My Story
A journey of leaving, losing, and coming home to myself
Between Two Worlds
I was three when we left Romania—
my parents longing for freedom,
a life shaped by choice instead of fear.
In Luxembourg, parts of this new land met us with distance.
Integration came with pain.
Racism. Rejection.
Not always loud—
but deeply felt.
I learned quickly:
to be safe, I had to become someone else.
So I let go of my roots—
my language, my culture, my blood—
not out of shame,
but out of longing to belong.
Over time,
I began to resent where I came from,
believing others were better.
And in trying to belong,
I abandoned myself.
I didn’t know it yet, but this was the first layer of a wound that would grow for years: the wound of self-abandonment for the sake of being accepted.
The Unseen Child
My parents worked tirelessly to build a life for us.
They came with good intentions—
but also with wounds they hadn’t yet faced.
They didn’t know how to offer the kind of love
that holds, listens, and allows a child to feel safe.
My mother cared in her own way—
but it came with pressure, control, and correction.
Whatever I did, it was never quite good enough.
She always knew better:
what I should wear,
what I should say,
who I should be.
Our home didn’t feel calm.
It was filled with tension,
raised voices,
fights that made my little body shrink.
And so I began to retreat.
I stopped expressing.
I stopped choosing.
I stopped reaching out.
This was the moment I began to disappear inside myself—
learning that the only safe space
was being alone
and staying silent.
My father—
with whom I’ve always felt a deep, unspoken connection—
cared for me with all his heart.
A sensitive, wounded man
carrying pain far older than me.
He loved me. I know that.
But I longed for his grounded presence—
for his protection and direction.
Between Two Worlds
My parents worked tirelessly to build a life for us.
They came with good intentions—
but also with wounds they hadn’t yet faced.
They didn’t know how to offer the kind of love
that holds, listens, and allows a child to feel safe.
My mother cared in her own way—
but it came with pressure, control, and correction.
Whatever I did, it was never quite good enough.
She always knew better:
what I should wear,
what I should say,
who I should be.
Our home didn’t feel calm.
It was filled with tension,
raised voices,
fights that made my little body shrink.
And so I began to retreat.
I stopped expressing.
I stopped choosing.
I stopped reaching out.
This was the moment I began to disappear inside myself—
learning that the only safe space
was being alone
and staying silent.
My father—
with whom I’ve always felt a deep, unspoken connection—
cared for me with all his heart.
A sensitive, wounded man
carrying pain far older than me.
He loved me. I know that.
But I longed for his grounded presence—
for his protection and direction.
The Safety of Being Alone
Somewhere along the way, I learned that being alone was safer.
When I wasn’t loved and seen for who I truly was,
when our home was filled with tension and unrest,
when I abandoned parts of myself just to belong—
my body made a quiet decision:
it’s safer not to need anyone.
And so I learned to walk through life with a kind of independence that looked strong—
but was born from protection.
I stopped asking.
Stopped expecting to be held.
I began to carry everything by myself.
Solitude became my safety.
Distance became my protection.
The further I went from home, the more I could breathe.
Not knowing yet that I wasn’t running toward something—
I was running away from pain.
I kept moving, kept doing, kept proving…
And I wasn’t even aware that I was lonely.
Being alone had become my normal.
But underneath it all,
my soul was still whispering—
I want to belong.
I want to be held.
I want to come home.
In relationships, I could love deeply.
I could open.
But the moment things got too close,
my body would quietly signal: you need space.
I needed air.
I needed freedom.
I needed to travel, to move, to explore—
because staying still, staying in,
often felt like I was suffocating.
That part of me that always had one foot out the door—
not to run away,
but to survive.
Seen only in Perfection
At four, I was placed in dance school.
It became my escape—
the only place where I could feel truly myself
and be accepted,
because I was good at what I was doing.
Here, I received the praise,
the approval,
the being seen—
everything I was quietly longing for at home.
Inside, quite unaware, I was lonely.
But this recognition gave me something to hold onto.
And so began a quiet pattern—
of striving, excelling, perfecting—
to feel worthy.
To feel loved.
I didn’t know it yet,
but this was how I began to equate love with performance—
believing that to be loved,
I had to be perfect.
Running from Home
At nineteen, I left.
After three years in Paris,
I moved to Los Angeles.
The farther I went,
the freer I felt.
I needed space from my mother’s voice,
from the cage of never being enough.
Dance was the only thing that had kept me alive.
So I followed it.
Professionally.
Boldly.
The industry was ruthless.
Every audition a test.
Hundreds of women.
Few roles.
One moment to prove your worth.
My nervous system couldn’t hold it.
I began to black out in auditions.
My confidence broke.
Two years later I quit.
And with it came the old ache:
You failed.
You are not good enough.
Chasing Worth
Survival mode had taken over completely.
Always doing more.
Always pushing harder.
Just to feel a little bit worthy.
I didn’t stop.
I couldn’t.
That voice—the one that had kept me going all my life—told me to keep moving.
So I did.
I moved to New York.
I entered architecture school.
And I told myself:
This time, I will not fail.
I gave it 200%.
Days without sleep.
Nights immersed in wild, imaginative worlds of experimental design.
Living in school.
Living in adrenaline.
And again—success came.
Awards. Praise. Recognition.
But I was only proud of myself
when I was right on the edge of collapse.
That was when I felt most alive.
Because I didn’t yet know
how to feel alive in stillness.
In softness.
In simply being.
The beautiful Escape
In the middle of it all, I found techno.
I found drugs.
I found nights that never ended.
And for the first time—
I touched something I didn’t even know I was missing:
Connection.
Not the kind you have to earn.
Not the kind that judges or grades.
But a raw, wordless communion.
My heart opened.
My dance became intuitive.
No longer performance—
but soulful connection.
The beat carried me deeper into my body,
into my subconscious,
into the untamed waters of my soul.
But like all escapes,
this one didn’t last.
The highs became cravings.
The cravings became habits.
The habits became chains.
And underneath the connection,
the disconnection quietly grew.
Mirrors of my Wound
I didn’t know it at the time,
but the men I was calling in were not random.
They were reflections—
mirrors of the wound I was still carrying inside.
I kept attracting men who mirrored my father:
sensitive, yet lost. Addicted. Unable to commit.
Present, yet unable to truly stay.
And I kept projecting my mother’s voice onto them:
“You’re not enough.”
I judged them. I tried to fix them.
I worked hard to be loved by them.
But it was never really about them.
I was still trying to earn love.
Still trying to prove my worth.
Because deep down,
I didn’t yet believe I was worthy of being loved as I was.
I was still seeking love outside of me—
through men, through striving, through perfection.
And in doing so,
I kept leaving myself behind.
I didn’t yet fully choose me.
Each relationship became a mirror—
showing me the places I still hadn’t come home.
The Patterns Repeated
Then came Norway.
A new place, a new degree, a new chance to prove myself.
But something in me already knew
— my energy was no longer endless.
My body was quietly warning me.
Still, I didn’t listen.
I gave it everything.
Again.
Long nights. Intense projects. Perfectionism dressed as passion.
Parties to escape, drugs to feel,
and a mind that never let me rest.
My body whispered.
Then trembled.
Then screamed.
No more period cycle.
2-3 hours of sleep/night.
Moments of paralysis…
Still, I kept going.
Finished with honors.
And then—I CRASHED.
The Fall
June 2019. My entire system collapsed.
This wasn’t just burnout.
It was breakdown. Complete.
Mind. Body. Soul.
I felt like I was on the edge of losing my mind—
a terror of daily panic attacks,
chronic anxiety,
depression,
uncontrollable crying,
deep confusion,
extreme physical exhaustion,
moments of disorientation—forgetting where I was,
insomnia,
and a body that wept without pause.
An existential crisis took hold—
one that made me question everything
I had once believed to be true.
And I was completely alone in it.
No one could understand.
No one could relate.
But somehow, in the middle of the wreckage,
something ancient inside me stirred.
A voice.
Faint, but steady.
It whispered:
“Now… we begin to look within.”
The Descent into the Self
I refused to numb the pain.
inside me—
a storm.
A roar of fear, confusion, and pain.
No clarity.
Only rawness.
So I sat in it.
Shaking.
Weeping.
Feeling.
Learning to surrender.
Intuitively, I began reaching for what felt nourishing.
Healing books.
Wholesome food.
Moments of quiet.
I learned to sit in meditation—
to witness my thoughts,
to let emotions rise,
to meet my body with compassion.
I started to listen.
To the whispers beneath the fear.
To the wisdom of my body.
To the voice of my soul—
a voice I had never truly heard.
No more noise.
No more pretending.
Just breath.
Stillness.
Food that healed.
Silence that held me.
And from that silence,
a new path began to emerge.
I wasn’t trying to escape anymore—
I was learning to trust.
It was so hard.
There were moments I thought I’d never make it through.
But I stayed.
And the quiet voice within—
the one I had pushed away for so long—
grew clearer.
My inner guide.
My soul.
She said:
“Trust me. Let me guide you.”
And for the first time…
I did.
The Feminine Called me Home
And then,
deeper questions began to rise—
not from my mind,
but from deep within:
Who am I, truly, as a woman?
What does it mean to be in my feminine strength?
Not the woman I had been taught to be.
Not the one shaped by striving and survival.
But the one I came here to be—
soft, wild, intuitive, whole.
I started to seek the ones who had walked this path before me.
Women who had found their way back.
I read their stories.
And something in me stirred. (not just because of their stories) the inner voice became more clear
This was the missing piece.
The doorway.
I knew deep down—
that the healing of my feminine was not optional.
It was essential.
The key to becoming a free woman.
To stepping into the fullness of who I am.
To walking the path that truly belongs to me.
So I began to listen deeper.
Not just to words,
but to my own body.
To the rhythm of my womb.
To the tides of my emotions.
To my heart
To the whispers of nature and
the voice of the earth inside me.
Through confronting my shadows
Commiting to my self care
Trusting my inner voice / compass
Saying yes to myself again and again
I reconnected the parts of me I had abandoned—
the innocent one,
the powerful one,
the deeply feeling one,
the ancient, wise one,
the magical, creative one.
And through this remembering,
I began to find myself.
Layer by layer.
Truth by truth.
Soft step by soft step.
I was finding my strength.
I was finding my way home.
The Jungle Remembered Me
My path was calling me into the jungle.
Ayahuasca`s whispers had been with me for some years.
But I waited—until I was truly ready to meet myself.
And when the moment came,
I followed the call—
into the heart of the Amazonian jungle.
My path of healing and transformation was leading me here—
to sit with sacred plant medicines,
to enter dieta with feminine master plants,
to step into the temple of nature,
held in deep ceremony
under the care of a trusted native Shipibo curandero—
and to remember who I am beneath it all.
These were the medicines my soul had been waiting for.
The jungle doesn’t flatter you.
It doesn’t give you what you want.
It gives you the truth.
Raw. Unfiltered. Sacred.
Ceremony after ceremony,
confrontation after confrontation—
the jungle unraveled me.
The plants stripped me down,
not to hurt,
but to heal.
To reveal what was hidden.
To bring me back to what was real.
It was not all revealed at once.
This path is not a shortcut.
It is a devotion.
A step-by-step return
to the places I had abandoned.
Each time, I went deeper.
I saw my pain.
My patterns.
My protectors.
But I also began to feel
what I thought I had lost forever—
The primal spaces of love,
of safety,
of magic.
Compassion. Unity.
Inside my body.
With the Earth.
With the cosmos.
The jungle became my mirror.
The plants—my guides.
The ceremonies—my sacred initiation.
And for the first time,
I saw myself with love.
Landing in my Essence
Through Ayahuasca and the dieta with the feminine master plant Marusa,
and through my commitment to myself over years
the healing of my feminine sank into my bones.
It was not a concept.
It was an intimate, cellular remembering.
Step by step, I felt myself return.
Layers shedding.
Masks dissolving.
Until I landed—fully, deeply—into the essence of who I truly am.
I remembered how, as a woman,
I can feel myself from within—
not through effort, but through surrender.
Not through striving, but through being.
I began to trust my body as wise.
To soften into the sacred rhythm of feminine consciousness.
To feel the primal confidence rising from my womb,
anchoring me in truth.
And with every ceremony, every silence, every meditation, every act of self love, every paiful confrontation
I remembered what it means to be one with the intelligence of nature—
to belong,
to flow,
to radiate my authentic self,
not as something to prove,
but as something I am.
Integration: Where Healing Becomes Real
I had to learn—again and again—that integration isn’t what comes after the healing.
It is the healing.
After each breakthrough came the quiet space where life asked:
How will you carry this forward?
Some days I felt soft and alive.
Other days—tender and undone.
Most days, it was both.
I had to slow down.
To listen.
To trust what was still unfolding.
Integration became my practice of self love—
of building safety inside myself,
and meeting my body with presence.
It looked like rituals.
Nature. Nourishment.
Movement. Stillness.
Tears. Laughter. Silence.
It meant letting go of doing it “right”
and learning to walk in rhythm with who I was becoming.
Because this is where healing takes root.
Where remembering becomes embodied.
Where the sacred begins to live in the everyday.
My Why, My Work, My Devotion
My Burnout in 2019 didn’t just break me.
It initiated me.
It brought me to my knees
so I could finally hear my soul—
so I could remember the woman I came here to be.
It stripped away everything I thought I had to be,
until I stood closer to truth than I had ever been—
the quiet, fierce, sacred essence of who I am.
The inner work continues.
The devotion deepens.
But now, I walk with roots in my essence—
and my offering flows from there.
I am here to guide women back to themselves.
To the voice in their womb.
To the love in their heart.
To the truth they’ve always carried.
This is not a profession.
This is my deepest devotion.
My purest expression.
My soul’s work in the world.
I said yes to myself again and again.
I’ve fallen in love with being a woman.
I’ve fallen in love with meeting my deepest shadows—
knowing that there is always a greater light beyond.
I walk with grace.
I hold my power from within.
This is the woman I am today.
And this is the woman I speak to—
the one who feels that quiet longing…
to come home to herself.
To reconnect.
To release.
To rise.
You don’t have to be fully ready.
You don’t have to be fearless.
You just have to listen to the part of you that whispers…
it’s time.
I’m here, when you’re ready.
My services
I’m here to guide you through a journey of healing and self-discovery. Throughout our work you will feel safe, heard, and understood. My services are designed around your unique needs and goals. Sessions may be one-time consultations or part of ongoing weekly or monthly support, enabling you to move forward at your own pace.
I am looking forward to embark upon your journey together <3
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One on one healing support
From my heart and experience I create a safe space for your to embark on a profound journey of introspection and self-care, opening up to the beauty of the yet uncomfortable inner processes taking place.
Committing to yourself, you will transform pain and fear into strength, love and wisdom - reconnecting with your authentic self.Click here to read more -
One on one healing support & coaching
From my heart and experience I create a safe space for you with the aim to guide back home - towards empowerment, self love and your intuitive self - Where love, deep self honor and strength reside. We will journey into the depths of your inner ocean to remember who you are, how to flow with the natural rhythms of your being, becoming the light you are meant to be. Click here to read more -
Conscious Dance, as I guide it, is a magical blend of sound, guided meditation, mindfulness, and dance.
From my heart and understanding with deep inner work and dance, I create immersive soundscapes and guide deep meditations that gently invite you to connect to your body and explore depths of your subconscious, where you rediscover your inner magical home and learn to safely befriend all parts of yourself. Moving to the rhythms of your inner expressions becomes a profound journey of inner exploration, connection and healing. Click here to Read More
Who do I work with?
You, If You’re Facing Burnout - you can also call it mental, emotional, physical exhaustion
If your are searching for a mindful way through your process, back to strength, purpose, and balance, I’m here to guide you.
Women Ready to Reclaim Their Inner Power
If you’re a woman wanting to live more in tune with your authentic self and feminine wisdom, this journey is for you.
You, If You’re Drawn to Dance as Healing
If you feel called to explore the transformative power of dance, I’ll guide you in using free-flowing movement, sound, and deep meditation to reconnect with your body, and embark on a journey of inner exploration, healing and self-discovery.
Those Seeking to Discover Themselves
If you’re ready to explore who you truly are and uncover your inner strengths, let’s dive into your journey together.
You, If You’re Seeking Healing
If past pain is weighing you down, I provide a nurturing space to release, heal, and grow with compassion.