I was born during a war. Bombs were flying around the hospital when my mother brought me into the world. She ran with me in her arms and didn’t stop until she found safety. We ended up here, in the Netherlands.

As a refugee child, I carried the weight of having to fix a broken past without even knowing it. So I did everything I thought I was supposed to do: first in my family to graduate from university, a successful legal career, the notorious rat race.

Then my body said enough.
Burnout. Insomnia. Depression. Anxiety.

What followed was two years of finding my way back to myself. I immersed myself in meditation — every method, every practice, every book I could find. And somewhere in the depths of that stillness, I noticed something: breath was at the centre of everything. That’s when breathwork found me. Or maybe I found it. Either way, something clicked, and the two practices merged into the foundation of my own healing.

So I started over. This time as myself. The girl who wanted to act, to perform, to express, to connect.

People tell me I have a calming presence, a calming voice. I think that’s because I know what it takes to stay steady when you think your life is falling apart. I’ve been there. I found my way back through the breath, and I’ve been sharing that ever since.

Every experience I’ve lived through has shaped my capacity to hold others. So that when you’re in it — whatever it is — you don’t have to carry it alone.