I have always believed that privacy is the real key, even as a little girl. Whether out of necessity or a desire to share knowledge, I have always preferred keeping the real storm inside me. Staying private felt like being “preserved” and “respectful to myself,” a way of honoring my own sense of truth.

Fortunately, some rare and precious minds chose to share their innermost thoughts with the world. Kierkegaard was one of them. His ideas reached me in ways that felt profoundly personal. I call him my “big brother,” not to diminish his stature, but because he silently guided me in the ways I needed, probably in ways he never anticipated. Of course, this is my personal experience; Kierkegaard himself had no expectation of being seen this way.

As I mentioned, I have always chosen to preserve my thoughts, questions, and ideas. Perhaps I was fortunate enough to share and discuss everything with my parents, so I never felt obliged to seek validation from others. But as I reached the early stages of young adulthood, I realized that I needed new boundaries, even with my parents. When I confided this to my mother, she said, “Whenever you need advice, you may consult a psychologist you trust.” At first, this seemed logical.

After experimenting with this path and reflecting deeply, I realized that it wasn’t quite right for me. I had no major crises; my struggles were with myself. Paying someone to navigate my existential musings didn’t feel organic – it was transactional, almost obligatory. What did I expect, in the end?

So, I turned to what had always been my refuge: the library. Its quiet halls became sacred portals, taking me to parallel heights in my mind. And one day, I found it, the book that would change my perspective: Either/Or by Søren Kierkegaard. Of course, I was not unfamiliar with philosophy or Kierkegaard but reading him in that moment hit differently. It was as if someone was reading my soul, gently guiding me, giving me what I needed before I even asked.

I was mesmerized. I lost track of how many times I read that book. Then I moved on to The Present Age. How could someone born in 1813, living in Denmark, meet the mental and emotional needs of a girl in a completely different “modern” time and place?

Kierkegaard became my big brother, a silent mentor guiding my thoughts across centuries. At first, I hesitated to share my perspective about a philosopher in this way, as it might seem too shallow or disrespectful. But I decided to share this view of mine, because philosophy is not only about knowing theories and concepts. It is about what it makes you think. About what it makes you feel. About the questions it forces you to ask. Probably, Kierkegaard would be surprised if he knew someone saw him this way.

Through him, I learned that solitude can be nourishing and that privacy can be empowering. Even as social animals, my approach towards carrying myself was not abnormal.

But perhaps the most meaningful thing I’ve learned from him is this: when I feel the need to change something in my life, or when I sense that I crave difference, I no longer interpret it as a betrayal of who I am. Instead, I see it as a sign of growth, as a transition into another chapter of my life. Kierkegaard helped me understand that change is not disloyalty to the self; it is the very process through which the self becomes more authentic.

I am so grateful for Kierkegaard having that enormous impact on my life.

“When I see myself cursed, abominated, hated for my coldness and heartlessness: then I laugh, then my wrath is satiated. If these good people could really put me in the wrong, if they could actually make me do wrong – well, then I should have lost.”

— Either/Or, Søren Kierkegaard, Vol.1, p.39, Translated by David F. Swenson and Lillian Marvin Swenson

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