My Story
A journey of leaving, losing,
and coming home to myself
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.
Navigating a deep split—between where I came
from and where I landed— I began to disconnect from
my roots: my language, my culture, my instinct.
Without realizing it, out of longing to be accepted,
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.
I learned to please. To adapt.
To become what I thought was wanted.
To be seen, I had to strive.
To feel loved, I had to be excellent.
To avoid rejection, I stayed silent, agreeable, contained.
This became the rhythm I lived by:
always doing more, being more, proving more.
And still, never feel enough.
I became good at being alone.
I began to disappear inside myself—
learning that the only safe space
was solitude, achievement,
perfection, and pleasing.
I walked through life with a kind of independence
that looked strong—but was built on protection.
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.
A Story of Remembering
“To feel enough, I kept performing. To feel loved, I chased perfection.
To feel safe, I silenced my voice. To fit in, I became who they needed me to be.”
The Fall
I poured myself into what I could control—
into movement, into excellence, into doing more.
Dance became a refuge.
Later, it was architecture school.
Always chasing a sense of worth.
And always moving.
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 Hamburg, 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, deep confusion,
extreme physical exhaustion, insomnia,
and a body that wept without pause.
I couldn’t cope with the world around me—
I was bare meat. Everything was too much.
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 moment everything
broke…was when I began
to remember who I am.”
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.
Scared. Crying. Feeling.
Learning to surrender.
Intuitively, I began reaching for what felt nourishing.
Healing books. Nature. Healthy 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 responding from a deeper place.
Not from logic, but from a quiet knowing inside.
A voice I had silenced for so long…
began to rise again.
The voice of my soul.
My heart. My womb.
My inner compass.
She said:
“Trust me. Let me guide you.”
And for the first time… I did.
“I chose to stay,
and everything started to change.”
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 I felt it in my body—
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.
To the rhythms of my cycle.
To the tides of my emotions.
To my heart, tender and wise.
To my womb, the center of creation and knowing.
To the whispers of nature and the ancient voice
of the earth that lives inside me.
I began to remember the feminine—not as an idea,
but as a deep, living presence within me.
A way of being. A way of walking. A way of loving.
The Jungle Remembered me
And eventually, 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.
It took courage to sit in the ceremonies of my own becoming,
to let the jungle mirror back all I had forgotten.
And through the unraveling I began to return to myself.
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 have always been.
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 was coming home to myself—
more and more.
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 an ongoing journey— alive, growing, humbling.
It is a sacred relationship—one I hold with deep reverence.
The Practice of Becoming
Still, the most important part of the journey aren’t the breakthroughs.
It’s what comes after. The integration.
Whether it arrives through a plant ceremony, breathwork,
meditation, or a moment of deep emotional release—
I’ve had to learn—and continue learning—
how to walk with what I receive.
To stay close to what is unfolding.
To carry the truth, not just in my mind,
but in how I live, move, and meet myself.
In my choices, in my relationships.
Integration is where healing takes root.
Where truth becomes embodied.
Where transformation becomes a way of life.
It looks like self love rituals—
spaces of honor I create for myself.
Time in nature.
Nourishment that truly feeds me.
Journaling. Nurturing music.
Playing guitar. Singing.
Laughter that opens.
Tears that cleanse.
Breath that anchors and resets.
Stillness where I come home to myself.
It looks like dancing with my emotions.
Letting them rise. Letting them speak.
Being curious instead of scared.
Meeting every part of me without judgment—
with tenderness, as if I were holding my own child.
Slow steps. Gentle pace. No rush.
Only presence, permission, and love.
Letting the magic unfold—step by step.
Healing doesn’t happen all at once.
It happens in thousands of quiet moments
where I choose to stay.
To feel.
To begin again.
“Healing is the quiet art
of staying, of feeling,
of beginning again.”
My Why,
My Work,
My Devotion
My crash 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.
From my heart.