It’s really hard to write your own self-portrait. Shall we start with “stubborn”?

I almost asked ChatGPT to do it for me, but I really wanted my website, in its entirety, to be created solely by me, a human being. Today, I’m proud to say that’s exactly what happened. A hundred hours of work, if not more. Clearly, I’m no web designer, but I might just be a tiny bit stubborn.

It’s much easier for me to praise others than to talk about myself. And, to be honest, I’m not exactly sure what to tell you.

Should I tell you about all the challenges I’ve faced in my life—the ones that led me to that turning point when a decision became crystal clear: “That’s it—I’m taking the plunge”?

Should I tell you about my ADHD, which was diagnosed when I was 37, at the same time that burnout—a condition not officially recognized in Switzerland—left me bedridden for six months and continued to affect me for up to three years afterward?

Should I tell you about all the abuse of every kind that I’ve experienced along the way?

Then, when I think about all of this, I realize that there are women who have faced challenges far more difficult than my own. I’m fortunate to have a certain resilience, an ability to bounce back. I’m also privileged to be surrounded by extraordinary women who have inspired, supported, and carried me through the toughest times.

Nevertheless, my background and diverse experiences enable me to address, more or less, every type of trauma a woman may experience in the course of her life. One of my strengths is that I do not judge. Another is that I do not take sides. A third is that I believe I have a fairly sound sense of responsibility.

That said, I don’t really feel I have the right to complain or to use my story as an excuse for any success I might have. Rather, I believe that, like many of us, I am simply the product of the people who believed in me when I myself struggled to do so.

I’m not trying to convince anyone. I know who I am and why I am the way I am. I know what I’m doing and why I’m doing it. Beyond that, I have no control, nor do I want any.

I am deeply convinced that the people who can benefit from my practice will eventually find me. I have unshakable faith in this pure, powerful, and benevolent energy that exists everywhere: within us, around us, in the people we meet, and in the paths that cross at just the right moment.

It is my firm belief that the people who need what I have to offer—and for whom my guidance can make a difference—will find their way to me.

And for those who don’t share my vision or my approach, that’s perfectly fine too. That’s why there are so many different therapists and approaches. It’s also why we don’t see the same therapist our whole lives. We change; we evolve. There’s something for everyone, and that’s magical! As for me, I refuse to build my success by stepping on others or by pretending to be someone I’m not just to attract more clients. If that means it’ll take longer or be harder, so be it.

I believe it’s important to get to know your therapist beyond their degrees, techniques, or certifications. Of course, certifications are necessary, but beyond that, personally, when I choose someone to take care of me, to work with my body, or to guide me through therapy, I want to know who the person in front of me really is. I want to know who I’m entrusting with my trust, my time, my body, and my money. We have to click!

The energy we carry is important; it is sacred and precious.

So it seems only natural to me that people who want to work with me should also get a sense of who I am—the journey that has shaped me, the experiences that have enriched me, the women who have inspired me, the challenges that have taught me resilience, and the values that guide my practice today.

Because, deep down, what I offer—beyond my techniques and knowledge—is my light, my energy, and my whole self.