My Story
A journey of leaving, losing, and coming home to myself
A Story of Remembering
I moved from Romania to Luxembourg as a small child.
My parents were seeking freedom, a better life.
But for me, the integration wasn’t easy.
To feel accepted, I began to turn my back on my own roots—
my language, my culture, my blood.
Without realizing it, in trying to belong,
I had begun to abandon myself.
My parents worked tirelessly to build a life for us.
They came with good intentions—
but also with wounds they hadn’t faced.
I grew up feeling that simply being me… wasn’t good enough.
Love had to be earned.
And so, I began to perform—quietly, consistently, intensely.
To be seen, I had to strive.
To feel loved, I had to be excellent.
This became the rhythm I lived by:
the drive to always do more, be more, prove more.
And still, never feel good enough.
I became good at being alone.
I began to disappear inside myself—
learning that the only safe space
was solitude, achievement and perfection.
I walked through life with a kind of independence that looked strong—but was built on protection.
Solitude became my safety.
Distance became my shield.
Perfection my way of being seen.
The further I moved from home,
the more I could breathe.
I didn’t yet know I wasn’t running toward something.
I was running away from pain.
To be loved, I performed.
To be safe, I silenced.
To fit in, I disconnected.
“The moment everything broke…
was the moment everything began.”
The Fall
By 2019, I had spent years in survival mode.
Driven by an inner voice that always said: not enough, do more, be more.
I had lived in Paris, in Los Angeles, in New York, in Norway, in Berlin
—each move taking me farther away from the pain I couldn’t name.
And then… 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.
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.”
So I did.
I turned inward.
I began to sit in the fire of everything I had avoided.
The Descent and the Rise
What followed was not a return to who I was—but a descent into who I truly am.
Not a single moment of awakening, but years of remembering.
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. Nature. Wholesome food. Silence.
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.
My intuition, long buried, began to return.
I found myself moving, choosing, and acting more intuitively—guided by something deeper than logic.
A quiet voice within, long silenced, began to rise.
My inner compass.
My soul.
My heart.
She said:
“Trust me. Let me guide you.”
And for the first time… I did.
“I chose to stay.
And everything changed.”
The Feminine Called me Home
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, authentic, wild, creative, intuitive,
rooted in my power, whole.
I began 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.
This was the missing piece. The doorway.
The homecoming.
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…
The Jungle Remembered me
And eventually, when I was ready the plants called.
The Amazonian jungle in Peru marked a sacred turning
point on my path of transformation.
Under the care of a trusted Shipibo curandero and his family,
I entered dietas with sacred plant teachers.
Among the numerous powerful plants I encountered,
it was Ayahuasca and Marusa (a feminine master plant)—
whose teachings brought the deepest healing,
remembrance, and realignment to my path.
What followed was not gentle.
Ceremony after ceremony, 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.
I could feel myself land in the sacred temple of my body.
I felt connected, radiant, whole… not because I had become someone new, but because
I was finally safe enough to be who I always was.
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,
the playful one,
the compassionate, loving one.
And through this remembering,
I began to find myself.
Layer by layer.
Truth by truth.
The jungle became my mirror.
The plants—my guides.
The ceremonies—my sacred initiation.
And for the first time,
I saw myself with love.
Since then, my work with the plants has deepened—whether in the jungle or in Europe, the path continues to unfold.
Each encounter, each ceremony, each moment of stillness brings me further into truth.
It is not finished. It is alive—growing, humbling, and guiding me home again and again.
The Feminine Called me Home
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, authentic, wild, creative, intuitive,
rooted in my power, whole.
I began 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.
This was the missing piece. The doorway.
The homecoming.
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…
“Not the woman I was taught to be.
The woman I was born to remember.”
The Practice of Becoming
Still, the most sacred part of the journey arent the breakthroughs.
It’s what comes after.
The integration.
I had to learn again and again, how to walk with what I received.To stay close to what was unfolding.
To carry the truth, not just in my mind,
but in how I lived, moved, and met myself.
Step by step, I returned.
Layers shed. Masks dissolved.
Every time I said yes to myself—
in silence, in rest, in in the rawness of feeling—
I remembered.
The wisdom in my body.
The quiet strength in my womb.
The truth that holds me steady.
Even now, I am still remembering.
Integration is my practice of self love.
It looks like ritual.
Nature. Nourishment. Play. Meditation.
Stillness. Breathwork. Tears. Laughter.
Healing doesn’t happen all at once.
It happens in a thousand quiet moments
where I choose to stay.
To feel.
To begin again.
My Devotion
My fall in 2019 wasn’t the end—
it was a threshold.
A sacred turning point that
led me back to the truth of who I am.
The inner work continues.
And still, I keep saying yes to myself—again and again.
But now, I walk with roots in my essence and with wings on my back.
I move with grounded clarity, guided by the compass of my heart.
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.
This is not a profession.
This is my devotion.
My purest expression.
My soul’s work in the world.
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.