“Finally he will be fixing, instead of just destroying.”

Those were my father's words into my mother's ear, as he hugged her with relief, standing on the balcony, somewhere in the middle of the summer of 2001.

I had just told them that I made it to Electronics Engineering school. I was 18.

All my life, he had watched me destroy everything, from toys to tools.

“Και αυτό το χάλασες;”* was something I would often hear.

But I had a mind designed to inquire. A deep need to understand, never satisfied with the easy answer. So I would take everything apart, to the last screw.

He was right — I was destroying everything.

It turned out I wasn't meant to be an electronics engineer. I studied for a couple of years with great results. Indeed, I started fixing stuff. Then I dropped out and started wandering around. Greece, the Netherlands, Sweden. Back and forth for years.

I worked with computers, electronics, carpentry, became a photographer, worked in a kitchen, DJ'd. Most of it out of curiosity. As soon as I felt I understood something, I would pivot to something new.

The only thing I wasn't getting was me.

I went to gurus, therapists, healers, fortune tellers.
By 2020 I had a psychology degree. I was 37, and still lost.
It took me five more years to understand that there was no fix. Just endless corrections.

Like a helmsman correcting course after every wave.
And the waves always come back.

I also ski (badly), windsurf (I hope not as badly) and play a bit of guitar. Sometimes I spend time in my father's workshop, doing what I do best: trying to fix things.

The rest is in the writings.

* you broke that too?

BSc (Hons) Psychology · Licensed Psychologist in Greece · Co-author of published research