Malta Book Presentation

Alright, now sit down for this part of the story — we’re going to need some breath.

By the time I decided to leave Portugal, I was already in a state of burnout. And after the burnout came a period of deep depression.

In Malta it all started because of one small thing — a mistake in my English school enrollment. But that tiny mistake triggered everything. A breakdown. The fear that everything could go wrong. Uncontrollable crying. I didn’t know where to go, I didn’t know much at all, and I had very little savings. Once again, I was alone. In a new country. Where I didn’t know anyone and didn’t speak the language.

I can’t quite explain the feeling. Or maybe I can. It was the same feeling of immobility and suffocation I had when I first arrived in Portugal — before I even got to Porto — when nothing made sense, and my ears felt blocked… I couldn’t sleep at night anymore, and everything was so painful, so deeply painful, that it became an almost silent despair. Everything felt dark and heavy.

I didn’t want to live. All I could think about was resting. And at that moment, when I arrived at Portugal, there were very real and valid reasons.

My father. The move to another country. The whole scenario of labor exploitation. The most important relationship I had ever had — where I learned what it meant to be loved — had ended just months before. The pressure of finishing my final university assignment, while also closing this college chapter that had been so meaningful to me. I loved that phase so deeply.

My father was in prison, accused of attempted femicide. And my little dog had died — she had been the dedication of a kind of love I couldn’t even explain.

So many times, I see myself as someone who lived through dreams — and then immediately through a nightmare that came right after.

At that moment in Portugal, everything hurt too much. I couldn’t think of a single good moment in life. Every achievement also seemed to mean the exact opposite: more effort, more pressure, more work to keep going — and I couldn’t handle it anymore.

That was the moment of exhaustion — when I saw myself back in Malta.

It was because of one small thing that went wrong with the English school enrollment that the breakdown came. The fear of everything going wrong. The uncontrollable crying. Not knowing where to go, with little understanding, little money saved, and once again alone, in a new country, where I didn’t know anyone and didn’t speak the language.

Do you remember how a teacher once made me enjoy studying? At that moment in Malta, when I joined the English class, I had only been there for a week. So when the teacher asked me to introduce myself, I shared. I talked about my dreams, I said I had written a book, and I explained why I wanted to learn English. I still wanted to become a diplomat.

That same teacher, for some reason, one day invited me to dinner. She told me her story. She had also moved alone — from the United States, now living in Malta. She had been married three times, and now, in her 60s, she was living independently, following what she truly wanted.

And on a day when I was feeling desperate, I remember the words she said to me:

“You need to keep going. You have something to do. You know what you want.”

I was still incredibly tired and honestly didn’t know much. I actually needed to learn English so I could escape that situation — that kind of work. I was about to give up on the book and focus on other things. But then that teacher said what she said. And I thought: if she agreed to show up at the event, I would make it happen.

And that’s exactly what I did. After getting her contact, I sent a message asking if she would come to a book event I was planning. She confirmed. And so it happened — I gathered the people I had met in those few weeks, in that new place, and organized a new book event. Now in Malta, in an English-speaking country. And just like that, the book officially became an international event.

Right then, I felt once again what makes me the happiest in this world. Of course, after a few glasses of red wine. But truly happy. Not only because I was starting to speak English, mixed with Spanish — because my friends are always international haha — but above all, because I knew my greatest passion was right there:

To share stories with people in an honest and meaningful way.

To be there again, fulfilling the mission I feel deep in my soul.