Key Takeaways
- A man in a small town in the north of the Netherlands uses very detailed to-do lists, tools and micro-routines to cope with heavy days and nights.
- He builds a strict structure around time, weather, news, quotes, and even a suspense story, then learns to soften those rules when they start to hurt instead of help.
- Harsh words at work about being “too slow” deepen his fear, but he slowly finds language and habits that protect him without shutting the world out.
- Small acts such as going to the toilet, throwing away old food, eating breakfast and sorting a toolbox become real steps of survival, not just chores.
Story & Details
In late November 2025, the mornings in the north of the Netherlands are cold and dark. In a quiet town near the coast, a man wakes very early and feels the weight of a long list inside his head. There is work, there is home, there is the body, there are messages and worries. It feels like too much.
To keep going, he turns his day into a set of very small pieces.
He notes every action. He takes socks to the wash. He charges his phone. He puts away a small coffee table after breakfast. He throws out a used tea bag and a spoon. He empties and washes the coffee pot and cup and plate and puts them back in their place. He checks that the heater is off and the window is closed before stepping out. He moves a trunk that stands in an unsafe way. He carries toilet paper and towels to the bathroom.
He puts strict labels on everything: done or pending. “Bed done.” “Trash still pending.” “Breakfast finished, breakfast cleaning still pending.” “Check tyres pending.” “Harness pending.” “Gasoline today pending.” Each line gives him a tiny sense of control.
Around these tasks he builds a larger frame. He chooses a hard sleep plan: go to bed at 19:00 and wake at 02:00 in his northern Dutch town, which uses the same clock as the rest of the country. He wants to hear, again and again, how long it is until those times, as if they are lighthouses in a storm. He asks for weather details for the next twenty-four hours in the area, hour by hour: fog warnings, clouds, small changes in temperature around freezing point.
He asks to hear one piece of good world news at a time, never repeated, never dark, and later not about the environment at all. The items include global health, new medicines, support for young people and improvements in mental health. He requests motivational quotes from real people and small life stories to go with them. For public figures like Eleanor Roosevelt, Gabriel García Márquez, Marie Curie or Steve Jobs, the dates of birth and death and the exact ages matter. So do causes of death or known illnesses. These details turn famous names into human beings who were also tired, also sick, also scared sometimes, but still did something that helped others.
He also wants to learn. He asks why speakers of Portuguese often understand Spanish more quickly than the other way round. The answer comes as a simple image: two languages that are cousins. One uses many “curves” in its sounds. The other uses clearer, “straight” sounds. Someone who grows up with many curves can follow straight lines more easily than someone who has only walked on straight lines and now has to dance. He smiles at that and keeps it as an easy way to explain it to others later.
There is also a short lesson in Dutch terms at work. He learns that many Dutch workers call plastic cable ties “kabelbinders” or “tiewraps”, and that in real life people spell that word in many different ways. The details of a simple object make him feel a bit more at home in a foreign language.
On top of all this, he plays with story.
He wants to build the “most suspenseful story in the universe”, but with a strange rule: only one new word can be added each time. At first this feels fun. Soon the story becomes what he calls “a pile of words with commas”. The text grows longer but not more clear. He asks for punctuation. He asks for sentences. In the end he says he is sick of the format. The rule that once felt safe now feels like a cage.
The story shifts. The many words are reshaped into short, dark scenes. A shadow crosses a doorway. A house is quiet and heavy. Something breathes at the end of a long corridor. Someone walks behind the narrator, always close, always almost touching. Calm appears in the middle of fear. A thick inner armour forms, like a shell the shadow is not sure it dares to touch. The same words now live in a more human rhythm.
Away from the page, real fear grows.
He is told at work that he is slow. The word hits hard. He already feels tired and under pressure. Now the label “slow” hangs over him like a cloud. He fears making mistakes with tools, with cables, with safety equipment. He thinks about his harness and his safety shoes. He checks and rechecks his toolbox. He puts old, broken work trousers in the trash. He plans to ask a colleague for a missing blue cutting tool so that his set will be complete. He checks his phone is not in “do not disturb” mode so that no important call is missed. He carries his keys and access card in his pocket and taps them again. He wants everything correct, so that no one can say his slowness is dangerous.
On some days he is already at the door and thinks, “I do not want to go to work.” He feels frightened of the whole day ahead. He says he feels inside a shell and does not want to come out. The shell keeps out judgement and harsh words. It also keeps out comfort. Inside it, the world feels far away but still loud.
In that state, even simple things matter. He goes to the toilet. He sorts and throws away leftover food so it does not smell or rot. He prepares breakfast and eats it. These actions are not big or heroic. They are signs that he still cares a little for his body and space. After a while he notices that “for now, everything is okay.”
Step by step, the strict frame he built begins to soften. He realises that asking for exact minutes between every action is not always possible. He accepts that weather and news information cannot be perfectly fresh all the time. He asks not to hear breathing exercises again because they irritate him. His needs change, and he lets the frame change with them.
The most important change is inside. One early morning he says very clearly that he is afraid of the day. Later he makes a different kind of statement: he decides he will face the day with calm. Calm, for him, does not mean smiling or moving fast. It means walking through the day at a speed that feels safe, even if someone else thinks it is slow. It means choosing which rules stay and which must bend.
The tasks do not vanish. There is still gasoline to buy, a room with dust to clean, tools in the car to sort, a black backpack to tidy, tyres to check, a harness to adjust, small work parts to place in a better pouch, messages to answer, photos of a project to organise, photos from life to study, Dutch language to learn. But there is also a new sentence near the centre of his day: “Everything is fine for now.” That sentence does not promise an easy life. It describes a small, real pause where nothing is falling apart, and it is enough.
Conclusions
The scene is simple: a quiet northern town, a cold month, and one man with a long list and a tired mind. There is no miracle moment and no big drama in public. The change happens in tiny moves.
Very detailed lists and strict rules give him a way to stand up when everything feels too heavy. At the same time, they show their limits. A suspense story built one word at a time becomes noise. A demand for perfect timing becomes stress. The frame has to bend.
What remains useful is much smaller and softer. Basic care for the body. Honest names for fear and shame. Plain words for limits at work. Short, kind quotes and facts about real people who lived, worked, suffered and died. A few steady anchors in the day, like chosen bedtimes and wake-up times, held lightly instead of with iron hands.
The most powerful part of this story is not a tool, a schedule, or a quote from a famous person. It is a quiet line spoken in a small kitchen on a hard morning: the choice to face the day with calm, and the simple relief of saying that, for this moment, everything is fine.
Selected References
[1] World Health Organization – Main site with information on malaria, vaccines and global health programmes.
https://www.who.int
[2] World Health Organization Regional Office for Africa – Information on polio eradication and certification of wild poliovirus elimination in the African Region.
https://www.afro.who.int
[3] Center for Nonviolent Communication – Background on Marshall Rosenberg’s work on communication and conflict resolution.
https://www.cnvc.org
[4] Susan David, PhD – Information on Emotional Agility and resources on dealing with difficult emotions.
https://www.susandavid.com
[5] TED – Brené Brown: “The power of vulnerability” (YouTube video on emotions, shame and courage, from a reputable educational channel).
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iCvmsMzlF7o
Appendix
Armour
A mental and emotional protection that can feel like a thick shell around a person. It helps keep out new hurt or judgement, but it can also make the person feel lonely and tired if it stays in place all the time.
Cable ties
Small plastic strips used to hold cables or other objects together. In Dutch workplaces they are often called “kabelbinders” or “tiewraps”, and people may spell that word in several different ways in daily use.
Calm
A state in which the body and mind are not rushing, even if problems and fears are still present. In this story, calm means choosing a slower, safer speed through the day instead of trying to match the fastest people around.
Emotional agility
An approach to inner life where a person notices feelings, accepts them as natural and then chooses actions that fit personal values instead of reacting automatically. It is often linked with the work of psychologist Susan David.
Nonviolent Communication
A style of speaking and listening that focuses on clear observation, honest feelings, underlying needs and respectful requests. It comes from the work of psychologist Marshall Rosenberg and is used to reduce conflict and blame.
Shell
Another image for inner armour. It suggests that a person feels closed in and safe from outside attacks, but also cut off from warmth, help and connection.
Slow label
A judgement that someone works or moves too slowly. When used as criticism at work or at home, it can hurt self-confidence and make a person fear taking part in tasks, even if their careful speed also protects against mistakes.
Task-list life
A way of living in which many small actions are tracked as items to be done or marked as done. It can give a sense of order when life feels chaotic, but it can also become heavy if the list grows faster than the energy to handle it.
Vulnerability
A state of being open to hurt or criticism. It can feel dangerous, but it is also the place where honest contact, courage and change become possible. Public talks and research on this theme often highlight its link with shame and connection.
Youth pattern
A strict routine that may be more common in teenage or very early adult years, such as extreme sleep schedules. In this story, the pattern of going to bed at 19:00 and waking at 02:00 shows a strong wish for control, even when the routine is hard to keep.
My Diary - Leonardo Cardillo 