It all began with a postcard from Mozambique — sent by my great-uncle on one of his trips. His cards and stories stirred something deep in me: a fascination with faraway places, invisible histories, and the quiet forces that shape us.

I was born in Berlin and grew up in East Germany during the 1970s and 80s — between the city and early years by the Baltic Sea. My childhood unfolded within both tenderness and rupture: early loss, the rigidity of school life, the political upheaval of the late 1980s, and the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989.

One morning, I woke up inside a new system with foreign rules and values, leaving behind dreams and friendships. I learned to read the room. To listen to the stories that don’t shout. To move between worlds. To keep going.

Even then, there was a quiet calling: “There must be another way.”

That whisper grew into wanderlust — that carried me across continents. In the early 1990s, I left Berlin and built a life across London, Melbourne, and now Cape Town. 

I’ve walked paths that led from corporate boardrooms to inner wilderness, from lonely departures to quiet homecomings. I stood at crossroads and walked through thresholds — they became my teachers: loss, uncertainty, heartbreak, exhaustion, reinvention, and the silent space of questioning.

Time and again, I left behind what no longer fit, without knowing what the next yes would be. I arrived by challenging the status quo — gently but persistently.

In those dawning moments, the hardest thing wasn’t pushing forward — it was stopping long enough to learn to listen what’s true beneath the noise.

My international corporate career allowed me to work across cultures, manage high-profile events and teams, travel across the world, and navigate the spaces between structure and freedom.

After 13 years in London, I boarded a one-way flight to Cape Town with no plan — only the knowing that something new had to take root.

In 2012, coaching found me. It gave language to what I had felt for years: people don’t need to be fixed — they need space to hear and feel themselves clearly.

Since then, I’ve trained internationally in multiple coaching approaches and woven what I learn directly into my practice. It’s shaped by 25+ years of living and working across cultures and over 1,500 hours of coaching with clients worldwide.

Today, my work brings together what I love most: travelling, researching, learning, and sharing.

My early survival strategies were sharp: perfectionism, control, intellectualisation. They kept me moving — but left something essential untouched. Beneath the success was unprocessed grief, personal and inherited.

Everything shifted when my body began speaking truths my mind couldn’t find words for. I began reading, studying, and experimenting. I turned toward somatic practices — not just as a client but eventually as a practitioner-in-training — and slowly began to come home to myself.

In 2022 and 2023, a cascade of losses — my grandfather, my partner, my best friend — cracked everything open. Grief — which I only came to truly understand during this time — became my teacher. It clarified what matters and stripped away everything that didn’t. This was an immersive season of study and practice — not to collect labels, but to integrate my experience and heal. I trained in the work I needed most. And the answers unfolded when I stopped performing for safety. 

The most crucial lesson has been this: self-awareness and social awareness are the ground everything else rests on. Knowing who we are and what we stand for — our direction, strengths, and shadows — gives us that ground. Without it, prolonged stress erodes even the strongest resolve. With it, we can anchor in our truth, let go of what no longer serves, and meet life with clarity and courage.

Wisdom doesn’t come from thinking alone. It comes from noticing, from living.

Today, I am a woman shaped by deep listening, by silence and poetry, by land and language, and by the longings we don’t always know how to name.

I speak the language of seasons, elements, and thresholds — places where change reveals itself slowly.

Photography and creative expression are my ways of seeing more honestly. I live attuned to nature’s rhythm — to solstices, equinoxes, inner tides.

What looks like reinvention has always been a return — to what aligns now.

Change that lasts doesn’t come from striving. It comes from quiet strength, sustainable steps, and remembering what we’ve always carried within us.

These years have shaped me into the person and coach I am today. The path hasn’t been linear, but it has been honest. And that has made all the difference. 

My work lives at the intersection of intellect and intuition, structure and soul.
I walk with others as they learn to trust their own wisdom and rhythm.

I believe in moving gently, breaking patterns with compassion, and trusting that even in the hardest seasons, something wise is unfolding.

And so, I walk my talk — with soul, integrity, and wonder.
Always learning. Always listening. Always becoming.