Hi. I’m the person whose body called bullsh*t — repeatedly — until I finally listened.
Over the years I’ve been hit with a little bit of everything: multiple car accidents, heart issues, mobility problems, burnout, spiritual detours that turned into dead ends. If there’s a body breakdown, I’ve probably had a front-row seat. And because no doctor, guru, or protocol ever handed me a clear answer, I became my own crash-test dummy.
I taught myself — the science stuff, the woo-woo stuff, the “what actually works” stuff. I read, researched, experimented, failed, tried again. Physical and metaphysical, mainstream and fringe. Decades of trial-and-error, connecting dots nobody else even put on the same page.
I’m not a credentialed expert. I’m a real-life expert — the kind who had to figure it out because there wasn’t another choice. Everything here is field-tested: by my nervous system, my scar tissue, my hospital bracelets, and my stubborn curiosity.
I taught myself — the science stuff, the woo-woo stuff, the “what actually works” stuff. I read, researched, experimented, failed, tried again. Physical and metaphysical, mainstream and fringe. Decades of trial-and-error, connecting dots nobody else even put on the same page.
I’m not a credentialed expert. I’m a real-life expert — the kind who had to figure it out because there wasn’t another choice. Everything here is field-tested: by my nervous system, my scar tissue, my hospital bracelets, and my stubborn curiosity.
And then, three years ago, I added another plot twist: I moved from the Netherlands to Mexico. First Puerto Vallarta, and more recently to a ranch in the mountains of Jalisco — Mixtlán. Out here I’m surrounded by cows, adobe, and the kind of silence that forces you to hear your own thoughts. No convenience stores, no quick fixes, no escape from the rawness of life. Just me learning how to build, mend, and adapt while bumping up against huge cultural differences in values, rhythms, and ways of living.
Why Mexico?
Because I spent my whole life in the Netherlands feeling like I didn’t belong. For twenty years, I stayed in a relationship with someone who didn’t share the same longing I had to live elsewhere. When we split up, I finally followed the call of my heart. That decision became a massive part of my healing. Turns out, living in the wrong place — ignoring what you know deep down you need — can wreck your health as much as any car crash or burnout.
So alongside the health stuff, you’ll also see my observations: what it’s like to trade Dutch efficiency for Mexican mountain time, what I learn from working the land for the first time in my life, and the culture shocks that keep me humble (and occasionally swearing at myself in two languages).
Because I spent my whole life in the Netherlands feeling like I didn’t belong. For twenty years, I stayed in a relationship with someone who didn’t share the same longing I had to live elsewhere. When we split up, I finally followed the call of my heart. That decision became a massive part of my healing. Turns out, living in the wrong place — ignoring what you know deep down you need — can wreck your health as much as any car crash or burnout.
So alongside the health stuff, you’ll also see my observations: what it’s like to trade Dutch efficiency for Mexican mountain time, what I learn from working the land for the first time in my life, and the culture shocks that keep me humble (and occasionally swearing at myself in two languages).
This space? It’s not a polished brand. It’s not a five-step plan. It’s me throwing the scraps of my experiments, mistakes, half-truths, and occasional aha’s onto the table. A kind of map I wish someone had handed me years ago — except mine is stitched together with sarcasm, duct tape, and a refusal to sugarcoat.
Here’s what you’ll find around here:
Here’s what you’ll find around here:
- Experiments too messy for Instagram but too real to keep to myself.
- Long rants disguised as blogs (you’re welcome).
- Playful journal stuff — doodles, prompts, random side quests. Because fun matters, even when life looks like a dumpster fire.
- Weird insights that sound like nonsense until they suddenly make sense.
- Cultural observations from a Dutch wanderer dropped into rural Mexico and trying not to look completely clueless (spoiler: I often fail).
If you’re an overthinker, perfectionist, or card-carrying member of the “I’ll start tomorrow” club — congratulations, you’ve found your people.
And if you’re also the person who keeps showing up at the doctor’s office with “mystery” symptoms, who’s been told it’s all in your head, who’s tried the pills but still doesn’t feel like yourself — you’re my people too. I’ve been there: years of not getting answers, feeling like a medical shrug emoji in a paper gown.
This website exists because I want you to know there’s hope. Not a magic pill, not a one-size-fits-all cure — but real hope. Small, weird, practical things you can experiment with. Ways to start hearing your body instead of fighting it. Proof that you’re not broken or crazy.
I don’t have answers tied up in bows. What I do have is honesty, experiments you can steal (or laugh at), and living proof that sometimes falling apart is just another way of putting yourself together.
So… welcome. Bring your mess, your skepticism, your curiosity. Borrow what works, ditch what doesn’t.
We’ll figure it out. Not perfectly — but honestly.
XoXo
Mariska
And if you’re also the person who keeps showing up at the doctor’s office with “mystery” symptoms, who’s been told it’s all in your head, who’s tried the pills but still doesn’t feel like yourself — you’re my people too. I’ve been there: years of not getting answers, feeling like a medical shrug emoji in a paper gown.
This website exists because I want you to know there’s hope. Not a magic pill, not a one-size-fits-all cure — but real hope. Small, weird, practical things you can experiment with. Ways to start hearing your body instead of fighting it. Proof that you’re not broken or crazy.
I don’t have answers tied up in bows. What I do have is honesty, experiments you can steal (or laugh at), and living proof that sometimes falling apart is just another way of putting yourself together.
So… welcome. Bring your mess, your skepticism, your curiosity. Borrow what works, ditch what doesn’t.
We’ll figure it out. Not perfectly — but honestly.
XoXo
Mariska