This isn’t a sad story — it’s a turning point
I’m not sharing this to get sympathy.
This isn’t one of those stories where everything falls apart and you’re supposed to feel sorry for the person telling it. I’m sharing this because something shifted. And maybe—just maybe—it might help something shift in you too.
What I want to show is this: you can change your mindset. And when you do, your whole life starts to move with it. If you’re ready to ride the energy of change, I hope there’s something here you can carry with you.
Nothing I say here is new. I’ve learned from books, research, therapists, coaches, and amazing people around me. I’m just telling it in my own way, in my own words.
If this hits home—if you feel seen or even just a little bit moved—say hi in the comments. Follow me. Or send a message. We need more spaces that make room for change.
The deepest loss that became a breakthrough
Losing both my parents was the lowest point of my life. And weirdly, it also became the start of something new.
I often think about people who never got to know their parents. And then I feel grateful. I had 38 years with them. Still too short—but we had time. We had love. That love stays with me. I carry it every day.
Therapy helped me move through grief. But coaching? Coaching was what unlocked something deeper. At 38, the puzzle pieces started to click. That’s when I began living my life—on my terms.
I discovered my superpower: laughter. Real energy. And I want to use that to help others move toward something better—toward freedom.
🎧 Julianapark, Schiedam
It was the first year after my mother passed. I was walking outside, earbuds in, listening to a podcast. The speaker was talking about his dad, who died during COVID. He said:
“Life goes on. I just want my dad to be proud of me.”
Right then, I broke down. Middle of the park. Tears everywhere.
That day, I made a quiet promise to myself:
I will make myself proud.
And I will make my parents proud—in everything I do.
🔗 [Listen to the podcast here — the moment my mindset shifted forever.]
Even now, four years later, when I listen back, I still tear up. But not because I’m grieving. Because I’m proud. Because I’ve changed.
A dream on paper — and the beginning of freedom
A few months after my mom passed—September 2021—we took our first family vacation again. We went to Spain. COVID rules were easing. It felt like a breath of air.
That promise I made in Julianapark? It started to grow roots there.
I was reading Think and Grow Rich by Napoleon Hill. One of the exercises said:
“Write your dream down and say it out loud every morning—ten times. Eventually, you’ll start believing it.”
I took it seriously. Maybe even too seriously. But something inside me knew:
This is the beginning of something big.
Here’s what I wrote:
By the time I’m 45, I run a business that helps people move from fear to freedom. It earns me 15 million euros. I drive a black Porsche 911 GT3. Black rims. Gold stripe.
And yeah—back then, I thought it was all about the money. Because I believed that if I had that, my problems would disappear. That I’d finally feel free.
That dream? I still think about it. I keep refining it. Because money can do a lot—but it’s not what I’m really chasing. Freedom isn’t a number. It’s a feeling. It’s how you live.
What freedom really means to me
We say we live in a free country. But how free are we, really, if we have to ask permission to take time off? Schedule joy weeks in advance? Plan spontaneity?
During our world trip in 2023 and 2024, I felt real freedom again. For the first time in years.
And I don’t want that to be a rare thing. I want it to be my baseline.
So let me ask you something
Thanks for reading my story. Really.
When was the last time you paused and asked yourself:
Why am I doing what I’m doing?
PS. This is part one of my personal story. In part two, I’ll share how this inner shift changed my professional life completely. How I spent years chasing management roles, wondering, why isn’t this working, even though I’ve got the degree, the skills, the drive?
Spoiler: it wasn’t the degree that was holding me back. It was something deeper. Something I only found once I dared to look inward.
Want to know when part two drops?
Subscribe I’d love to keep you in the loop.