I still don’t understand how I made it through from September to December.
But I did.
Because being strong — that’s what I was taught.
So it became normal.
Surviving became normal.

What kept me going in the meantime?
The thought of the United States.
In September and October, I was there again — where I feel spaciousness and my body can breathe.
Out on those wide roads, in that breathing landscape, in the rough gentleness that's in the air.
America, that always reminds me of what freedom can feel like — and of who I might become.

What if life suddenly became yours to live?

07/24/2025 — 5 min. read

BURNOUT — VISIBILITY — SHOWING VULNERABILITY

What if I spent years living a life that wasn't mine?
But the life I thought I was supposed to live? The life I hàd to live?
What if, suddenly, it all falls away?
What if you shift from surviving to living
and are given the freedom to create everything in your own way?
And what if, in that freedom, you lose yourself completely?

I look in the mirror.
I see fine lines. Fatigueness.
A heaviness I've carried for months.
I see fear. Fragility. Brokenness.
I see survival.
And I wonder: now what?

But I also see something else.
A spark.
A flicker of zest for life.
And the feeling: there's still so much worth being here for.

The past 6 months have been fucking hard.
I don’t even know how I ended up here.
Maybe it began in 2021, the moment I told myself:
“This can’t go on.”
For the first time, I opened up to getting help.
I never had done that before... because I thought I could handle everything alone.

Layer by layer, I began peeling away the parts that weren’t mine.
I began to lose pieces of myself — sometimes consciously, sometimes simply because they no longer stuck.
Masks. Roles. Protective layers. Trauma. Pain.
And with every layer shed, a shift began.

So I made a decision: 2024 will be my year.
Something in me said: it's time to fly. Time to live again, on my terms.
I embarked on all those wild dreams I’d held so long.
A solo camper trip in Europe for the first time.
I explored a new continent by plane on my own in Fall 2023, so why not?

But once the worst was over, I kept going.
Because that’s what I always did. Pushing through.
I thought: I can handle this.

Little did I know —
that by Christmas 2024, I’d crash completely.
My body said: this is enough.
No more excuses. No more tricks. No more pushing through on willpower alone.
The days became foggy — both literally and metaphorically.
Time dragged and flew, all at once.

Maybe you recognize something of yourself in my story. Maybe not. But if you’ve ever felt like you were living your life on autopilot, know this: you’re not alone. And finding your way back to yourself is always possible. Even if it’s slow. Even if you lose everything along the way for a while.

"I started peeling off things, layer by layer — masks, armor, coping mechanisms, trauma."

Until 2022, I’d been living out a script that was never mine.
One shaped by expectations, by how life was supposed to look.

There was a break-up. For the first time, I was truly on my own: living alone, carrying everything myself.
Every choice, every responsibility — all mine. While still trying to process everything that had broken inside me.
And not long after, the death of my ex-partner.

Those two blows cracked something wide open within me.
They forced me to pause. To feel. To grieve.

And somewhere around december 2023, I felt that something had come to rest inside me.
Not everything, but something profound had shifted.

I went looking for fulfillment, outside of my job.
I pushed myself physically. I wanted to grow. To do bold things.
I opened my heart to love again. I started dating again.

I became visible... and that sharpened everything.
As if my nervous system suddenly had nowhere left to hide. Everything came in. Everything struck a nerve.

"Something in me said: it’s time to fly. Time to live again, on my terms."

"People began to truly see me. And for the first time, I started to feel: I am lovable."

I let myself be seen... and that opened everything.
Because people started to see me.
Not for what I did, but for who I am.

I felt it coming in January. By July, it was undeniable.
Connections, mirrors, love,... So many beautiful reflections.
And then something shifted:
I realized... I’m lovable.
Not by doing, not by fitting in, just because I am.

That realization was like a wave: warm, intimate, overwhelming.
My system couldn’t handle it.

Around my 35th birthday, in August 2024, my body shut down.
I was sick for a month. The IBS symptoms that had been tagging along since 2017 took the lead.
My body pulled me down — quite literally — to the raw core of pain and exhaustion.

"My body said: it's enough. No more excuses. No more pushing through on sheer will."

I’ve peeled away so many layers.
27 — maybe more — coats, masks, protections.
I suddenly find myself standing naked in life.
People look straight through me.
And me? I have no idea who they see.
Let alone how to let them in — to meet this real, unguarded version of me.

I’m here. Without layers. Without a filter.
And that’s as raw as it is new.

"What kept me going? The States. That’s where I feel spaciousness, where I can exhale."

Picture text = "I can't do this is dead" in Dutch

Tattoo quote = "Because if you feel, you heal" in Dutch