to tune the experience to what you’re carrying. I told her I’d been thinking about my tendency to become deeply entangled in every project I join, how this constant immersion has been slowly consuming my creative energy like vanilla cream folded into coffee: impossible to separate once dissolved. I don’t want that.

I closed my eyes, and my body easily swam with the bowls’ soundings. Then, my right shoulder started to bother me in pain. I moved and got off the flow. The chimes invited me to play, but my heavy shoulders didn’t allow me to enjoy it. It became crystal clear in my body: I’m still skipping fun, pressuring to perform, searching for money through production, not value. At some point, the vibrations won: I surrendered with my arms over my head, and enjoyed the rest of the session.

When the bowls were silent and I re-downloaded my soul back, Hèléne served me some water and asked how I was feeling—she always has this after moment with clients to help us get the most out of it. I explained my shoulder issue, and she said something I’d never expect.

During the session, she placed three bowls along my body, each aligned with a different chakra. The bowls near my head and chest opened into clear, resonant vibrations, but the one resting close to my sacral chakra behaved differently: instead of echoing outward, it held the sound inside itself. It reminded me of something my husband once explained about drums. When he wants a cymbal to stop expanding its sound, he tightens it. A relaxed cymbal vibrates freely. It breathes, carries, sustains. Tension contains the resonance instead of letting it travel.

I paused to digest that information.

My tense pelvis was holding the vibration right where the creativity, emotions, sexuality, and pleasure should flow. It can be only my stiff hips, or it can be the sacral chakra. To solve the mystery, I picked a tarot card.

The Four of Wands showed a turtle curled into the same position my body instinctively chose when my shoulders began to ache. A card about celebration, pleasure, lightness. Not just rest — intentional fun. Four is a stable number, feet firmly on the ground, so joy has something solid to stand on.

But goldfish grow to the size of their bowl, and lately mine has been feeling a little too tight for the shape of my expression. I feel like one of those plants that forces itself through a crack in concrete, quietly pushing against its boundaries to make room to exist. Except I’m not growing through pavement, and the limitation is probably the shape I keep insisting on fitting into.

I would never have guessed that a sound massage could give language to the feelings stored in my body.

Something else:

• The sacral chakra

• Yoga for creativity and passion

• The Inner Architecture of Energy: A Journey Through the 7 Chakras

• Sacral chakra healing playlist

• I felt the urge to make a joke about “hips don’t lie,” but I controlled myself so as not to kill the vibe.

❋ Join a Sound Massage with a special discount — If you want to try the same experience, Hélène offered us a 25% OFF! To book your session, click here, choose payment at the store (Maksa Liikkeessä), and tell her you’re a Secret Club member. We would love to hear how it goes for you!

❋ Clothing Swap Picnic — Sunday, June 7, we’ll gather at Töölö Bay once again for something that already feels like a tradition. Our fourth edition already — I can’t wait. You’ll find the event in our WhatsApp group.

❋ Secret Vibe Lab — Our first edition was absolutely perfect, and the next session is coming soon. Stay tuned because I’ll probably make a poll on WhatsApp.

❋ Secret Book Club (this is your sign, because a last-minute cancellation just opened a spot!) — Saturday, May 23, our book club returns. This time, we’re reading I Who Have Never Known Men and gathering at the coziest market in town for a delicious brunch. Expect brunch, coffee, gossip, bingo with surprises, and great conversations—guided by Carol Bonatto, a voracious reader and writer.

Join the book club

I thought Secret Club would automatically bring me a perfect Sex and the City girl gang—a group of four to six amazing women who adore and support each other. We would brunch almost every Sunday, plot against patriarchy, blame capitalism, and go on a trip to Tokyo, or Italy, or the French Riviera. I would serve the creative, bubbly, crazy rich aunt vibe.

Bringing people together doesn’t mean helping them make meaningful connections (ouch!). I have been doing this for at least three years, believing that my writing would solve the small talk gap. Although it’s been really helpful, I can squeeze my brain juice and take us to the next level, even though I’m not a friendship specialist nor a psychologist. As a writer and a curious tester, I can read, overthink this topic, and ask you questions.

That’s actually how I learned two things: values & vibes. These two are the most important things to help people click. However, the match-making is suffering due to our lack of awareness, clarity, and reliance on casualness. We know we want friends and connections, right? But what kind are we looking for right now? After running the Vibe Lab with myself, I realized I’m not looking for besties, I’m looking for creative buddies. It’s my immediate need at the moment. Also important: it changes time after time.

So, how do we assess this information and shape moments with intention? I have an idea, and the name our community chose is Vibe Lab.

I remember feeling awful at a dinner with my husband’s colleagues. I sat there hoping no one would ask what I did for work, because I had quit my job due to burnout. In my mind, everyone else had a dream career, made great money, and had their life together.

I had no real intention of connecting with anyone, mostly because I didn’t even know what kind of connection I was looking for. What I probably needed was care, warmth, and closeness — the kind of comfort that’s hard to find in a room full of strangers where you feel expected to seem cool, accomplished, and put together.

The most embarrassing part, looking back, is that people were actually kind to me. No one judged me. I had no real reason to feel so ashamed, and yet I carried that feeling the entire evening.

Yes, intentions, babe.

Our intentions are the first thing we need to understand.
What kind of connection am I looking for today?

People can tune into many different channels and levels, but connection only happens when both sides are open to meeting on the same frequency. We don’t always need new people. Sometimes, we simply need to notice the ones who are ready to meet us where we are right now. This is the front door.

After that, we still need to notice how at ease we feel around people. Tuning into our body can save us a lot of time and frustration. Whenever I ignored the feeling that something was off and tried to rationalize why I dislike a person never paid off.

Beyond that instinct, we can also notice whether we feel safe enough to be open and vulnerable, or whether we feel triggered to perform, impress, or prove ourselves. The more self-conscious we are around someone, the more drained we’ll likely feel afterwards.

After vibes, come the values.

Again, we need to know what our values are so we can recognize our crew when we meet them. And values change, too. If you’re looking to build a network, you might value ambition or excellence most. If you’re simply looking for people to spend time with, spontaneity or ease may matter more.

Can you already see how powerful this awareness can be? Instead of forcing ourselves into spaces that drain us, we can intentionally choose the ones where our social needs are more likely to be met.

The cherry on top! 🍒

In our Vibe Lab, we’ll assess our vibes & values:

• vibes: ease in the body, emotional atmosphere, depth, social rhythm, and the kind of connection we’re craving.

  values: the qualities and behaviors that support and match our vibe.

Then, together, we’ll co-create rituals, sessions, prompts, and activities designed to bring out the kind of connection we actually want — and share the results with the community.

Learn more Vibe Lab 🫧

❋ Secret Vibe Lab — Saturday, May 9 🫧 A session where we’ll co-create an experience for real connection using tarot, journaling, and our creativity as the starting point. Let’s cook some magic!

Secret Vibe Lab

❋ Secret Book Club — Saturday, May 23, our book club returns. This time, we’re reading I Who Have Never Known Men and gathering at the coziest market in town for a delicious brunch. Expect brunch, coffee, gossip, bingo with surprises, and great conversations—guided by Carol Bonatto, a voracious reader and writer.

Join the book club

❋ Secret Retreat — Saturday, August 21—23 🌲 Our very first retreat is a playful, slow-living weekend designed for women who crave real connection, creativity, and a touch of magic. We’ll spend a weekend moving between quiet moments and shared experiences, morning rituals, lakeside swims, baking, firelight, sauna, laughter, and the kind of conversations that flow easily when you feel truly at ease.

Secret Retreat

❋ Community gatherings coming up: We are going to Linnanmäki on May 16th! Click below to join our WhatsApp group chat.

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Monday started intensely: phone calls from real estate brokers, messages that can’t wait too long, even my dog was up before eight. The cozy smell of coffee kept everything sane. When the egg boiler beeped, I put my phone away, sat at the table for breakfast, journaling and planning the week. My dog barked because she wanted another bite from my jammy eggs. I got up to pull the blinds down so the sun wouldn’t glare in my eyes, and that’s when I saw the notification that made me instantly nervous. I rushed to the computer with a million what-ifs running in circles around my brain. I had to breathe deeply four times and adultly tell myself to calm down because, regardless, I would write my book.

Decision: Not awarded.

I dropped a few tears. Just a few. I messaged my besties—they felt sorry, and so did I. I savoured the rejection a bit, to know what it tastes like. It's bitter, but it doesn’t linger. Or at least this one didn’t. After ten minutes, I shifted from sorry to excited again.

to grant: a big verb —

it means agreeing to a request instead of refusing it. It also means acknowledging that it was true. And, of course, it refers to officially giving money, rights, or access for a specific purpose.

Now I realize. I wanted all of it.

I want to grant myself the chance to write my book as a priority, and money would definitely help with that. I want to acknowledge that it’s possible, and money really helps with that. I want the money so I don’t have to spend my creativity figuring out how to monetize other things.

I felt the bitterness in my mouth again, but it vanished—my body knows the subtle difference between “not awarded” and “rejected”. Rejections hit harder. Nevertheless, if someone breaks your heart, they are blocking the access to love through them, but not refusing you love.

Hello, this is Tass calling to recover my agency.

I wasn’t awarded the grant, but I can still write my book. I wasn’t invited to an interview, but I can still share my writing on LinkedIn. I wasn’t selected for a masterclass, but I can find the exercises and gather friends to workshop together. I wasn’t invited to the party, but I can host something at my place. My reel flopped, but I can simply post again.

As a woman, my body knows resilience is ridiculously tiring, and I can’t keep excusing the default frustrations of a patriarchal structure. We were taught to swallow being passed over for promotions, earning less, not being heard. Many times it’s not fair. Other times, it simply is what it is. Regardless, I claim my agency. I do it anyway, stubborn consistency as a lifestyle.

They won’t give me money, but I’m granting myself in other ways.
For me, and for every woman who’s tired of waiting to be chosen.

I’ll be mostly talking about my book-writing journey on Instagram and Substack Notes.

❋ Secret Vibe Lab — Saturday, May 9 🫧 So many of you said you want to get closer to people with the same vibe and have more meaningful conversations—and that you’re open to co-creating something. So, we are building something together! A session where we’ll co-create an experience for real connection using tarot, journaling, and our creativity as the starting point. Let’s cook some magic!

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Oh, hi. It’s me, Tass. This newsletter is an invitation for an unhinged conversation, the kind we could have over brunch or a glass of wine with friends who actually care. We don’t just talk, we meet in real life — scroll all the way to the bottom, I have a few invitations for you.

I was 29 when I sold my car so I could get my MBA degree before having kids. I did this with an IUD in my uterus, despite never seriously considering getting pregnant. This contradiction perfectly reflects the message we received in the early 2000’s: don’t ever get pregnant versus be an independent woman with a great job and a beautiful family.

I have a clear memory of a hormonal wave that hit me four years ago and made me truly consider having kids. I remember messaging a friend about how much I was dreaming of a little girl. I had tears of joy in my eyes just imagining that cute, tiny human. But I’m a classic millennial, and it didn’t last. Imagining motherhood triggered my issues: I can’t afford to have her. I’m too emotionally unstable to keep a regular job. I felt 16 again, and pregnancy was a punishment for naughty girls, something to avoid at all costs. Motherhood was still divine, though. It would level me up to “mommy”, a Goddess who can do everything on her own, multiply food and love out of nothing, and be sustained by grace. When I woke up from this dream, what scared me the most was how lonely I pictured myself in it. Loneliness—number one among my top three fears. Second is having no money.

The contradictions go on and on. A year after the hormonal wave had passed, I had a meltdown because I had given up on motherhood to pursue career, money, my curiosity, my writing, an interesting life, and end up with nothing. When I hit rock bottom, I wished I had a daughter so I could say I had achieved something meaningful in my life. I also thought that having someone depend on me would boost my motivation to keep going. Afterwards, I felt the most selfish person in the world.

It led to a sincere discussion with my therapist. I asked her whether the desire to be a mom is real or something patriarchy has brainwashed us into believing. She asked me why I wanted to be a mom. My answer was easy: I don’t want to be a mom—I’m just curious about being pregnant, giving birth, and watching a child grow into a teenager, then an adult.

Curiosity might be enough if I were a rich woman willing to pass property down within the family. That’s not the case, unfortunately. The desire to be a mother may not be a requirement for having kids, but without it, chances are you’ll regret it or find it much harder. If I had a baby, would I prefer paying to outsource the work or having a village to help me? Does anyone have a village-friendly lifestyle nowadays? Isn’t having a safe way to care for your baby and raise them enough? Does it have to be so complicated? It probably shouldn’t.

I’ll always savor the strange taste of missing something I never truly wanted, living as a kind of teenage adult. I know that never having held a sick baby has left my view of life softer, more naive. And I wonder about that unique kind of love and fear—the kind that only exists when you create a person from your own cells. I’ll stay curious. The last time I looked in the mirror, I didn’t see a mother looking back at me.

P.S. I seem to have forgotten there’s usually a father in the picture. I didn’t, but in my notes on not being a mother, I realize I can’t fully account for the father as an equal part of the equation. This is not a belief or a value I hold—it’s simply my honest perspective in this reflection. I loved my dad deeply, and I’m forever grateful that he provided for us financially. My mom took care of me, my sister, and everything else, so he could focus on work and have more freedom.

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Oh, hi. It’s me, Tass.

This newsletter is an invitation for an unhinged conversation, the kind we could have over brunch or a glass of wine with friends who actually care.

We don’t just talk, we meet in real life too.

Join our next Book Club

Next week, I’ll release a new concept of meetings! Stay tuned.

I tell everyone I’ll be a tarot reader when I retire, because I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop working. Not only for money reasons, but mainly because I don’t want to, for now at least.

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Oh, hi. It’s me, Tass. This newsletter is an invitation for an unhinged conversation, the kind we could have over brunch or a glass of wine. I’m serious, we meet in real life, too:

Join our book club

I tell my friends that living in Helsinki matches my personality. As it’s a cool thing. Deep inside, I’m trying to convince myself that the weirdest decision I ever made for love was a good one. I came to this country entirely for love—accidentally(?), my career and finances melted away. I can’t blame Helsinki, though. There’s no guarantee I wouldn’t have gone through a similar burnout journey if I had stayed in São Paulo. Maybe it'd been worse. You never know, babe.

I was no queen in the tropics, but I had (until 2019) a pretty charming life, not only on paper, but I actually enjoyed most of it. Maybe working too much, but also seeing my career moving forward; spending a lot of money, yes, but having a lot of fun. Broke up with a toxic ex and was enjoying my sisterhood like never before. It created a clear level bar for my Finnish chapter, and I wouldn’t accept anything less.

After staying in Brazil for over a month, an odd feeling got me:

I feel like restarting my journey in Finland and doing things differently.

Sometimes I list what I would do differently if I started over. Now, I gave myself a restarting voucher, and this is my reboot manifesto —

After five years, I’m restarting from the very beginning. Or from the very beginning, possible. Or maybe I just came back from Brazil, craving a glow up to recreate that delicious Brazilian version of me.

Send help (!) — because getting help, and learning how to let people help me, is urgent. I thought moving countries would be a life upgrade, and that asking for help would mean admitting I wasn’t thriving, a flaw in the biggest decision I ever made. The one I could never question or regret. Admitting I need help felt almost like an insult. I’d feel defeated. I came from São Paulo. C’mon! Helsinki is a piece of cake.

I was arrogant enough to blame my capabilities, and foolish enough to believe I could handle it. Little did I know I was facing an unfamiliar system with different rules and paths. I couldn’t simply hack my way through it. Culture came across as rudeness many times, and I gave up learning Finnish because these people don’t deserve my effort. Not asking for help and not admitting I needed help left me confused, sad, and cynical, which eventually triggered dormant mental issues.

From now on, I will be the kid in the room: broken language and all the questions. If someone says I should know something by now, I’ll simply tell them I didn’t learn because I pretended I knew it already. It’s true. We’ll laugh, because it’s kind of funny, and I love replacing embarrassment with good laughter. For the next weird interaction, I promise myself I will speak out about my feelings. This type of awkwardness avoids overthinking later. Totally worth it.

The hardest part

Instead of holding onto my previous life expectations, I’ll jump headfirst and delight in the new. My restarting voucher doesn’t take regrets, and requires reinventing skills. I won’t go fully auditing my life, but I can list topics in which I’m settling for fine instead of aiming for what I want.

This is hard to admit. Damn. It all loops back to the help thing. Okay, no sugarcoating: I’m not satisfied with my bank account. My social life feels scattered. And I hate how long I sit on decisions when I’m afraid they’ll hurt people or make them leave. How can I get help for these things?

My first thought is: I’ll wait until Wednesday, my next therapy session. But she cannot fix my entire life, unfortunately. I need other resources. Maybe a friend of a friend, if I ever gather the courage to ask someone, “Hey, I’m trying to understand how to actually make money as an independent writer. Could I talk this through with you?“. An expensive coach would be easier because it cuts down the shame. I know there’s no shame in asking for help, but it squeezes my stomach, a wrong feeling I need to unpack to glow up.

I probably need to evaluate the energy I invest in my social life and focus more intentionally — bringing closer the people whose vibes align with mine, rather than just spending time with everyone for fun. I need to stop spreading myself too thin across many groups and create space for friendships where I feel grounded, supported, and comfortable asking for help.

Maybe living in Helsinki does match my personality after all.

Inspired by I’m also listing

What kind of help I’m calling into my life

At the beginning of this year, I went all-in on my dream of becoming an independent writer. A decision that scared the shit out of me, but also made me feel over the moon. I was encouraged by the support from Secret Club members, but also nervous about what people would think, knowing many expect me to constantly produce one event after another.

That’s why, as a writer for Secret Club, I’m ready to connect with readers who will engage with my essays, share them, and help shape this space into a creative sisterhood for women outgrowing their lives and plotting against patriarchy. Writing alone is powerful, but conversations make it richer.

As an independent writer, I’m calling in help to deepen my practice, explore stories that matter, blast my words into the world, and claim every space they deserve. One day soon, you’ll see me in The Cut, Vogue, Glamour, and every major outlet that matters. Just watch me.

And as a human, I’m opening myself to friendships with people with multiple interests and hobbies who love to build meaningful things. I’m inviting help to find more reasons to expand into a slow, intentional creative life on my own terms.

Let me know what kind of help you’re welcoming too. Maybe I could be useful.

Wow. It feels good, to be honest.

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Oh, hi. It’s me, Tass. This newsletter is an invitation for an unhinged conversation, the kind we could have over brunch or a glass of wine with friends who actually care.

We don’t just talk, we meet in real life too:

Join our book club

If you make it all the way to the bottom, there’s a second invitation for a free tarot reading night—and some very cute pictures of me as a wedding officiant. Can you believe it?

the year was 2018, and I was broken inside due to a toxic relationship with a toxic boyfriend. I had no idea I could just leave. In that same year, I met Jéssica at work. She was younger than me, but knew things I didn’t.

Her self-love overflowed, and I was lucky to be by her side with my empty cup and the humbleness to listen. My old friends had already tried to heal my broken wings, but I became good at dodging their advice and faking my feelings. I admit I tend to ignore advice, especially from my sister. Later, I ask her, “Why didn’t you tell me?” — of course, she did.

In the spring of 2025, Jéssica invited me to officiate at her wedding, and I immediately said yes. I would not only be honoured, but would also have the chance to share with many people what we had elaborated about love over the years of friendship and shared experiences.

Our conversations were the way out of the situation I was trapped in. She showed me I wasn’t crazy or ungrateful. Or asking too much, and most importantly, she made it crystal clear that it wasn’t supposed to be sour and uncomfortable. Not now and then, not ever.

Our 60-minute lunchtimes at work were not only for eating, but for long chats about what a healthy relationship is, what is unacceptable, how we should communicate, how to develop intimacy, and what intimacy boundaries are. We compared, we talked about movies, and of course, we gossiped. She proved to me that romantic relationships were meant to be easy.

Jéssica became my life saviour, a great friend, and a woman whom I look after and care deeply for. Last Sunday, I put all I learned from her and her now husband into words and officiated their wedding in the most lovable, fun, and light ceremony I have ever witnessed. The vibe was pure love and joy.

The marriage I live today is, in many ways, inspired by hers—and I hope I can influence others in that direction too. I know there are different ways to love, different agreements to be made. But the basics, I believe, are universal.

To write the wedding ceremony, I interviewed a few of the bride and groom’s closest friends and decoded their Secret of Love. I think everyone should hear it.

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Oh, hi. It’s me, Tass.

This newsletter is an invitation for an unhinged conversation, the kind we could have over brunch or a glass of wine with friends who actually care. So pour yourself something to drink and sit with me for five minutes — let’s talk about sleep and snoring husbands.

We don’t just talk, we meet in real life too. This Sunday: ceramics workshop.
And save the date — Thursday, April 9, dinner time (details down below).

Join the next meetup

I always thought sleeping well was a superpower—until I realized it’s a mix of superpower, luck, and life setup.

I turned on the local TV the other day, and they were comparing how many people don’t sleep well across different states in Brazil. I’m in the worst place (Distrito Federal), and it caught my attention because my sister is a bad sleeper, while my mom and I are on the other side of the sleeping spectrum.

I fall asleep fast, sleep well, and snore a bit, but I’m a light sleeper. If I’m not using my earplugs, I might wake up in the middle of the night because of my husband’s snoring. It must be funny to watch us sleep. Years ago, my earplugs became my secret weapon: they really changed the game for me. Nowadays, they are with me everywhere, and I don’t even risk sleeping without them. I might wake up miserable now and then, never for reasons I can avoid, though.

The TV report didn’t go into why women top the rankings for poor sleep, so I have a few theories: maybe her husband snores and falls asleep before she does. Maybe her husband snores and falls asleep before she does. Maybe she’s the one getting up at night to check on the kids. Maybe a terrible public transport system stretches her commute, and as you might remember, the world out there is less safe for women — so the safest route, not the smartest, is the one we take.

For now, let’s focus on snoring men because it turns out that it’s not a sexist stereotype: men snore almost twice as much as women do. The gap will only narrow after menopause or pregnancy. That’s what Ryan Chin Taw Cheong, an ear, nose, and throat consultant and sleep surgeon at University College London hospitals, told The Guardian.

💤

I was staying at a friend’s place when her boyfriend slept over. In the morning, I saw him on the couch and immediately thought: Oh… did they have a fight? I asked her, quietly, if everything was okay. She said yes—all good. He just snores, and she’s a light sleeper. No drama.

Later on, I listened to a podcast in which a couple explains why they sleep in separate rooms. He breathes loudly, she likes to wake up in the middle of the night to write, and it also gives them the chance to decorate their own spaces however they want. It all made me remember the idea of having a sofa bed in our studies as an alternative to having separate rooms.

I brought this idea to bed, during those quick conversations we have before falling asleep. We laughed and hugged when we realized we both love sleeping together and having a couple’s suite. We don’t have one yet, let us dream. Despite that, I don’t wake him up to come to bed when he sleeps on the couch. I take the chance to read until late, with a fireplace and some instrumental jazz looping on YouTube.

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No one tells us that intimacy also sounds like snoring. I remember my father breathing like a truck engine while my mother slept in the guest room. He didn’t like it, but she did it anyway. Sleep deprivation is hell; we should take it seriously.

Although I’m not a fan of sleeping in separate bedrooms, I do think it’s wise to have another bed to retreat to, in case you or your partner snores too loudly. Or maybe you have the flu and are coughing all night. Sleeping is sacred, and building a life setup that protects it is a way to claim our power.

Maybe sleeping well isn’t just a superpower. Maybe it’s something we have to build, protect, and negotiate. In a world where male gaze already made (make) us starve, we can’t stay up all night. Things like sleeping in separate bedrooms and encouraging men to check their ear, nose, and throat health can be a form of protest, a way of claiming ourselves. We could add vasectomies to the list, why not?

After all, we need to be strong to respond whenever we feel oppressed, diminished, or simply not appreciated. We need to be up for it — energized to respond, to resist, and to take care of each other.

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Hello Pearl. Grab your overpriced drink, take five minutes, and let’s dissect the things we’re not supposed to say out loud. That message you haven’t sent. The job you keep saying you’ll quit after one more bonus. The irrational fear of walking to the bathroom at night. It’s safe in here. This is only between us.

You’ll find upcoming meetup links scrolling all the way down to the bottom.

When I worked in corporate jobs, International Women’s Day was about as comfortable as the first day of your period — tamponless, in a thong and skinny jeans. I’d be in a nasty mood and quietly despising all my male colleagues. Their breathing sounded like centuries of unspoken violence and historical imbalance. I didn’t want to be there. There are only two things I’d rather do on March 8th: gather at Senate Square and march with an antipatriarchal sign, as I did last year, or celebrate womanhood, as I’ll be doing this year.

But I wasted many Women’s Days feeling powerless over the ridiculous human resources team’s attempts. As I couldn’t say anything without losing my temper, I faked smiles for flowers, beauty products, and pastel empowerment. One year, we had a series of talks with women in high-ranking roles, which finally seemed okay. However, before the panel even began, a man walked onto the stage and said something like “You’re the ones who really run things,” and then followed it with what he thought was a funny remark about his wife. No one laughed.

I wish I could replace my disdain with honest conversation. But if I try, I turn into a teenage girl in pure anger, black makeup, skipping class to skate with the guys, and refusing to wear pink. It’s a funny feeling: I hated everything girly as much as boys did. Or I tried to convince myself I did, at least.

This quote is a reply from Joseph Campbell to Maureen Murdock when she asked him about his thoughts on women’s journeys. He is the guy who created the hero’s journey in his 1949 book, The Hero with a Thousand Faces. It’s a collection of universal narrative patterns that significantly influenced modern storytelling, including George Lucas’s Star Wars.

To handle the disappointment, Murdock wrote the Women’s Arc in The Heroine’s Journey: Woman’s Quest for Wholeness (1990). The book draws on her experience as a psychologist working with women to articulate what she had been observing in her practice.

She argues that many girls learn very early that to succeed in society, they must distance themselves from what is considered feminine: emotion, softness, intuition, and care become weak or unserious. We are subtly told to adapt by identifying with masculine values such as achievement, productivity, and rationality.

In my twenties, I felt like a better woman because my IUD blocked my period. It made me (phew!) less of a girl. Like an authentic heroine, my journey included trying to succeed by playing the game according to masculine rules: highly competent, competitive, and emotionally controlled (artificial hormones doing their job pretty well, btw). A fake comfort in a fabricated life—that’s how I felt.

Maybe coming to Finland, maybe the pandemic, maybe being almost 40. The thing is: something shook my internal tension, and it was impossible not to feel how deeply my success belonged to a system that devalues parts of myself. I was climbing the wrong ladder.

Therapy, meltdowns, deep dive into self-knowledge led me to accept that success in the masculine world would never make me whole, and this nonconformity feeling presses anxiety buttons, especially in moments like Women’s Day. It tastes horrible, it stinks, but as I got close to the edge, I was also getting close to reclaiming the feminine as a valuable way of being: intuitive, emotionally intelligent, caring, and creative af.

It’s not about rejecting the masculine world entirely. I must embrace the heroine’s goal to become whole by integrating both.

In a society that celebrates women symbolically, but sticks to structures of power that mostly reward masculine norms, the rage is not irrational—it’s the friction between recognition and reality.

Let’s integrate them.

If you want to catch up in person, we’re doing something creative and fun with Kaura Ceramics on Sunday, March 22 — we’ll create everyday ritual ceramic pieces, which we can engrave a promise, a reminder, or a boundary you don’t want to cross anymore.

Join the Workshop

On Saturday, April 11, our book club returns. We’re reading Wuthering Heights and gathering for a delicious brunch to dissect love, obsession, and emotional chaos. 😮‍💨

Grab a sit in our book club

We’re now partnering with Venga, an events platform that is based in Sweden. They offered us all the help, and I believe it makes all the sense to support a Nordic company. It works pretty similarly to Luma, but instead of getting emails, you’ll get SMS messages. If you need any help, feel free to ask me.

Missing you guys already. I wish I could bring you all here 💖

Love you,
Tássia

Energy Vampires Are Real Shit

We’ve all met Energy Vampires. I met a lot in Finland, although I respectfully disagree when people say Finns are gloomy and cold. Not because I want them to like me and let me live here permanently. Not because I want them to pay for my newsletter. Actually, the other day, a Finnish friend shouted my name when she saw me from afar! This really sparked my day: so good to occasionally meet you. See? Energy Vampires don’t do that, and they don’t live only in vampire-like lands such as Romania or Transylvania— believe me: there are a lot of them in Brazil, I even dated one a few years ago. EVs are pretty much all over the world and have bred into different kinds.

Let me refresh your mind: you probably know a Vibe Killer, who always brings something negative to whatever topic is going on. Sometimes it just takes them a glance or a comment to suck all the positivity out of a room—“Is that so?” one might say, making you feel small in a second. They can be competitive sometimes, topping something worse on a tragedy that is already rolling. They have great memories and will remind you of things humanity should probably forget about. This is not your friend who loves true crime series. An Energy Vampire will make the room go silent, and someone will finally beg: Let’s change the subject.

There’s a hilarious TV show called What We Do in the Shadows that portrays the lives of three regular vampires, a familiar, and Colin Robinson, the Energy Vampire. They are being documented by a film crew, although they were supposed to live silently, in the shadows. Colin Robinson, though, is quite different from the other vampires: he can’t turn himself into a bat, has no fangs, and can sunbathe if he wants. He feeds on the energy of any person and other vampires, too, no matter how powerful they are. He is the best at turning ordinary topics into tedium. While people get sleepy from his boredom, he gets full power.

Just like Colin, Energy Vampires thrive at boring jobs in boring offices to feed on their colleagues by asking unnecessary questions about the printer or spreadsheets that no one cares about.

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Not every Energy Sucker feeds on boredom, though. There are Misfortune Lovers who feed on whatever pitiful situation a person has. They can’t miss a funeral to ask, dig, spiral—until you finally say, “I don’t want to talk right now” only to hear “It’s okay, darling, I’m just SO VERY sorry for you.” Then a burp reveals: full of energy!

I met this Energy Vampire, whom we can call the Disillusionment Dealer, who had a dream job as a Finnish Culture teacher. She excelled at making everyone in the room hate this country, even when she talked about berries and mushrooms. Her mastery was to make unemployed foreigners terribly bad about being in Finland. She softly delivered harmless comments that would make everyone feel guilty for being here. Now, thinking back, she was quite fit for the amount of bad vibes she vibrated—Colin Robinson got overweight in an episode where he was feeding too much.

Even though we all can drain someone’s energy, that doesn’t make us energy vampires. I’m talking about the genuine ones here. This is not your friend who’s living a shit marriage and has been overengaged in evil gossip—she’s being a wicked person because she’s hurt. However, that guy from Tinder who thrives on your emotional deprivation and closure needs is probably part of the EV team. And anyone who gives silent treatment is probably an energy vampire, too. This is the most energy vampire thing to do, imho.

🧄

No fangs, yes. But sadly, we can’t shoo them away with garlic. You can kill an Energy Vampire by piercing a stake through its heart, but it’s too messy and criminal. A better option is to let them starve, and they actually can’t feed from people who know their worth, hold their boundaries, and feel solid in who they are. I remember this guy making the most boring monologue to a friend—I had rolled my eyes so many times, my eyeballs were already dizzy. When I look at her, she’s truly smiling and nodding. What did I get wrong?! That’s when I realized she wasn’t being affected. She is that kind of sunshine with so much good within that only sees good in people. Energy Vampires bounce back around her.

I don’t think I have enough goodness in me, so the best I can do to save my ass is this: acknowledge they exist, practice my boundaries, and avoid getting hurt unnecessarily whenever I can. Like the other day, when I dropped a message in the group chat and left an online Finnish class that was slowly draining the life out of me.

No big deal.
No guilt spiral.
Just a quiet exit.

🔪

But what if you can’t turn the camera off? What if Colin Robinson is your roomie, or your boss, your mom’s new boyfriend, or anyone you can’t dodge? In that case, limiting access is key. Share as little as possible of your energy, your stories, your time. Keep it to the minimum necessary—if it’s your boss, box meeting times, or bring another colleague into the meeting, whenever is proper.

If it’s a friend or a family member, my old trick is agreeing beforehand on getting late for dinner, even if it means I’ll miss the main course. And when the encounter is inevitable, I go slippery and shift my attention to other conversations, because energy vampires are trolls. There’s no point in spending your heart to try an honest conversation. If you push it, they’ll drain all your patience away until you rue it.

Boundaries are your garlic. You won’t regret using them generously.

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Community Voice — I’m thrilled to share that I’m an IWWOF Awards finalist. Thank you to everyone who voted for me 🎀 your support truly means the world. If you’d like to join the ceremony, click to register.

Secret Book Club — Last Sunday, we had our Secret Book Club N.17! Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead by Olga Tokarczuk brought up themes such as astrology, friendship, aging as a woman, and animal rights, which is the main theme of the book. If you’re curious to see how it went, click here. If you want to know more about the book and the author, there’s this amazing conversation with Olga and Dua Lipa.

Sharing — I was today years old when I heard about The Heroine’s Journey for the very first time! I need to get my hands on this book, and I firmly believe every woman in this world (or maybe in the Western world) should learn about it.

Upcoming meetups —

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Dear Diary is a monthly love letter to the mess and magic of relationships — with others, and with myself.

This evening we’ll have our How to Read Tarot for Your Besties Workshop on Thursday, 12.02 at 18:00, a Galentine’s night, for intuitive and fun girl talk hosted by me at the launch of Peach Studios, Kamppi. It’s gonna be magical and full of surprises! If you can’t join, we still have one last spot in our Brunch Book Club the following week.

It’s damn cold outside, so grab a hot chocolate and enjoy the five-minute read 🗝

I know it’s not much for many people, but it’s my personal record: I’ve been proudly going to the gym for three weeks. It has already become a sacred time where nothing can hurt me or reach me. The perfect way to start off the day.

However, I made a mistake.

I opened my social media during a 10-minute elliptical warm-up. You know how ridiculously sensitive I am to it. Exactly. The anxiety monster topped me with cream and—SNAP!—I was dessert before lunchtime. Luckily, I had a therapy session that day, and my therapist quickly rescued me.

Using our phones while we exercise tends to spike our cortisol — yes, cortisol, aka stress hormone — and drops the quality of the exercise. Can’t believe I’m talking about exercising! We can blame (or thank) the vision board we did last month. It’s God Damn Working.

Speaking of therapy, I actually started this entry to share something my therapist said that blew my mind 🤯

What I Learned in My Last Therapy Session

She said this to nudge me while I was whining about people who don’t respect my time. She walked me through different situations where I disrespect my own time, emotions, energy, effort, truth, ideas, space, priorities, and promises. All that mirrors how people treat me.

I already knew people treat us the way we treat ourselves. But I had only applied it to romantic relationships and never realized it holds for everyone who crosses our path.

If I were a mom, I’d be thinking about how to raise kids who respect themselves unapologetically. I’m a tarot reader, though. So I’m thinking about The Lovers x The Devil.

Reflection and projection: what I notice or dismiss in myself is mirrored in how I treat others.

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The Lovers have an angel blessing their naked souls because they stayed loyal to themselves and nurtured each other’s deepest truth. They didn’t take shortcuts that kept them trapped in vicious cycles. They didn’t negotiate their souls with the Devil or disrespect themselves for instant gratification.

The Devil, on the other hand, chains the couple who sold their souls to get what they wanted immediately instead of doing the hard things.

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In Finland, Valentine’s Day is a celebration of friendship. So we’re leaning into that with two delicious experiences, chosen by your votes in our WhatsApp chat. Hope to see you there.

✺ Thursday, 12.02 at 18:00 — How to Read Tarot for Your Besties: Fun, intuitive tarot with friends. Hosted by Tássia (me) at the launch of Peach Studios, Kamppi.

✺ Friday, 13.02 at 17:30 — Sauna Galentine’s Ritual: An intimate afternoon with the girls. Relax, ground, and be pampered through a magical sauna ritual by Irina.

✺ Saturday, 21.02 at 12:00 — Secret Book Club Brunch — Cozy up with a delicious brunch at Moko Market Punavuori and get lost in an amazing read: Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead. I promise, you’ll devour it in days.

Never miss a Secret Club event anymore

38 Things I Regret, Raw and Honest

1

I regret never letting my younger sister get the best swing at the playground. And I especially regret the day I fooled her when she got the good one. I wish I were a more loving sister. She is so lovely and deserves so much love. Of course, I was too young to notice it, and maybe I was not born as lovely and caring as she is. If I could rewrite those days, I’d change that.

2

I regret all the times I said or thought bad things about my mom. How dare I?

3

In my first year of Journalism, we had to write a paper in pairs. We split the work, then combined our parts into a single piece. I noticed that her section was copied from a website. I told her I wouldn’t include it and that we should submit our parts separately. I should have stopped there, but I also told the teacher why. She ended up with poor grades and lost her scholarship. Damn, I regret it badly.

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Dear Diary is a monthly love letter to the mess and magic of relationships — with others, and with myself. I don’t have answers, just lots of questions, but I believe in connecting through words. That’s why I keep writing.

If you love meeting in person, join our Secret Book Club Brunch on February 18! It’s gonna be a casual, super cozy, and delicious meeting at Moko Market Punavuori, here in Helsinki. Scroll all the way down to find two more meetups happening in February!

Grab a warm cup of hot chocolate, and enjoy the three-minute read 🗝

It used to piss me off that I’m always changing something in the community. And whenever I made a change, I promised myself not to ever change it again. Then, a few months later, I would be doing something differently again and fighting internally. But not anymore! Today, I finally understood why I do that, and I discovered that twisting things now and then is actually amazing, and needed to keep Secret Club alive.

Would I be part of a community I don’t really like? No. And because I’m sitting on the community lead seat (Goddess knows it took me a while to admit it), the club has to satisfy me. I know! You have no idea how dreadful it sounds to my ears. Pleasing myself is something I say I should do, but when it comes to something that involves other people, it terrifies me.

I couldn’t even convince my colleagues at work to have lunch at my favourite restaurant because it felt unfair. It bothers me if people have to do something different because of me. I couldn’t ever be a vegan. I simply couldn’t ever bother people to choose a different place to eat because of me. Well, nowadays in Helsinki it’s not a problem, but pretend you’re in France, then you get me.

Secret Club only becomes fantastic when I love it without hesitation. And if I slightly dislike something, I must change it immediately. Because a community is a living thing.

To add a cherry on top of that liveness, our precious pearls always influence Secret Club with their presence: it can be a comment in the chat, or here on Substack, a link to a restaurant, an invitation, a suggestion, or bringing their energy to enlighten our meetups. Our vibes are there to play.

Secret Club is a collection of womanhood vibes — iridescent, layered, and softly shimmering like mother-of-pearl.

I usually say we are “the most vibrant community in Helsinki,” and now I know what I actually mean.

OH, BUT THERE’S SOMETHING I NEED TO CONFESS

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Hi Pearls! Yesterday we had the 8th meeting to discuss Women Who Run with the Wolves!

Some of us might have skipped some pages, but we made it. We had eight (!!!) meetings and went through many unsettling topics together, had emotional moments, dropped a few tears, and followed the urge to understand the traps life held for women.

We soaked up the learnings, we asked difficult questions, shared personal stories, and grew together. Some of us coincidentally (!) broke up from relationships that passed their prime.

We learned life is so much more than our personal experiences, and, more interestingly, how it can be so similar even in completely different scenarios just because we are women and the world repeats itself.

What a journey! Thank you to all who showed up!

Should you read Women Who Run with the Wolves, too?

I was in a terrible, toxic relationship, feeling completely depleted. I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t have the strength to get out of it. When I touched this book for the first time, it became my life savior, the light at the end, and the ticket to Never Repeating Old Mistakes Land. I devour it, reading like a bible. I made notes, I journaled about it, and went on long walks by myself with a podcast about it in my ears.

An older friend advised me, “Tássia, you’re reading the divorce book”. I agree with her — it’s almost impossible to stay in bad situations after that. Women Who Run with the Wolves (1992) is like a friend who will advise you harshly when you’re deluded by passion, lust, tiredness, money, conveniece and all the other things our ego loves.

Clarissa Pinkola Estés is a Mexican-American writer and Jungian psychoanalyst, and the WWRWTW, written in 1992, sold over two million copies. The book is almost like an oracle (I have to admit I used it as an oracle many times): it has 16 chapters, each one with a theme explained by folk tales, indigenous myths, or fairy stories. Maybe you recall some of them: Vasilisa and Baba Yaga (hello, Cinderella), The Seal Skin, The Soul Skin, Red Shoes, The Skeleton Woman, and many more.

After each story, Clarissa explains the symbols it carries and brings insights to our modern lives. It sound mistical when you don’t know that myths, fairy tales, and symbols repeat across cultures because they come from a shared human psychological layer, not coincidence. I have a feeling this is the reason why many people cringe over this book.

Along with the symbols, she brings the concepts of the instinctive, natural self born with us before rules, shame, or shoulds. It’s called wild woman because it’s self-regulated by instinct, not by external approval.

The reading is not the easiest — the book has technical concepts (archetypes, ego, predator, wild self, etc) and words, and might not be the most palatable if you’re used to romances like me. It won’t be the easiest to fully grasp if you’re not familiar with Jungian psychology, mythology & folklore, feminist cultural critique, and psychology in general.

Here are my most honest observations if you’re considering reading this book but aren’t sure yet. The reading below will take about five minutes and might be enough to help you decide if you’re curious about what this book is really about.

It’s not a smooth ride

This book brings complex concepts to light along with old folk stories, and the language is not the easiest (not too complicated either), but many of us reported zooming out and needing to read a paragraph many times. Plus, it’s heavy on notes that make all the difference for full immersion, and you’ll need to search things on the internet.

When you read a chapter that you can relate to, it’s easier to understand what she’s explaining. But if you never faced a similar situation — metaphorically, of course, because the old fairy tales can be quite scary — it’s hard to concentrate and to grasp what she’s saying. Regarding that, I think you don’t need to read the entire book at once; this is the book that you definitely should skip some chapters and read “on demand”. Reading it superficially can be a waste of time, but it’s a good thing to at least know what each chapter is about.

It’s emotionally unsettling

Clarissa doesn’t stay on the surface. The stories stir grief, anger, longing, and old memories— especially around womanhood, mothering, creativity, and lost parts that we might have forgotten. If someone is in a fragile emotional place or prefers light, comforting reads, this book can feel too intense.

We all have areas in our lives that could be changed, removed, or improved. If you’re living your best life with no regrets, guilt, or secrets, then you should be fine. Actually, you don’t even need this book.

People say that they feel “the calling to read WWRWTW,” and I think it is because we already know it has the power to pull the curtain and reveal what doesn’t belong in our lives anymore.

When I read the paragraph above (14th chapter), I could immediately point out exactly the wrong moves I’ve been making. She explains the entire story and the consequences so deeply that I just feel compelled to solve the matter. The problem is, they are not guided steps you can follow, and, just like Vasilisa, you might need to do hard things,s such as unfriend someone from your family, for example. Or divorce, or quit your job, or make a delation, reveal a secret. Expect the unsettling.

To me, it goes like this: I read the tale, then I relate to the characters. When the explanations come, I feel an urge to change radically so I’ll never go through the horrible things the character went through. I’ll stay awake, and I’ll pay attention to my Seal Skin, and no fisherman will steal it from me.

Radical changes are not always possible, though, and we’ll have to live knowing the heavy truth. So, if you’re not ready to find out things such as wanting to move to another place, restarting your career, quitting a job, or getting a divorce, don’t read it yet.

Sometimes, we know there’s something we should unravel, but we’re not ready to face it. If the truth will bring more anxiety than freedom, put this book back on the shelf.

It will take you deeper within yourself

Are you too busy to challenge social conditioning? Read something else. WWRWTW will not only nudge your life, values, beliefs, and behaviours, but also your friends’. You’ll feel like taking a picture of a paragraph and sending it to a friend who needs to see that. I used to do it with my sister and my mom. Just recently stopped before they start hating this book.

Clarissa questions patriarchy, obedience, self-sacrifice, and the “good woman” archetype. For readers who are comfortable with traditional roles — or who don’t want to question family, religion, culture, or identity — it can feel confrontational or unnecessary.

We love to share our zodiac characteristics reels and to point out how something is so us. Our ego loves a confirmation that we are brave, innovative, or crybabies. If it’s something positive or softly points out our faults, then fine. We even share in our online profiles as a badge. Look at me, so Aquarius! You’ll see yourself and your family in this book many times, but I bet you won’t share it on your Instagram.

It will invite you to follow your soul's needs

It sounds woo-woo, and I love it.

The main goal of this book is to reveal what are the traps of the patriarchal society and how we can be strong enough to not only survive but also not to submit to a life that looks good on the surface but doesn’t make us feel whole.

This is a book for the wonderers who want to become the person they love to be, create a life they truly love to live, with no regrets, no buts, no what ifs. I’m not sure if it’s entirely possible, but at least it walks you through this direction.

The Wild Woman she mentions all the time is a version of ourselves connected to our instincts, intuition, and creativity. A version of ourselves that feels complete and connects with other people and the outside world in balance. It’s easy to write it down, but to become this woman, depending on how traumatized life made you, it’s a monumental job.

It doesn’t offer clear guidelines

There’s no structured guide on how to handle situations. The greatest value of reading Women Who Run with the Wolves is learning to observe what’s happening and becoming aware, with your ears up. You start seeing patterns more clearly because the book gives you frameworks, and life tends to repeat itself. If, like me, you’re a naive person who tends to trust everyone, this awareness is especially helpful so you’re no longer the easiest prey for predators.

Despite not offering a step-by-step approach, she repeatedly emphasizes the importance of expressing ourselves through creativity. She encourages us to make our art regardless: write, paint, sew, make ceramics, collage, make music, dance, or do whatever makes your soul feel good. I believe we exist through our creations; they make us steadier, stronger, and more resilient. Just as going to the gym regularly makes your body stronger, creativity strengthens your soul.

xoxo,
Tássia

P.s.: The Artist Way, by Julia Cameron, is a good practice to keep yourself tuned to your intuition and to your soul.

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