My Story

I never thought I would be climbing mountains…

And for the record, I haven’t. Not any mountain that qualifies as mountaineering anyway. It’s a metaphor of course.

A metaphor that tells you something about how hard I have found life at times. But also, one that tells you something about how beautiful I find life to be once a challenge has been overcome. You see, the view from the top of a mountain is worth every difficult step up any steep and slippery mountain side, be it accompanied by sharp sunshine, pouring rain, snow, or stiff winds.

But let me go back a bit.

I became a Buddhist in my early 30s and in 2017 I went on my first pilgrimage to Nepal and India. I have been to the Himalayas nearly every year since then. None of the trips I have done so far have been planned trekking or hiking trips, yet somehow, I always find myself trotting away up a hill side in intense heat or through tricky woods. Because there is a monastery up there or some holy, spiritual site that we absolutely must see. And it is always worth it: the views, the beauty of the nature and the temples, the peace these places instil in me. I come back down a little bit changed every time.

And it has been on these minor unplanned but increasingly more difficult ‘walks’ in the Himalayas, that I have come to realise that I have been climbing mountains most of my life. Sometimes skilfully, and sometimes not so skilfully. Three of those not so skilful times I ended up in professional burnout. Yes, three times.

The first time I burned out was in 2016.

I was in bed for two months, incapable of doing anything. My brain was blank, and I was constantly tired. When I went back to work, I strategically took a step back from everything. I worked slower, I volunteered less, I practiced setting aside my fears of what would happen if everything was not done perfectly, I practiced letting go. I leaned into my addiction recovery tools and found comfort in the spiritual aspect. That is how my first Buddhist pilgrimage ended up forming part of my first burnout recovery process.

The second time I burned was in 2019.

I think trying to let go so much at work and override my perfectionism slowly pushed my fears of ‘everything collapsing’ into overdrive – and my emotional response was anger. I was angry at everyone and everything. But this time I saw it the burnout coming! Ha! I applied for leave and left for the Himalayas to meditate and recalibrate, possibly come up with a new career. The year was 2020. And I think the irony is obvious. But it is not Covid-19s fault that I didn’t take my own advice and changed my job. That was on me.

After eight months of leave, I returned to work during the second European lockdown, determined not to complain and argue and just do my job and live my life. Not having anything good or positive to share with my colleagues unfortunately drove me into isolation, and the chaos of returning to an entirely remote workplace combined with a reputation of being competent in everything, left me overwhelmed and insecure. I broke down quickly a couple of times before I gave up and settled with not caring.

Unfortunately, living life was difficult to implement in 2021, and in the end my body gave up. I got a shoulder injury related to my dominant arm, and by the end of the year I had horrible pain every day somewhere in my body. I was constantly exhausted, could never get enough sleep no matter how much I slept, couldn’t concentrate, experienced memory loss and eventually suffered crippling panic attacks every time an e-mail dinged in my inbox.

In May 2022, my GP sent me on sick leave with burnout for the third time.

Now, some might think that going on sick leave then relieves the pressure, and you start feeling better. For me, however, I had to slide a bit further down the mountain side before finding foothold again. I was basically in bed for three months. Once again incapable of doing anything. And when it started to light up a bit, I was overwhelmed with fear and grief. This time I HAD to change jobs, and I didn’t know how or to where or to what. I had to sit with that for a long time before I could start making my way back up the mountain. It was one of the loneliest experiences I have ever had.

This is where coaching came in for me.

When I felt strong enough, I started working with a coach with the goal of making a career change. Neither he, nor I had any idea it would take us around a lot of tears and desperation whilst resolving an identity crisis more than actually figuring out what I wanted to do. But my coach is certified and knows how to hold space, lean into what his clients need and ask the right questions at the right time. My idea of who I am transformed and my longstanding dream of really being of service to others became visible from my camp spot on the mountain:

‘My aim is to create the space for the other person to make a qualified decision by easing whatever fear might be present, clearing up confusion, and, if need be, by helping to clarify facts. When I contribute to or enable another being to make decisions (big or small) to change their life for the better, I feel truly useful.’

That is how my coaching journey began.

That is how I became a guide who leads a client up the mountain, through the woods and up the barren cliff, to conquer small peaks or high peaks, supporting you when you feel challenged, sometimes really challenged, waiting for you if pain or fear arises, and cheering you on to reach the top of freedom and amazement, and see the view and the world and yourself from a different vantage point, realising how vast it all is and how amazing you are.

When nothing is sure, everything is possible.

Earlier this year (2024) I went on my most challenging trip to the Himalayas to date, a journey into the little Kingdom of Bhutan where wealth is not measured by Gross National Product (GNP) but Gross National Happiness (GNH).

The trip took me on a 6 km long trek through the woods and a climb of 900 height metres up and down a said amount of 700 steps to the famous Buddhist monastery called Tiger’s Nest, resting at an altitude of more than 3 000 metres – on an ancle that I had twisted badly only eight days prior. I was able to do it because my heart was in it, because my travel group was my biggest fan club, and because I had a guide who literally held my hand the entire way, one step at a time. With help, we can do anything.

I remember that as I contemplate my next Himalaya-trip. And meanwhile I lean on my long-time mentor, a woman who has stood by me for nearly 10 years now, on my mentor coaches, and on my coaching communities (my fan clubs), the Crocus Collective and the Balanceology Coach Hub, to make sure I get safely up my next mountains.