In a world where the news cycle spins faster than a Zagreb tram on a tight schedule and zero air conditioning, staying sane feels like trying to hold onto your last nerve while juggling a burek, a screaming toddler, and your will to live. But fear not, dear reader! I’ve cracked the code to preserve one’s remaining brain cells: a potent cocktail of satire, domestic bliss, controlled chaos, and three cats who think they own the deed to our apartment.
1. Embrace the Absurdity (It’s All We’ve Got)
Let’s face it—the world has gone full Lud, zbunjen, normalan, and nobody even remembers what normalan is supposed to look like anymore. Politicians shout “Domovino!” like they’re auditioning for a poorly scripted telenovela, and our economy has the stability of a tourist on Hvar after two rakijas and a sunstroke.
My advice? Channel your inner Let 3, put on metaphorical (or literal) underpants over your clothes, and dance with absurdity. If you can’t beat the madness, at least get some cardio out of it.
2. Find Solace in the Simple Things
Home is where the heart is. And also where someone’s always yelling “Mamaaaaa!” from the room, someone else is cleaning cat puke, and yet somehow—it’s all bliss.
I’m a wife, a mother, and a full-time cat servant. My husband, bless his soul, supplies us with food and is a great cook. Our child is a never-ending question machine (“Why birds poop?”) and our three feline overlords remind me daily that while I cannot control global events, I can control the distribution of food—and that’s power. Even if I can’t afford tomatoes this week because Konzum decided they’re now a luxury item.
3. Satire as Survival (Sarcasm: Our National Sport)
Here in Croatia, satire isn’t just a genre—it’s a survival mechanism dressed in a tracksuit, sipping coffee for three hours straight. From the delightfully unhinged chaos of Prime Time to the absurdity of real-life headlines, we’ve mastered the art of laughing so we don’t cry. Who needs dystopian fiction when you’ve got daily news like “Man in Split fined for building a jacuzzi in a protected ruin while arguing with a seagull”?
And when satire gets censored (cough Montirani proces cough), we don’t riot—we meme. Harder. Louder. And with better Photoshop.
I’ve swapped doom scrolling for digital minimalism—trading the bottomless pit of crisis updates for carefully chosen doses of joy, comedy, and the occasional recipe I pretend I might one day make. The world may be unraveling, but at least my screen time no longer feels like emotional self-harm.
4. Community: Coffee, Chaos, and Complaining (Together)
Croatians have a superpower: spontaneous social cohesion in times of stress. Is Konzum charging 4€ for tomatoes? Outrage! Boycott! Facebook group! Are we rallying for free press? Bring banners and a loud ajmoooo! Our collective spirit, kept afloat by coffee and decades of generational trauma, is weirdly comforting. Especially when it all culminates in an old man at the market yelling “Sve je to politika!” and storming off with three kilos of potatoes.
And if all else fails, we complain. Loudly. And then someone offers you rakija and suddenly everything feels slightly more manageable.
5. The Art of Selective Engagement (or: No, I Will Not Read the Comments)
I now curate my media intake like a sommelier with anxiety. One sip of global headlines, two gulps of local absurdity, and then a full detox with a good book and no TV in the house.
Knowing when to log off is crucial. So is muting that one guy who shares conspiracy theories with the enthusiasm of a beach vendor selling inflatable flamingos. (You know the one. He still thinks the 2020 earthquake was “a government test.”)
6. Embracing the Chaos (and Naming It “Tuesday”)
Staying sane isn’t about eliminating the chaos–it’s about naming it, feeding it, and making peace with its presence in your kitchen. Especially if it’s a child smearing peanut butter all over her face, or a cat throwing up on your favourite couch.
Acceptance is freedom. Surrender is sanity. And sometimes, both come with a side of cat hair on your plate.
7. Final Thoughts from the Eye of the Storm
To my fellow Croatians, Balkan warriors of resilience, and honorary members of the Global Clown Show: find your anchors. Cherish your little daily joys. Laugh often. Cry if you need to. Then laugh at how weird it all is.
And if you’re ever in doubt, remember: three cats, a kind partner, a curious child, and a good sarcastic outlook can weather almost anything. Especially if someone remembered to make coffee.
Erika Matić is a writer, mother, and human pillow to three cats and a three-year-old. When not wielding satire like a weapon of mass distraction, she’s usually dancing in her living-room or hiding in the bathroom for five minutes of alone time.
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