At the onset of 2022, I didn’t think I’d ever study history again.

It honestly still feels surreal coming back to the name “Fjorn,” despite having worked under that pseudonym since 2015. My followers saw me discover an interest in Norse history (2015), grow that into a fancy Master’s degree (2019), and even begin building a (different) website to host online courses I was making (2020). That all came suddenly tumbling down in January of 2022, just weeks after announcing a now-lost lesson on the old Yule.

And I’m still recovering, having only returned a few months ago on the 9th anniversary of me ‘becoming’ Fjorn (September 29th, 2024).

Since then, I’ve been doing a lot of reflection. My catastrophic burnout wasn’t just from taking on too many projects (although I definitely did). It was a complex buildup of several things going on both within and around myself during that time: a lack of balance, not realizing I was neurodivergent, suffering from family tensions, financial strain, and social pressures.

That’s the short version, but I’ll try to unravel things a bit more.

The first and foremost issue was not understanding myself better. I spent a lot of time reflecting on myself and what I really want in life between 2022 and 2024. Such a quest never ends, of course, but so far I’ve been able to see that a lot of my behaviors and tendencies stem from the way my brain works (or doesn’t): I hyper-fixate on special interests, struggle to connect with people (despite really wanting to), and often isolate myself to work (obsessively) on my hobbies/projects.

And because I hyper-fixate so much, I eventually decry the fact (when I finally notice) that I’ve let my other interests go unwatered (writing fantasy, painting, etc.), which leads me to depressive ‘seasons’ where I want to quit and focus, for a time, on those other things. That’s why I suddenly changed my mind about applying to PhD programs (to the dismay of my professors, who seemingly had a lot of hope in what I could have become…but alas).

I still experience those interest swings, but I’m better at noticing and managing it now. Probably.

In life and at work, I crave routine and get anxious when I’m thrown into social situations (my battery/mask doesn’t last long and I get very tired after dealing with people for too long). So, after graduating with my Master’s degree and struggling to get a “real” job, I tried to turn my special-interest hobbies (this whole Fjorn affair and my old tea shop) into substitutes for a ‘traditional’ career. Even now, despite finding a decent full-time job, I still loath the path American society expects of me. I don’t fit in with it.

But the problem leading up to 2022 was that I placed all that financial and social pressure on my special interests. That, in turn, exacerbated my already-existing tendency to hyper-fixate because now I had financial pressure to turn my hobby projects into careers—and I had to act fast because family tensions were coming to a boil.

Like I said before, I struggled in the job market after graduating university. This is a common experience nowadays, of course, but mine had a hint of “escaping society” embedded into it. Nearly every job I saw felt antithetical to me at the core. Perhaps most people feel that way. It wasn’t rational, but I found a part-time job and devoted myself to building up my previous educational website and tea shop to compensate for income gap of not having a “real” job.

I keep using “real” for a reason, though, because that plan did not have my family’s full support—and they used that word against me often.

I contributed to the household, but not nearly enough. They were right, of course (and I loathe how pathetic I felt). Whatever support I had for my aspirations slowly dwindled as their frustrations at my failures continued to fester. Feeling that tension grow, I continued obsessing with growing my passions into financial supports even more (to the great detriment of my mental health). I burned out by January 2022, quit my passion projects entirely, and focused on getting that “real” job again.

But it was too late.

By April 8th 2022, that family tension came to a head and I was told to “pay for my mistakes” whether that meant being homeless or not—and I’d like to emphasize that this was a time (especially in Florida, where I’m stuck living) when rent was soaring ruthlessly. Whether the homeless threat was real or not hardly matters. Either way, my situation felt desperate and I felt like I had lost all support when I needed it the most.

Ironically, I had just applied to (and soon after got) a full-time job (that I still have now). The response was “about time” coupled with an unreasonable demand to split rent evenly rather than proportionate to each individual’s income. To split rent with my mother and sister would, therefore, cost as much as a single bedroom apartment. Even with the new job, I didn’t (and still don’t) make very much. My sister, however, made double my income (and still does). If it didn’t matter financially whether I stayed or left, why remain in a hostile environment?

Naturally, my wife and I decided to move out. Thank the gods we both secured new jobs, bought a car, and found an apartment all within a single month. That April/May was absolutely crushing. We were fortunate, yes…but that was such a stressful time. If things didn’t align just right, we would have been in an even more dangerous and dark place indeed.

But back to the point.

After experiencing all of that, I was depressed and mentally exhausted. To be honest, the months that immediately followed are still a bit of a blur. I think I’ve blocked out a lot. For the first year, my wife and I had no days off together because I worked weekends. That really affected our recovery. It probably wasn’t until I managed to get my schedule changed that the healing was able to begin, because it was mostly time spent with my wife that helped. We tried to get out more (mainly museums) and spent many, many hours talking about ourselves, our needs, and our aspirations.

The healing process has taken nearly 3 years already.

And I don’t think it’s over yet, if it can even end.

There isn’t a magical “cure” moment.

If anything, I’d say that self-reflection was the best medicine. Understanding what happened—and why—was the most important part in mending my mental health. But sadly, that’s no easy task. I couldn’t have done it without my wife. I certainly couldn’t afford a therapist (and still can’t, for that matter). We needed each other. I’m grateful that, in hindsight, my situation had that silver lining…but I feel for those who have gone through similar hardships without what I had. I don’t think it can be done alone, but it’s in those times that we feel the most alone. Quite the paradox, is it not?

So that’s what happened to “Fjorn.”

It’s the þáttr (tale) version of events rather than the longer, saga version…but I’m not writing a biography here. Nevertheless, I hope this post helps explain why I disappeared for so long. Perhaps it will even explain why I will only work as fjörn when my mood fancies it now (because otherwise I’m writing fantasy as fëolnir). I appreciate tips, of course, but I also refuse to charge for access to my academic work now, too. It’s going to remain free because I don’t want my passions to be spoiled by financial strains.

But anyway…

I’m glad to be back.

It’s been a long journey.

Thank you for being here!