you know that moment?

you know that moment

when the success you want and need is not coming

and you hardly have the faith to put in the word “yet”

because you tried so hard

en still there is this feeling you haven’t done enough

didn’t try hard enough

and still you feel so tired

where has the energy gone?

you know that moment?

when the success of others hurt, even though you’re so happy for them

when you begin to think that all that you thought you could do is somehow washed away

I used to go down from here to thinking I wasn’t worth anything at all

I don’t do that anymore

but I feel the pain of not seeing any of my efforts and plans live up to anything

and this is where it counts

the not giving up

the back to the drawing  board

same goal, other road

and I can do that

because I have someone who has complete faith in me

She is my inner fan

the only problem is

that she doesn’t really much care where it is that I end up.

She thinks the world of me anyway.

so she’s not much help as an adviser.

but she’s here

and that is what counts

I am going to sleep

maybe cry a bit, I do that

and then I will read this in the morning

and I will go on


And yes I know, I should not write this now. I should wait till I’m successful, and then write about this as a been there done that, but fuck that!

Breakthrough call

You know?

Sometimes it happens, getting stuck, not being in touch with your intuition.

Most of the times it’s because you are overstimulated, it will go away.

Sometimes it doesn’t.

Go away I mean.

And that’s because you are ready for a breakthrough.

There are always things you are hiding form yourself. And you already discovered so many of them.

Now is the time to discover some more.

Bit the problem is:

you are way beyond anything you can learn form online programs,
you are way beyond any form of regular coaching.

There is a reason you haven’st discovered these thing yet: you hid them too damned well. (And well you should because you were not ready for them yet) You hid them behind layer after layer of clever hiding mechanisms, some of which even brought you your success.

I’m the expert on hiding mechanisms.

I can sniff them out.

Free call.

Make an appointment (no time slots, because no time limit)
+31621347469  (text only)

Being Trans and how it mindfucks me


  • a transwoman,
  • a man, but just very sensitive (and a love for womens cothing)
  • used to be a man but feels a woman now
  • always was a woman, just had the wrong body

What am I?

Please don’t say that I am the unique me. 

That’s right of course, but that doesn’t change the fact that the above keeps me busy (not just in my head, I cry a lot).

I have feelings I don’t understand at all !

I have been brought up as a feminist.

It was the seventies, my mother had a good job, my parents new a lot of friends who were a bit flowerpowery, my brother went to a social academy where women studies were the new thing, and on top of that I went to study in Wageningen which, although I started in 1980, had a very 60’s/ 70’s ambience: women groups, vegetarian restaurants, artfilms, the works.

I got tablespoons full of feminism.

One thing I remember about these women groups: I was so jealous I couldn’t join them. I felt that in those groups they would talk about things that really mattered. I new better than to ask to join; I also understood perfectly why they didn’t want men, however soft I was.

Today I went to a meeting about gender identity. I heard people talk about being genderfluid.  They pointed out that the old binary way to look at gender is a bit too restricted, pushing people into roles.

Complete in line with my upbringing,

Down with gender stereotypes!

And here’s the problem:

Because I really like the female gender umbrella. It makes me feel safe.

I’m torn apart because I like the very things that I learned to condemn as being too role confirming:

I like to get compliments about how I look. I like to dress up, do nails, make-up the lot.
(Not good: it’s not about looks. Women are always being addressed as pretty instead of e.g. intelligent)

I would love to be hit upon (a girl may dream)
(Not good: how dare you say this in the light of #metoo)

When I look back at my youth, it sometimes hurts that I never was a girl. For example, I would have loved to be more starry-eyed as a teenager, dreaming of rockstars.
I had a secret crush on The Beatles, Led Zeppelin and Ted Neely

(Not good: too much prince on a white horse fairytale stuff)

I loved the fact that, when I helped a friend move house, I didn’t have to do the heavy work.
(Not good: way too roleconfirming, but honest: I never was strong, especially not in my arms, and I did some heavy lifting, way above my capacity because I didn’t dare to refuse)

The list is long.

There are a lot of things I discover I really like.
I like female privileges.  (Yes I’m aware this is like having my cake and eat it)
For me, male energy always was doing something and I was NOT good at it.
My strength is being , and it feels to me more like womanpower. (correct me if I’m wrong)
I love my feminine side, or is that just being highly sensitive?

I love the female umbrella, I don’t want to play the gender breaking rebel.

And part of me feels guilty about that.

It’s part of the deal, my internal fan says


If I could choose my tribe

If I could create my own tribe I would belong to people who:

. . . have such a big inner world that you can get lost in there (and what a bliss that is)

. . . are easily overwhelmed by the beauty of the outer world (o my, it’s everywhere if you pay attention)

. . . are deeply touched by the beauty and courage of others

. . . are slow to open up (sorry, been hurt that way), but when they do, they do so completely, because all they want is connection

. . . have the courage to be AND feel who they are, even the nasty bits (because they all have the bits that they especially hate about themselves, and yet they are willing to put it out there, to face it, to learn to have compassion for it)

. . . want to change the world because it hurts seeing how the beauty in others is not seen and recognized, often not even by themselves

. . . want to shout out to the world: “OMG! you all need to see this! How can I find the words, the gestures, the images to tell you about this?”

. . .  have the guts to go out there and DO it



Where your mission collides with your loved ones

My daughter was coming over from her studies at Middelburg. A three hour train ride.

I had had a very busy day:

  • My first meeting with the psychologist form the transgender unit at the hospital.
  • Then a meeting with my aunt and uncle, who hadn’t seen me me as a woman yet.

Both went very well.

  • Then picking up my other daughter . . .

(who also spends this weekend with me: Bliss!!) 

  • Paying a short visit to a friend . . 
  • Driving home in the dark, in the rain . . 

By now I was pretty overstimulated. I found out that I actually hate driving in the dark. So I was glad to be home. 

And then: 

A message form my Middelburg daughter: “train delay! Gonna miss the bus. “

So there I went, back in the night, back in the rain, and NO IDEA where to park my car at the station for a quick pick up.

I parked my car, where it wasn’t allowed. Angry honking cars passed me by. And I waited. Completely frustrated, overwhelmed and all worked up.

So I texted this:

Pick up your Phone.
I am standig where it’s not allowed. Answer!!
Go past the busses, and walk out the station.
Leave Busses on your right hand side.

And there she finally was.

There and then I realized something.

My old reaction would have been hating myself, and feeling guilty, and ashamed, because of being so nasty. And of course, because of that I would have been even more unpleasant.

Let’s take this apart.

The hating myself bit is mostly about the shame thing.

Shame is feeling you have trespassed on a group value, combined with the fear of being cast out.
Guilt is knowing you have trespassed on a value you want to honour. 

Shame is thinking: “I’m such a lousy father¹. What will she think of me?”
Guilt is thinking: “Hm. I probably made her feel bad about needing to be picked up. I’m gonna make up to her for that.

My old reaction would be walowing in shame.

But hey.

I really did some work on these things the past year. Not only my transition, but also the high-level course on high sensitivity I’m taking.

So instead of shame I just felt some guilt.

And I could take that.

Because I could see it was the price a paid for this day. It was the price I paid for being highly sensitive.

Being highly sensitive is for better and for worse.

And now I could feel passion for my worse. I could feel passion for my nasty me.

So when my daughter stepped into the car, I said I was sorry, and I explained how I was overstimulated. And then we talked how this affected us both. And how it was part of our package of awesomeness.

On the way home I cried because I felt so connected with the wonderful woman sitting beside me.


Dear highly sensitive entrepeurs.

You’re brave and brilliant.

For better AND for worse.

Have compassion for your guilt.

There is your mission and there are your loved ones.

They will collide.

And both will survive the collision.

If you are able to avoid stepping into shame.

(If shame holds you back, contact me. There is some work to be done)


For the close reader:
Being worked up because of honking cars, was me feeling shame.
Hey, I’m no wonderwoman, who ditches all her shame with a flick of her hand.
















¹ Yes I’m a woman. But I will also always be a father


no funnels but just me

Starting something new, being stubborn. Throwing away all good online marketing advice.

But the way I figure is that I only need two people to watch this and fall in love with it.

Then they will send it to two other people, who feel the same.

Hey that’s doable, and I am lovable.

So here I go:


If you think it’s easy, you don’t care enough



You probably heard a lot that you cared too much.


You can never care too much!

You can care about the wrong things, but you are the judge of what those are.

By now you have learned that. 

And that took you a lot of trouble.

It still does.

I love you for that.

I love you because caring is your first nature.

It is what makes it hard to stand out.

It is what makes it hard to choose for yourself.

It makes every step of your wonderful journey so very hard.

It is hard because you care. It is hard because you let your heart stay open. It is hard because you stay in touch with your feelings; all feelings, including pain.

So please don’t listen to anyone who tells you that believing in yourself (or the universe) makes this all a walk in the park.

Don’t believe any kind of enlightenment that makes the pain go away.

Don’t ever think there is a THERE, and that being there will make everything alright.

These are all bypasses.

Yes, they work, but there is a price to be paid. You can feel great and courageous, blissful. You can even be successful this way. 

But you do this by shutting off your feelings.

So, there is only misery?

No of course not. Pain is not misery. Pain is just part of the deal, and so is joy. If you dare to feel the one, you are opening yourself to the other.

Please keep feeling.

Please keep caring.

Be Bold AND Sensitive

Be Outspoken AND Caring

That combination is what makes you smashing.

Being myself in connection with the world. This is how true power feels.

Five years ago I quit my job to make a solo theatre production.

The story element was about a girl I met in real life (I called her Natka in my play).

Natka skipped too many classes and, as a result, she was obliged to take a social skills training. I gave these training’s at the Time I met Natka. (Not the job I just quit. I have a history of quitting jobs)

One of the critical success elements of the training was that the kids had to form their own learning goals, so I asked Natka what hers were.

I have none, she answered.

And when I listened to her story I knew she was right.  This kid had nothing to learn from me.

Natka was brutally honest. And she took control of her life.

She didn’t go to the classes where she didn’t learn anything. Sometimes because she was way better than the rest of the class, but often because of the poor teaching skills of her teachers. 

“I learn more, studying my books, and asking others, then sitting in a classroom where nothing much happens besides the powerfight between the teacher and some pupils.”

My kids were the same age, and I heard the same things form them. I had been a teacher myself.  I knew enough about schools to believe Natka.

I admired her courage. The courage to step up for what she needed. The courage to make her own plan.

I didn’t want to teach her the skills to cope with teachers who clearly lacked them.

I told the justice department I would stop the training. They said I couldn’t, so Natka and I just had a few pleasant talks. She talked to me about her girlfriend, and how falling in love felt like.

This was when I just had taken a courageous step myself, but I still did not feel so sure about myself and my goals as Natka.  

So Natka became the center of my play. I put all my own insecurities in her girlfriend and called her Emma.


My play was about the tension between being sure of yourself, and being able to let the world in as well. I made two opposites: Bold Natka, fighting the world, and Sensitive Emma, overwhelmed by the world.

The funny thing is, that when I played Emma, I didn’t realize how literally I WAS Emma. I hadn’t yet discovered that inside I was a woman.

So last year, when I looked for a new name for myself, I knew I already played me as I was. I knew may name was Emma

And this year I realize I am Natka too.

I no  longer look up to the Natka’s in the world. I feel the power of Natka in myself.

I am more me than I ever was.

I have the power to be myself, AND to be in connection with the world.

I am Sensitive AND Bold.


(And thanks to my education I know how I got here too)

The art of crying

I’m not here to tell you that it is silly that men are not allowed to cry.

I don’t even want to tell you how ridiculous it is that when a woman cries, it is seen as a weakness.

We all know that, don’t  we?

Or do we?

When was the last time you cried in a business conversation?

And did you feel strong?

I cry a lot, since my transition, and it feels like a blessing.

My crying is not about feeling sad, mostly it’s about feeling so f*ng wonderful I can’t hardly believe it, and yes there are bits of grieve.

I also cry when I feel connection.

I cry when I speak to someone and I can feel the truth they are speaking out. 

I cry when I feel the power that lies within you and me.

So please, when we meet, don’t take my crying for a small moment of weakness. Don’t think it is because it’s all too much. It’s about feeling beauty, and beauty can never be too much.

I would dearly love to see us all crying more, and feel it’s strength, our strength.


Learning how to Talk

I have this Talk.

Not only a heartfelt story, but a story on multiple levels.

I hate one-dimensional stories. Always have.

I did this talk, and the reactions were great, so I new I got a winner.

But I wanted to make sure that I had no blind spots on being a speaker. I needed a coach to walk me through my talk.

But, here’s the problem. Not just any coach.

I don’t want to learn tricks of the trade, and I certainly don’t need someone that is going to straighten my oddities. My oddities are mine! I don’t want them to be straightened out. They are what make me brilliant.

In short, I neede someone I could trust.

I knew only one such person: Edo van Santen.

I worked a whole day with him, and I can tell you it was so much fun that only afterwards I noticed I had been working.  (I was exhausted)

The thing about Edo is that he LOVES your oddities. He knows that they are your assets. Working with him is learning to have the courage to bring out the you-est in you. And that’s how you will shine.

And yes, he knows all the tricks of the trade as well.

Thanks Edo, it was a pleasure to work with you.

TEDx here I come!

There’s another thing I love about Edo. Though he doesn’t know it, he is a rare piece of highly sensitive person. I never met a person who has the ability to feel and sense the invisible AND the ability to don’t give a fuck where fucks aren’t deserved. (Yes that’s from Mark Manson)