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- Herausgeber: tredition
- Kategorie: Sachliteratur, Reportagen, Biografien
- Sprache: Englisch
The book tells the story of an emigration driven by exhaustion rather than a desire for adventure. The protagonist leaves Germany after her trust in state, social, and interpersonal structures has broken down. In Bali, she seeks stabilization but is confronted once again with systemic failure, power imbalances, and the diffusion of responsibility. These conditions reactivate earlier experiences stored in the nervous system. The narrative traces this process in a concrete, unspectacular way—through construction sites, electrical systems, relationships, and the gradual loss of stability.
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Seitenzahl: 82
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2026
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As an author, painter, and shaman, she has dedicated many years to exploring healing and inner transformation. Her work is deeply autobiographical, focusing on the effects of childhood trauma, particularly sexual abuse, which can cause profound, lifelong damage and completely destroy a person’s physical and mental health.
Her books reflect these two levels of trauma: her first work, Hidden Soul Canvas, illustrates how overwhelming it can be for an individual when systems fail and one is left to bear the burden alone —a situation that inevitably leads to collapse. Her latest book, What Lies Behind the Corona Crisis?, expands the perspective to collective trauma and the global failure of systems, as became evident during the pandemic.
This — her third — work reveals at the same time that there is no complete escape from deeply embedded trauma. Even in seemingly safe places, it catches up with you, because the Wetiko seed is anchored in the nervous system. The central question remains: How can one escape this seed? How can it be isolated, removed, and replaced with what is healthy?
Note on Anonymization
This book is inspired by the author’s own life experiences. All names, locations, and other identifiable details have been changed to protect the privacy of everyone involved. The main character is named Veronika, as a literary reference to Paulo Coelho’s Veronika Decides to Die, while allowing the author to tell her personal story anonymously.
“Abusive systems do not want to or cannot recognize that they are abusive—doing so would be suicidal. Recognition always occurs at a higher meta-level.”
– Therapeutic insight
Monika Auer
Welcome to Bali Veronika
A psychological novel beyond the romanticism of emigration
© 2025 Monika Auer
Editing by: Monika Auer
Cover design by: Monika Auer
Translation: AI-assisted translation (ChatGPT)
Printing and distribution on behalf of the author:
tredition GmbH, Heinz-Beusen-Stieg 5, 22926 Ahrensburg, Germany
This work, including all of its parts, is protected by copyright. The author is responsible for the content. Any use beyond the limits of copyright law requires the prior consent of the author. Publication and distribution are carried out on behalf of the author, who can be reached at: Monika Auer c/o Ursula Habicht, Wörthstr. 1, 75173 Pforzheim, Germany.
Contact address pursuant to the EU Product Safety Regulation: [email protected]
Content
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Part I: the Story
Chapter 1 – the Desire
Chapter 2 – the Decision in May
Chapter 3 – First Cracks
Chapter 4 – the Construction Site
Chapter 5 – Control
Chapter 6 – Gaslighting
Chapter 7 – Side Battles
Chapter 8 – Short Circuit
Chapter 9 – Mr. Stupid
Chapter 10 – Electricity, Method, Boundary
Chapter 11 – the Boogie
Chapter 12 – Cut
Chapter 13 – System Failure
Chapter 14 – Conditional
Addendum
Exit
Part II: the Interpretation
On Chapter 1
The Quiet Beginning of Separation
On Chapter 2
On Chapter 3
Loss of Ground
On Chapter 4
Chronic Overload and Loss of Control
On Chapter 5
Regression into Old Protection Mechanisms
On Chapter 6
When Reality Is Denied
On Chapter 7
Fragmentation, Chronic Stress, and Boundary Violation
On Chapter 8
Apparent Stabilization and Real Danger
On Chapter 9
Encounter, Projection, and Self-Assertion
On Chapter 10
Delegated Strength and Ambivalent Leadership
On Chapter 11
Staged Control and Intuitive Warning
On Chapter 12
Separation as Self-Rescue
On Chapter 13
Escalation Without External Support
On Chapter 14
Living Without Closure
On Addendum
Repetition Under a New Mask
Welcome to Bali Veronika
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter 1 – the Desire
On Addendum
Welcome to Bali Veronika
Cover
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Part I: The Story
Chapter 1 – The Desire
The desire to change my life did not appear suddenly. It had been building for years. Quietly. Persistently. Like a background hum you ignore for a long time, until it becomes impossible not to hear.
I wanted to leave Germany. No rehabilitation. No restitution. Away from an inner paralysis that this system had triggered in me. I no longer trust this country’s promise of care.
My life functioned. I functioned. But it was no longer a life that carried me. It had stagnated since the pandemic — the result of a systemic failure.
I was not running away. I was searching. For warmth. For time. For a place that would once again allow me to live at my own pace. Less external control. Less regulation by others. More space for myself.
Bali was not a coincidence. I had been there several times before the pandemic. I had worked as a jewelry designer, collaborated with locals, realized projects. I felt safe. Respected. Integrated through friendships with Balinese people. I knew the country not only as a tourist.
What drew me there was not its Instagram image. It was the matter-of-fact presence of creativity. In Ubud, it seemed as if every second person was painting, carving, singing, working with wood or gold. Art was not a status symbol. It was everyday life.
And there was this pulse — a heartbeat. At least in Ubud, everything felt intensely alive. There was life.
I loved the rice fields. That deep green that did not feel decorative, but existential. I loved the idea of exchanging the gray asphalt of my city for this green expanse. It calmed me. It affected me on a much deeper level. Earth. A scooter instead of the subway. Movement instead of stagnation.
I loved cruising through the streets, overhung by massive banyan trees. Especially in the mornings or evenings, when they were quieter.
I was not looking for an investment. I was not looking for a yield property. I was looking for a home. A place where I could live for the next fifteen to twenty years. Write. Work. Heal. Grow old.
What I did not know at the time: the desire for a home would lead me into a trial that had less to do with places than with systems. And with power.
Chapter 2 – The Decision in May
In May, I viewed Villa B. It was brokered to me by two brothers—Tri and Dan. Young, dynamic villa brokers with roots in Morocco and France. Born and raised in Bali.
Villa B—like Villas A, C, and D—belonged to a woman named S. from their circle. An aunt or a friend of their mother; it remained vague. But it conveyed closeness, trust, a kind of familial structure.
As I entered the semi-finished building, a breeze caught me. Not gentle. More demanding. As if it wanted to pull me inside. My gaze immediately fell on two slender tree trunks forming a V.
I walked toward them quickly, crossing the large open living area with the adjoining kitchen. Then I stepped across a small terrace into the garden, where the tree could be seen in its full height.
It stood centered on a small triangular patch of grass, stretching high into the sky. I placed my hands on both trunks.
“What beautiful energy,” I said.
“We didn’t cut it down. It was there from the beginning. An original,” came the reply.
We toured the rest of the villa. Two hundred square meters of land, one hundred nine square meters of living space, a 6.3-meter pool—not suited for long swim laps, but large enough to cool off and float on an air mattress.
The large rooftop terrace was convincing as well. Up there, the full splendor of the tree unfolded—a sea almond tree. Its dark green crown, majestic to behold, merged with the light green rice fields in the background to form an abstract painting.
That was exactly what I wanted. A green canvas.
The location was good. Not by the ocean, but close enough. A good mix of locals and expats. No party zone. No through traffic. Aside from the construction style, which wasn’t typically Balinese, everything seemed reasonable.
Leasehold. Twenty-eight years. I could resell, sublet, or live there myself. Remodeling was permitted. A Mediterranean style with a layout that immediately made sense.
