From Bunker to Open Heart: My Summer of Letting Go

A Summer at Home

While most people went on vacation this summer, my husband and I made a conscious decision to stay home. We just kept working. What I experienced was a journey just as profound—but an inner one. A profound shift, unfolding on multiple levels at once.

It started with decluttering. My inbox, my Google Drive, my paperwork, my office. Practical decluttering, layer by layer, cabinet by cabinet. But I soon sensed that it was about something else. About the baggage I’ve been carrying around for years, which I’m gradually letting go of. The real work wasn’t in those folders. It was within me.

A Living Loss

I haven't been in touch with a very good friend of mine for a while now. He was my best man at my wedding. I've written to him several times. I haven't heard back...

And that hurts.

Sadness. Longing. A kind of grief for someone who is still alive. I call it “living loss.”

Bunker or Open Heart

There are two ways I can deal with this. I can lock my heart away and turn it into a bunker, so I no longer feel the pain. But then I also won’t feel his place in my life anymore. Or keep my heart open, with everything that comes with it: feeling the love that’s still there for him, the sadness that goes with it, even though there’s nothing left to hold on to.

I choose to keep an open heart. Even though it sometimes feels overwhelming. Even though it sometimes feels very lonely, even with my husband by my side, who supports me immensely throughout this whole process. An old narrative inside me then says, “You’re doing this on your own anyway; you don’t need anyone.” That narrative isn’t true, and I know that by now. But letting it go happens through trial and error—not all at once.

If he ever reaches out again, I’ll welcome him with open arms. Until then, he’ll always be welcome in my heart, even if he’s not there.

My parents, too—a time-out out of love

During that same period, it also became clear to me that I still had something to do for my parents.

I recognized a family dynamic that doesn’t nourish me or heal me. On the contrary. It’s a dynamic that keeps me small, one in which I don’t dare to stand in my power or show my vulnerability. One in which things are swept under the rug instead of being discussed.

I chose to video chat with my father. I did it on purpose.

He immediately handed the phone to my mother, who stayed on camera for the rest of the call. My father stayed away from the screen. The whole time.

An absent father. A mother who dominates the conversation. Exactly the pattern I’ve sensed my whole life—now visible, literally on screen.

My mother was worried. She wondered if they had done something wrong, or if I was all right.

My dad didn't say anything during the conversation itself. But afterward, he sent an email. Saying that he and Mom love me. That I can count on them. It was his way of supporting me, even if it wasn't obvious.

I had recognized that very dynamic for quite some time. A dynamic that keeps me small, in which I don’t dare to stand in my power or show my vulnerability. In which I’d rather have things come about indirectly than directly.

I want to step back from that intentionally. Not a permanent breakup, but a time-out. No contact for a while, out of love, knowing that the real connection afterward can be more fulfilling than it is now.

Not knowing, yet trusting

I don't know how things will unfold in the coming days. And that's okay. The process can just be a process. I don't have to control it. Life and the universe will show me the way, step by step.

Home, our little paradise

What keeps me going through all of this is my home. I thoroughly enjoy my relationship with my husband—a loving, nurturing relationship. We live in a beautiful place, our little paradise, with a garden that just keeps getting more beautiful. A place where I can find peace. A place where I can bring things into the world.

We both work with people—he as a nurse, and I as a therapist. And I feel more and more that this place was made for sharing. A place to give people the peace and space they sometimes need amid the hustle and bustle of life.

A Network of Love

Via More Human, which I’ve been involved with for some time now, I feel a desire to show even more—not just to grow, but to take action. I want to create a ripple effect in this world, something I’m already doing on a small scale, and which I hope will continue to grow.

I don't do that alone, either. Just as I form a team with my husband, I also form one with the people at More Human. It's a network of love, driven by vulnerability and an open heart.

I don’t always know what I’m doing. I experiment, sometimes hit a wall, and then get back on my feet. That perseverance is necessary, because the world is literally and figuratively on fire. For me, this can only be turned around through love, through decisiveness, and through an attitude in which we view nature not as an object but as a subject—an attitude in which ecology takes precedence over economics.

Every time I say that, I start coughing. To me, that’s a sign that I’m speaking my truth—a voice that was often silenced in my family system.

I don't dream for my own children—since I don't have any—but I do dream for the generations that will come after us. For the Earth, for nature, for love as a universal force.

Do you recognize that feeling—that tug between your heart, which wants to stay open, and the old story that tells you you have to do it alone? You don't have to do this alone.

What keeps me going here is that I can continue to be true to myself, even if that sometimes feels lonely. That’s not something to be taken for granted. Most of us were taught exactly the opposite: to say “yes” when you feel “no,” to adapt yourself to maintain the connection, and to put yourself aside a little as soon as things get tense.

On October 31, I'll be hosting an experiential workshop there on, Discover Your True Nature, in Bergen op Zoom. We’ll explore what happens inside you the moment you begin to let go of yourself in order to stay connected to the other person—not by talking about it, but through body-oriented exercises, small constellations, and genuine connection with one another. You’re welcome to arrive starting at 10 a.m., and there’s room for up to 15 people. If you’d like to see if this is something for you, please schedule a free consultation a 20-minute session. During that time, we'll explore together—with no obligation—what's right for you.