I’M HUBERT DUDOŃ— THIS IS MY TRUE STORY

Not perfect. Not always beautiful. Simply mine.

THE BEGINNING — CHILDHOOD, FAMILY AND THE EARLY YEARS

My name is Hubert Dudoń. I come from Poland, I was born in Kraków, and I am Deaf. When I try to look back at my whole life from the beginning, I cannot say that it was entirely good or entirely bad. Light and shadow have always existed together in my life. There were beautiful family moments, journeys, presents, games, school, laughter, curiosity about the world and ordinary childhood craziness. Alongside those things, there were also violence, family conflicts, harsh words, misunderstanding, loneliness and situations that, as a child, I could not even properly name. I do not want to present myself as a perfect person. I was calm and energetic at the same time: very curious, stubborn, sensitive, sometimes well behaved, sometimes a little troublemaker. Sometimes I provoked someone, then realised that I had gone too far and apologised. My emotions could change quickly. I could be sad, then laugh, then get angry again a little later. I do not need to give that a diagnostic label. That was simply how I was, and part of that character is still with me.

For most of my life, I did not even know exactly why I was Deaf. Different stories circulated in my family, and for years I did not know whether I had been born Deaf or had lost my hearing later. Only recently did I ask Mum more directly and learn something that genuinely surprised me. As she remembers it, I could hear at first. When I was about seven months old, I became seriously ill and was treated with an antibiotic. Mum remembers the name Augmentin and believes that the hearing damage appeared during that period of treatment. When I first read that, my immediate thought was: “Wait… what? I could hear?” It was a real shock, because I had never known my own story in that way. At the same time, I do not want to write that Augmentin definitely caused my deafness, because I do not currently have medical records that would allow me to confirm that. For now, I honestly treat it as Mum’s account. One day, when she has the strength, I would like to ask her calmly about the details.

My own memories begin at around the age of five. I grew up with Mum, Dad and my two brothers. My family home was no fairy tale, but I do not want to erase the good things either. There were holidays together, food, presents, trips, laughter, ordinary days and moments when I truly felt happy. There were also fights, violence, fear, shouting and situations that stayed with me for years. Some memories can still affect me deeply. I remember some very clearly; others are blurred, and there are things I no longer want to dig into by force. My history with Dad is particularly complicated. I can say that he had good qualities, taught me things and sometimes genuinely helped me. But there are also behaviours from the past that I do not accept and do not want to excuse. Things were not always easy with Mum either. We could argue fiercely. I was stubborn, she worried, and sometimes we completely misunderstood each other. Only as I grew older did I begin to see how much she had been through herself, how early she had needed to work, deal with difficulties and keep family life going. Today, she is the person I trust most.

From childhood, I spent a very long time without full freedom to communicate at home. My family were hearing, and I often did not understand what they were saying to me. I tried to guess, watched their lips, tried speaking, writing and showing things through gestures. Sometimes Dad or Mum tried to explain to someone what I meant. Dad learned the fingerspelling alphabet, and I remember how happy I was, years later, when I saw that he still remembered much of it. I thought: “Wow, you really remember?” But he did not develop his sign language further. Mum and my brothers did not learn it to a level where we could talk freely about everything either.

For many years, I tried to adapt, but it became increasingly exhausting. I saw my two brothers talking freely, joking and taking part in family life, while I often sat beside them in silence. Where was my place in that conversation? When I tried to join in, I sometimes got responses like: “Wait”, “Be quiet”, “All right, all right”, “Okay, okay” or “Never mind”. I experienced that as a convenient way of ending the conversation with me, without explaining what everyone else was discussing and without listening to me. It was not a single event. Similar situations repeated throughout childhood and still happened when I was already in my twenties. Even today, those responses can really piss me off. I want to talk, ask a question or say something of my own, but I feel brushed aside. Sometimes I explode and insult someone. I do not want to hide those reactions from my story. Earlier, I was more well behaved and obedient, but over time I stopped accepting the constant waiting and silence. To me, it began to feel like a war between me as a Deaf person and the hearing people at home. After years of this, I am tired of situations where everyone else can talk freely while I am only supposed to wait or be quiet.

I felt this particularly strongly during Christmas Eve gatherings. Everyone was together, but I did not always feel that I was truly with them. Anger built up inside me, and sometimes I exploded, even throwing plates. My reactions were that intense. That shows how overwhelmed I was, but it does not mean that hurting other people was a fair solution. I needed communication, reciprocity and a place at the table where I could participate in the conversation too. Presents did not make up for that absence. Sometimes I left the gathering, withdrew to my computer and games, or looked for my own space outside the home. But that did not remove the pain. Over time, I wanted less and less to attend those Christmas Eve gatherings. I stopped believing that I had to come simply because it was a family celebration.

I faced similar difficulties outside my own home too, including around a former partner’s family. I remember situations that I experienced as being forbidden to use sign language. That provoked very strong resistance in me. I felt that I was expected to adapt to other people, while my own need for communication was not given the same respect. I did not expect everyone to sign fluently immediately. I wanted to see a willingness to learn and a genuine attempt to communicate with me. When that was missing for years, I experienced it as an unwillingness to make an effort. I have heard similar stories from Deaf people around me, although every family and every person experienced them differently. For me, this problem was serious and left deep marks. Today, I want reciprocity. When it is absent, I would rather leave than sit in silence again and pretend that everything is fine.

SCHOOL, SIGN LANGUAGE, GAMES AND MY FIRST STEPS TOWARDS INDEPENDENCE

At first, I attended a Catholic school for hearing children in Krzeszowice. I was a Deaf child in an environment where almost everyone communicated differently from me. Sometimes children laughed at me, looked at me as the strange kid with a hearing aid, or simply did not know how to talk to me. I did not always know what they were actually saying either. Sometimes I guessed correctly; sometimes I got it completely wrong. One of the most important people from that period was Kamil. His appearance also made him stand out among the other children, while I stood out because I was Deaf and wore a hearing aid. In a way, we were both seen as “different”, and that was why we could support each other. We played together, and I remember that as one of the bright spots of my childhood. You do not always need a big speech to help someone. Sometimes it is enough for someone to sit beside you and say through their actions: “Come on, you’re with me.”

Later, someone at school noticed that I needed a different environment. After a conversation with Mum, I transferred to a school for Deaf children at Niecała 8 in Kraków. The first days were very difficult for me. I remember Mum, a few children looking at me, a completely new place and enormous stress. When Mum was about to leave, I did not want to let her go. All I could think was: “Don’t go.” I cried, I was afraid, and I did not know what to expect. But after a few days, I began to get used to it. That was where one of the most important changes in my life happened: I began learning sign language. First the alphabet, then individual signs, more words, complete sentences and increasingly natural conversations. Suddenly, I discovered that I could say something with my hands and another person would genuinely understand what I meant. For a Deaf child who had previously spent so much time guessing, that changed a great deal.

The school at Niecała was not a perfect place for me. There were strict teachers, conflicts and situations I remember badly. Even so, today I feel more warmth towards that school than towards some later stages of my education. There were trips, shared events, proud moments, sport and experiences that genuinely let me forget the problems at home for a while. I came second in table tennis. I remember being so close to first place that the final moments were incredibly stressful. When I lost, I almost cried. In my head, I was thinking: “Damn, I was so close.” But the teachers congratulated me, and after a little while I began to understand that second place was an achievement too. There were also media events, a trip to Warsaw and situations where I stood in front of a camera despite being very nervous. Before an experience like that, my head could be chaotic. Afterwards, the thought suddenly appeared: “Oh, damn. I did it.” These stories also connect with the DEAF LIFE & SIGN LANGUAGE section on my website, because school and my experiences of being Deaf strongly shaped the later part of my life.

A computer entered my life very early, at around the age of six. Since then, games have never really left me. I could sit in my room with four walls, silence, a computer and some peace. Sometimes I definitely played too much, and Dad was right when he said I was overdoing it. But games were also more than a way of killing time. They were a place where I could switch off from family chaos while learning in a way my brain enjoyed: I try, I lose, I look at where I made a mistake, I watch someone better, I return and try again. I was never a great fan of learning simply because someone told me to read a chapter and take a test. In a game, learning came more naturally because I could immediately see the consequences. Later, League of Legends took a special place in my life. Even today, at 29, I can still say that LoL is one of the things I genuinely enjoy and have no intention of being ashamed of.

There were also plenty of presents and ordinary childhood things. Clothes, toys, toy swords, bows, various things connected with historical weapons and history, then consoles, which appeared when I was roughly 12–15. I played a lot of football, practically from childhood until around the age of 20, and I also rode a bicycle a little. There was a motorbike and an accident that I blamed my brother for over a long time. Only when I grew older did I begin to look at that situation differently and accept that a large part of the responsibility might also have been mine. There were more moments like that. As a child or teenager, I saw a situation one way. Many years later, I would suddenly think: “Wait, perhaps I didn’t remember that entirely fairly.”

Travelling with my parents was very important too. Mum and Dad were the people who showed me the world beyond Poland. We went to Slovakia, Bulgaria, Greece, Croatia, Italy and other places. As a child, I was fascinated by the views, restaurants, food, the sea, different cities and the fact that people lived a little differently everywhere. Sometimes I wanted to try an attraction, and my parents said it was too expensive. First came sadness and the question “Why?”, then the answer “Because it costs too much”, and often I could let it go. At the time, I did not yet know that those family trips would leave me with a need to see more and more of the world.

The period between roughly 12 and 16 was a real mixture. School, games, jobs around the house, friends, laughter, studying, conflicts, ordinary days and difficult days. My parents divorced when I was around 16, and that was a major turning point for me. For a very long time, I could not accept the idea of Dad being with another woman or Mum being with another man. In my head, a family was simply supposed to be Mum, Dad and the children. Everything else felt unnatural and irritated me, even when I rationally knew that my parents had the right to build their lives in their own way.

At around the same age, I took my first really big step towards independence. After school, I was tired of waiting hours for transport home. Mum did not want me travelling alone because she worried, but someone older had previously explained the route to me. One day, I decided: “All right, I’ll try.” A train from Kraków to Krzeszowice, enormous stress, watching every stop, wondering whether I should get off now or not yet. Eventually, I got off, saw a familiar place, reached home and opened the door with my own key. I was so mentally exhausted that I lay down and fell asleep practically fully dressed. My family could not contact me, and everyone began to panic, until Mum entered my room and found me sleeping safely at home. For me, that was one of my first big moments of: “I can do it.” Later, trains became more normal. Once, I even fell asleep and missed my stop. I was angry with myself, but next time I paid closer attention. That was how I learned independence: through trial and error, without doing everything perfectly.

TECHNICAL SCHOOL, THE MATURA, BOARDING SCHOOL, WORK AND ENTERING ADULTHOOD

After lower secondary school came technical school, and things became much harder for me. Studying began to weigh on me mentally. Family problems were still in my head, alongside conflicts, emotions and the feeling that practically all I heard was: “Study, study, study.” School from Monday to Friday, and when the weekend arrived, my thought was: “Hooray, finally a computer, a game and some peace.” Yet there were still assignments, preparation and more responsibilities. It was not that I disliked developing myself. Quite the opposite: when something interested me, I could observe, analyse and learn for hours. The problem was that the school’s way of learning overwhelmed me. Games, anime, action films, comedies, dramas and sometimes romances were a much more natural way for me to rest. I mostly avoided horror films because they could make me too stressed.

There were also some very intense conflicts at technical school. In one situation, a problem involving someone in my class began to escalate. Teachers and the school management found out, and then my family were called in. When I saw Mum and my brother, I felt that someone had acted behind my back, and I immediately exploded. I shouted, used strong language and said I had had enough and was quitting school. When the headteacher tried to physically stop me and grabbed my arm, I became even angrier because I did not want anyone touching me in that state. Looking back at myself today, I can say that my behaviour was not good either. I was overwhelmed and felt hurt, but that does not mean every reaction I had was right. I stayed away from school for about two weeks. Later, my emotions settled and I returned. This is exactly the kind of story I do not want to tell from only one side. I felt that parts of the situation were unfair, but I could cross a line myself too.

I also decided against taking the matura, the Polish school-leaving examinations, the first time around. Someone in my class said something like: “Why are you giving up? You’ll regret it one day.” I replied that I knew, but I simply could not manage to focus on everything any longer. After a week of school, I wanted to come home, play, rest, watch something and do my own things, rather than sit over yet more study materials. At that point, I simply rejected the matura. Years later, I regretted it a little. I realised that even if I had not immediately gone to university, having the examinations behind me could have kept that possibility open for the future. Around the age of 23–25, I tried returning to the matura. I passed some examinations, narrowly missed the pass mark in mathematics, and found Polish particularly difficult. Eventually, however, I closed that chapter. Today, I do not want to build my self-worth around whether I have the matura or not. I know that I can also learn independently.

Until around the age of 22, I was still attending a post-secondary school connected with IT. During that period, I combined school, boarding accommodation and work. Sometimes I returned to the boarding house at one, two or three in the morning. I remember a member of staff complaining about me. Exhausted, I told her directly that I had been working and was angry and worn out. When she understood the situation, she apologised, and later we learned to get along better. I told her when I would return late, and she understood that I was not doing it for fun. One morning, I woke at about 7:20, thought I would lie down for a little longer and fell asleep again. Later, someone woke me. I looked at the time: 7:59. My only thought was: “Oh, fuck.” Clothes on, running to class, sitting there almost asleep. Sometimes teachers saw that I was exhausted after work and let me rest for a while. This was not a polished adult life. It was learning responsibility through exhaustion, mistakes, work and doing it all again the next day.

This was also when I began really learning about money. Between 18 and 22, I received maintenance payments from Dad, alongside a social disability benefit and income from work. At home, a conflict arose over whether I could work and keep the benefit at the same time. Mum was very afraid that working would make me lose it, while I did not simply want to give up my job. I wanted to find an answer: could I legally work and keep the benefit if I stayed within the rules? I asked other Deaf people, searched for information and tried to read the regulations. Tools like today’s AI did not exist then, so one person would tell you one thing, another would tell you something else, and you tried to work out the truth yourself. It was one of my typical moments: “There must be a key somewhere. I just haven’t found it yet.”

There was also a moment involving the bank and money when I began to understand that not all financial matters had been managed in the way I had understood them. I learned more about the benefits and Mum’s access to the account. I became angry because I felt that I had not known the whole truth. I began asking various people questions, then went to ING with someone who helped me with communication, codes, passwords and understanding the basics. Today, I see that situation more broadly. At the time, my main thought was: “It’s my money. Why don’t I know what’s happening?” Only later did I begin to understand that Mum might have been trying to save something or plan for my future. Meanwhile, I was very stubborn and could spend money without much thought. Food, a computer, equipment, a trip, another thing. Saving was often left until “later”. Today, I sometimes look back and think: “Hubert, you could have built a pretty decent financial cushion from that.” But I cannot turn back time. I can only behave differently with the next money I receive.

After finishing my earlier school, I also tried a photography course in Leszno. It was a hearing environment, and my old problem returned very quickly: people were speaking, I did not understand everything, and I needed an interpreter or another solution that was not available then. I attended only a few times and left after a short period. Later, there were also formal problems with the school and a court case. I accepted some responsibility myself and disagreed with other parts. There was a financial penalty of around 2,000 złoty, an appeal and more stress. Eventually, I closed that matter. Photography did not disappear, though. I began teaching myself through materials, observation and practice. I do not call myself a professional photographer. I simply enjoy creating and discovering new things.

INTERNATIONAL SIGN, TRAVEL AND THE WORLD OPENING UP

Around 2017, I began learning International Sign. The beginning was genuinely difficult. A video conversation with a stranger, unfamiliar signs, a different signing style, and me watching and thinking: “What are they actually signing? What am I supposed to reply?” A female friend helped me, then someone from Algeria. During the first six months or year, I practised a great deal. At that time, I estimated that I understood perhaps 30%. I did not give up. A camera, a new person, another conversation, another misunderstanding, another attempt. In 2026, I have around nine years of experience. I estimate my ability at roughly 60–80%, depending on the person and situation. That is no official certificate, just my own impression. What matters most is that today I can communicate more freely with Deaf people from different countries. That is when being Deaf stops feeling like the world is closed and becomes something that can connect me with people in completely different places.

Around 2019 came my first really important independent trip abroad: to Italy for an international Deaf event. Mum worried and did not want me to go alone, but I wanted to find out whether I could really manage. Before the journey, I was nervous. Once the plane took off, a smile appeared, along with the thought: “All right, Hubert. Now you really are doing this yourself.” There, I met people from different countries and used International Sign. I had to manage my own money, food, plans and time. I also learned that spending in euros can eat through a budget very quickly. Sometimes you have to choose: another excursion or a rest on the beach, an attraction or keeping money for later.

I also remember a very simple story about an octopus from that trip, and it still makes me laugh. My food arrived. I looked at the plate: the head, the arms, the whole thing was visible. My first reaction was: “No. No chance.” A friend from Hong Kong said it was very good. I asked several times whether he was sure. I stared at the plate as if it were an opponent in a game. Someone asked whether they should take the dish away, and I said: “No, wait. I’m building up my courage.” Half an hour passed. Eventually, I took a tiny piece, almost the size of a pea, put it in my mouth, chewed and suddenly thought: “Oooo… good.” The people beside me began laughing: “See!” And all I could say was: “All right, all right. You were right.” That little scene shows my character very well. First, I analyse things for a long time and feel afraid to try. Then I make an attempt, and only through my own experience do I decide what I really think about something.

At the same event, I met people from Hong Kong and China. China was somewhere I had dreamed about as a child, when I was roughly 10–12, although I do not remember my exact age. Back then, I asked my family whether we could go there one day, but was told it was too expensive. In 2019, a real opportunity suddenly appeared. I bought a flight, arranged a visa and flew Kraków–Amsterdam–Hong Kong. More than eleven thousand kilometres from home, many hours of travel, my first time in Asia, and the feeling: “I’m really here.” Hong Kong made an enormous impression on me. The buildings, technology, pace of the city, people: everything looked different from Europe. It was a period of protests, and I saw traces of chaos, but I had not travelled there to get involved in other people’s political conflicts. I was a traveller, observing the place and wanting to discover it.

Then came Macau, for just one day. Today, I regret staying so briefly because the place made a strong impression on me. It looked like a mixture of luxury, gold and a film. That was where I wanted to make a jump from around 233 metres. At the time, the price was about 1,200 złoty. My heart said: “Jump.” My budget said: “No.” I knew that I needed money for the rest of my journey through China, so I denied myself that attraction. It hurt at the time, but today I see that it was a sensible decision. Still, I continue to think: “Maybe one day I’ll return and do it, if I still want to.”

China stayed with me most strongly. I cannot point to a single reason. Its scale, culture, modernity, the appearance of the cities, the way of life and the feeling of a completely different world from Europe all made an enormous impression together. Later came Egypt, my first major encounter with Africa, then Mexico and another continent. Yet not every journey automatically meant happiness. In Mexico, part of my time was emotionally difficult because of the situation in my relationship. That was when I really understood that even the most beautiful place does not automatically make you happy. You can have a beach, a hotel, sunshine and a new country, while still feeling pain inside.

Today, travel remains an enormous part of my plans. Peru is a more concrete future destination, Chile is possible too, and Japan and Australia remain looser dreams for later. I do not want to force myself to plan the next ten or twenty years now. I would rather see what will genuinely be possible. One journey can change the next three. A new project might appear, or an entirely different life. The future does not have to be mapped out precisely today.

FRIENDSHIPS, RELATIONSHIPS, TRUST AND THE HARDEST MARATHON OF MY LIFE

Over time, I learned that I do not need hundreds of friends. I prefer one person or a few people with whom there is real reciprocity. For about fourteen years, I had a very strong bond with someone I prefer to call Gateplay publicly. Eventually, I ended that relationship myself after feeling betrayed. I no longer remember every detail, and I will not invent details just to make the story more dramatic. Today, Lowisko is an important person in my life. What I appreciate most is that even when a conflict or argument happens, we can later return calmly to the conversation and work out what actually happened. To me, a good relationship does not mean there are never problems. It means both people still want to resolve them.

There were also times when I saw old friends, said hello, and someone turned away or ignored me. In the past, that could affect me deeply and leave me wondering what was wrong with me. Today, my approach is simpler: if someone does not want contact, I will not force it. I also do not want to sit in a group where two people talk to each other, I understand nothing, and I feel like a fool sitting beside them. A relationship should have respect and some reciprocity. Money does not matter much to me here. You can be rich or poor, but if we have nothing to talk about and no proper communication between us, money alone will not create a meaningful bond.

I have had three relationships with women. I do not want to turn them into a huge public chapter and describe every situation, because that is a private part of my life that I now consider closed. There was love, good moments, travel and plans. There were also problems, disappointments, a lack of reciprocity, pain and things that strongly influenced my later boundaries. I do not want to build my whole story around my ex-partners. What matters most to me is what those relationships taught me: how easily you can give someone too much control over your own decisions, and how much it hurts later when you begin to notice that the other person can freely plan their life while you increasingly give up things that mattered to you. Today, I do not want to return to that arrangement.

The worst period of adulthood was not one event. It was a real marathon of problems piled on top of one another. A relationship, betrayal, arguments, housing, finances, friends, lack of trust, depression, document problems and the feeling that wherever I turned, another difficulty appeared. At one point, I had had enough of the situation in Leszno. I packed everything I owned into my car and drove away. A computer, clothes, belongings: the car was full. I did not want to listen to another argument. For around three days, I slept in my car near a forest. I did not want to eat or talk to people. I had no normal place to live. Today, when I remember that, I sometimes ask myself: “How was I even functioning?”

Later, a friend let me stay with him near Wrocław for about two weeks before another place to live could be found. Mum helped financially, and Lowisko also helped search for a solution. On top of that came losing my passport, phone calls, the police, returns to Leszno, more money spent on fuel and journeys, conflicts with people, loans, money not being repaid and increasing distrust. I do not want to turn my website into a courtroom and write that Hubert was one hundred per cent good and everyone else was bad. I reacted very harshly myself. There were arguments, pushing and behaviours that I do not consider good today. I was in a very bad mental state, and many people were making mistakes at the same time.

Between roughly 2015 and 2023, I also experienced very serious mental health crises. There were periods of suicidal thoughts and suicide attempts. I received psychiatric care, and there were times when I genuinely could not see any way out. I do not want to describe methods or details on my website. They are not necessary to understand my life. What matters more is that today I see that version of Hubert as a person from an entirely different chapter. Today, I am no longer in that place. Of course, the problems did not magically disappear. But more often, I can stop and think: “Things are bad. All right. What is the next step?”

Then came one of the biggest financial losses of my life. For about two years, I believed a story involving a huge prize and repeated payments that were supposed to lead to the money being released. Every time, it was: “Just pay this as well, one more step, then you’ll receive everything.” You think: “Since I’ve already paid so much, perhaps I really am close.” I was not. By my calculations, I lost around £25,000 in total. It was not only the money that hurt. It was also knowing that I had been drawn in and had believed for too long that next time I would finally recover something. Today, I am much more cautious about promises of easy profit, suspicious people and anything that requires another payment “just to release the money”. It was one of the most expensive lessons of my life.

THE UNITED KINGDOM 2024–2025 — 99% BLOCKED

Another major chapter began on 10 April 2024. The United Kingdom was supposed to open up a new life for me. The first moments brought joy, but very quickly my immigration status complicated everything. From 10 April 2024 to 10 December 2025, the struggle lasted about one year and eight months. A refusal, an appeal, a tribunal, documents, psychotherapy, difficulties being able to work normally, dozens of CVs sent out and silence. I could not freely plan journeys. I could not attend important Deaf events that I really wanted to experience. There were illnesses, fever, coughing, several problems with my foot and the feeling that practically everything was blocked.

Loneliness hurt the most. Yes, I could contact Mum by phone and video, but sometimes a camera cannot replace a person beside you. You want to come home, see someone close to you, sit down, talk normally and feel warmth and safety. That was badly missing during that period. I was so overwhelmed that I could even argue with Mum, who was the very person trying to support me. The problem was that I was already mentally exhausted, and everything was beginning to irritate me.

Several times, I genuinely wanted to give up on the United Kingdom and return to Poland. My thoughts were: “Why am I doing this? It’s a merry-go-round. Nothing changes.” But someone once said something like: “You might have 1%.” I think that was when the part of my character that has long refused to close a door completely, if it can still see even one small possibility, spoke up. I thought: “All right. Let’s see about that 1%.” One more document, one more question, one more attempt. Eventually, my status was granted. There was no grand film moment of: “HAHA, I’ve won at life.” It felt more like: “Oh, damn… after almost two years, the door really has opened a little.” It was not sudden happiness and the end of all problems. It was a small light after a very long shadow.

2026 — WHO I AM NOW, MY BOUNDARIES AND THE PEOPLE AROUND ME

Today, I am 29. I am Deaf, I still play League of Legends, I am creating ArzteliaDujo, learning website design, writing a book and planning more journeys and challenges. I still have many ideas, sometimes too many. I can begin one thing, see another and immediately think: “Ooo, that looks interesting too.” Then a third idea appears, and only later do I realise: “Hubert, slow down. One thing first.” I am still learning that. I am sensitive and can get upset quickly. Sometimes I am very serious, sometimes a complete clown. Sometimes I want people around me; sometimes I only want my room, my computer and everyone to leave me in peace. I am not perfect, and I no longer want to pretend to myself that I should be.

One of the biggest changes concerns my boundaries. In the past, I accepted other people’s decisions much more easily, especially when someone was older, stronger or spoke with great confidence. Today, I do not want to obey simply because someone says: “You’re weak”, “You’re worthless”, “You’ll never amount to anything”, or “You must do this because I know better.” I can listen to someone. If they are right, I can eventually say: “All right, you really were right about this.” But if I sense manipulation, disrespect or an attempt to control my entire life, I no longer want to accept that endlessly. I still sometimes react too emotionally. I can explode, insult someone, then cry or take a long time to calm down. I am not pretending that I have suddenly become a Zen master. But increasingly, I am learning that a conflict does not have to last for hours. I can say: “This doesn’t work for me”, end the conversation, leave and give myself time.

I react most strongly when my need for communication is ignored. I do not need everyone to know perfect sign language. If we understand each other well through speech, let us speak. If signing is easier, let us sign. If we need to write, let us write. Polish, English, a phone, a gesture, whatever works. The most important question is: are you genuinely trying to communicate with me? If I sit with people for an hour while everyone talks among themselves and I am effectively just an extra person at the table, I quickly become frustrated and think: “Why am I sitting here?” Then I would rather leave than pretend that I am having a wonderful time.

Today, my closest bond is with Mum, although we could also have huge arguments over the years. For a very long time, I did not accept her partner either. Mum tried to tell me that he was a calm, good person, while internally I replied: “No.” I did not want to accept that someone else could be beside Mum after her divorce from Dad. Over time, however, I began observing how he actually treated her. Was he aggressive? Did he hurt her? Was he calm? Could he help? After years, I saw that he behaved calmly, could resolve problems normally and did not do what I had feared most. In 2026, I can say: “All right. If Mum is happy with him and he respects her, I accept this relationship.” Of course, I have a very firm boundary concerning violence towards her. But the presence of a new partner itself is no longer something I automatically reject.

With Dad and my brothers, the situation is completely different. Dad and I have barely seen each other for several years, and today I do not feel a need to force the relationship to be rebuilt. I do not want to pretend there is family closeness simply because someone is biologically related to me. At the same time, I do not want to erase the fact that Dad had good qualities too. For example, he taught me to drive very strictly. Reversing was difficult for me. I became stressed and cried, and my first practical driving test did not go well. Dad could push me very hard, but that was also how I learned some things I struggled with. I passed my category B driving test on the second attempt and later gained category C as well. I planned to get C+E, but at the time, influenced by a relationship, I let it go. Today, I regret that a little. It also taught me something important: another person’s decision should not automatically become my decision.

Mum’s health remains my biggest worry. I see how life and illness can take away a person’s sense of control much more powerfully than any game, money or journey. I would like to do everything I realistically can to support her and help her have as much life ahead of her as possible. I cannot pretend that her cancer does not frighten me. It does. In other situations, I can look for a document, a solution, another job or a plan B. Here, I have no simple key. That is precisely why it is so emotionally difficult for me.

LOL, SHAOLIN, CHALLENGES AND THE FUTURE

League of Legends has been with me for a long time, and I think it will remain part of my life for a long time to come. I can take a break for a month or two. Sometimes the game might bore me, but then I return. Again, I look at the map, analyse tactics, see a mistake and wonder why an opponent caught me and how to do better next time. For a long time, I have also had a dream somewhere at the back of my mind of joining a real club and team environment one day. I do not want to call myself a professional when I am not one, but I do not want to reduce the entire story to the label “amateur” either. I am more interested in the opportunity to enter a real environment and say: “I’m new. Show me what training, communication, preparation, pressure and teamwork look like.” I would like to see how I really react when the game stops being something in my own room and becomes something shared with a team.

My next major goal, however, is Shaolin in China. The cost of training and accommodation turned out to be higher than I initially expected, so finances are particularly important now. I want to go precisely because physical fitness has been one of my weaker areas since childhood. I could call my younger self a “weakling”. I am not a professional athlete, and that is exactly why I want to find out what happens if I genuinely train for a month. I do not know whether, after three days, I will think: “What have I done?” or whether, after a month, I will say: “I want more.” That is why I am going: to find out how my body and mind actually respond, beyond what I imagine.

I am not interested in martial arts so that I can walk down the street pretending to be the most dangerous person around. I want better control of my body, reactions, distance, confidence and basic self-defence. What would be most valuable to me is learning how to prevent a dangerous situation, how to withdraw, how to protect myself and how to stay calmer when a real threat appears. I do not want to look for fights. I want more tools than panic or an outburst of anger.

One of my biggest possible future projects remains cycling around the world with a dog. To me, that is not a two-week trip. I think about years, different continents, heat, cold, mountains, breakdowns, problems, beautiful places and moments when I will suddenly need to stop and say: “All right, Hubert. What now?” It is the difficult part that interests me. It is not about deliberately seeking death or risk. It is about testing myself in the real world, where everything cannot be planned.

I also think about very high mountains, even the possibility of Everest. But here, I want to be particularly cautious. I am not saying: “I will definitely climb it.” I am saying: “Maybe one day, if I spend years gaining experience, fitness and knowledge, and still want to do it.” Everest is not somewhere where stubbornness alone is enough. A wrong decision there can cost a life. So it is not a present-day plan, but a very distant possible dream. Smaller mountains, experience and safety first. A decision can come later.

I do not know where I will be in five or ten years. Perhaps I will already be travelling around the world, perhaps I will be trying something with a LoL club, perhaps I will be developing more projects, or perhaps life will change in a completely different way. In fifteen or twenty years, perhaps I will have a family of my own and entirely different priorities. I do not want to pretend today that I know the future. In the past, I often wanted everything mapped out precisely. When the plan fell apart, I could fall apart too. Today, I am learning a different approach: a plan can die, but I do not have to die with it. If A does not work, I look for B. If B does not work, perhaps C. Sometimes all the way to Z. And if even Z does not work, perhaps I need to invent an entirely new alphabet.

LIGHT, SHADOW AND WHAT REMAINS

One of the things that has changed most as I have grown older is my approach to smiling and happiness. I do not want to put on an artificial smile in every photograph simply because that is how life is “supposed” to look. If something genuinely works out, a surprise happens, I see a new country, meet someone who interests me, achieve a difficult goal or suddenly discover something I did not know before, the smile comes by itself and is real. If I am having a bad day, I do not need to pretend that everything is fantastic. Parties have never been the most important thing to me either. I can go, meet people and enjoy myself, but I am not someone who needs a wild party to feel alive.

Today, my greatest strength is not physical. My fitness still needs work, and that is one of the reasons Shaolin interests me. My greater strength is probably that I can return to things that matter to me. I can get angry, take a break, lose, make a mistake, say “I’ve had enough”, and sometimes leave a goal untouched for a very long time. But if it still sits in my head, eventually the thought returns: “All right… maybe one more try.” That has happened with games, travel, my immigration status, projects and many other things. I am not always quick. Sometimes finding a solution takes a genuinely long time. But the fact that I try to find the key once again is probably one of the most characteristic things about me.

If I had a teleporter and could return to Hubert at 10, 16 or 20, I would not want to relive the violence and the worst family moments. I would rather tell my younger self that not every relationship will stay, not every person needs saving, and you do not have to obey simply because someone speaks more loudly. But you do not have to respond to every problem with a war either. Sometimes the best decision is simply to leave. I would also tell my twenty-year-old self: “Don’t spend everything like an idiot.” That would be very practical advice too. Above all, however, I would want to say: “You don’t yet know how much of the world you’ll see. You don’t know how many people you’ll meet, how many times your plans will fall apart, or how often you’ll have to start again.”

Today, life seems faster than it did then. Childhood could feel like endless time. Now, a year can pass surprisingly quickly. Every day can bring something new: a person, a conflict, a journey, a mistake, a solution, knowledge, an idea, another piece of the puzzle. That is why I really like the puzzle metaphor. You can have almost the whole picture, but five hundred pieces are missing, and without them you still do not know what you are actually looking at. Sometimes you need patience. Sometimes you need one key. Sometimes it turns out that the door you spent a year trying to open is not a door you should be walking through at all.

I do not want to pretend that one day I will reach a moment when everything is only light. Life does not work like that. Another shadow can always appear. Illness. Loss. A problem. A mistake. A person. But even in the shadow, a small thing can suddenly appear and change something: a message, a new person, a journey, an opportunity, a game, a document, an idea or a solution I could not see before. I no longer need the promise that one day everything will become perfect. I just want life to remain open enough for me to keep moving.

I AM HUBERT

I am Hubert Dudoń. Deaf. A gamer. A traveller. A creator. Someone who can be very calm and can also explode. Sometimes I am serious; sometimes I behave like a complete clown. Sometimes I need people, and sometimes I need four walls, a computer and silence. I have good qualities and bad qualities. I have made mistakes I regret. I have also done things I am genuinely proud of. I do not want to end by writing: “I overcame everything”, because life is still happening. I am 29, and I do not know how many chapters are still ahead of me.

I do not know whether I will really cycle around the world one day. I do not know whether I will manage to enter professional esports in League of Legends or Rocket League. But I have greater hopes for LoL: that is the path I care about more. I do not know whether I will ever stand on a very high mountain. I do not know how my website, books, travels, finances, relationships or my whole life will change. I do not even know whether the goals I consider my biggest today will still matter most to me in ten years. Increasingly, I accept that I do not need to know.

What I do know is that I want to keep discovering the world, learning in my own way, creating, playing, travelling, trying things that genuinely interest me, setting boundaries where they are needed, correcting mistakes when I recognise my own responsibility, and keeping hold of the direction of my own life. If someone has good advice, I can listen. If someone is genuinely right, I can admit it. But I want to understand for myself why I am choosing a particular road.

And if one day I am no longer here, I would not want the most important thing to become how I died. Whether through old age, illness, an accident, while travelling or somewhere completely different, nobody knows that today. I would rather someone look at the whole journey: the child from Kraków, the school for Deaf children, sign language, a computer, games, the first independent train journey, Italy, Hong Kong, China, family problems, crises, sleeping in a car, lost money, almost two years fighting for immigration status in the United Kingdom, projects, Shaolin, more journeys and dreams that perhaps even I do not know about yet.

Remember me not for how I left, but for how I lived — curious about the world, stubborn, Deaf, free and always looking for the next road.