Around ten years ago, I started feeling that something wasn’t quite right. Today I help entrepreneurs rebuild the foundations of their business — but that work started with rebuilding my own life first.

On paper, everything looked good.

I had built a career in air traffic control, and I was also working as an instructor. I carried real responsibility — the kind where people’s safety depends on your decisions. It was meaningful, demanding work. Well paid. Respected.

Other parts of my life felt balanced too. I had a beautiful home. I had found the love of my life. I was competing in sports. I traveled often — something that had always been important to me. Seeing different cultures, landscapes, the diversity and beauty of the world.

 

From the outside, it looked like I had built a full life. And in many ways, I had.

But quietly, something in me had gone silent.

 

I had slowly set aside the creative part of myself — the curious one. The one that wants to experiment, build, design. Not just execute inside an existing system, but create something of my own.

 

 

And then life forced me to stop.

 

 

During a gymnastics training session, I landed badly from a high Arabian salto. Multiple ligaments in my ankle ruptured. Surgery followed. And then a long rehabilitation. Movement had always been how I processed life. How I regulated stress. How I reset after demanding days. Suddenly, that outlet disappeared.

As I was recovering, I began to realize how exhausted I truly was. It started to show both mentally and physically. My body felt tense. I was in pain. I started struggling with insomnia. I had been carrying more than I allowed myself to admit.

Suddenly there was space now.  And that space brought up a question I could no longer ignore:

 

If everything in my life looks good —
why am I not happy?

 

 

In that moment, I knew that I needed a reset. A break from everything. At the time, my boyfriend — who is now my husband — was traveling constantly for work, and he encouraged me to listen to my intuition and go. So I moved to Barcelona on my own, only accompanied by my dog.

Every day, I trained carefully on the beach, rebuilding my ankle step by step. But something else was rebuilding too. Something inside me. Bit by bit, I started to feel like myself again. I had that spark again. I started studying design, coaching, business, entrepreneurship.

 

 

And that was the beginning. 

 

 

I didn’t set out to build a specific career. I allowed myself to explore. I built different businesses — product-based and service-based. I learned by doing. I made mistakes. I invested in mentors. Some of those experiences were transformative. Some were deeply disappointing. I invested serious money into mentorship that looked impressive on the surface but lacked depth underneath. It was an expensive lesson. But looking back, I’m grateful.

Those disappointments forced me to look closer — to see how businesses are really built.
What actually creates consistent revenue.
And why so many capable entrepreneurs still struggle. And over time, I began to see patterns. The way systems either support you — or quietly drain you. And slowly, I stopped just running a business.

 

 

I started leading it.

 

 

I also began to understand that I didn’t have to choose between parts of myself. I could be analytical and intuitive, disciplined and creative, grounded and ambitious — at the same time. For years, I had treated those parts as opposites. The real growth happened when I stopped shrinking parts of myself. When I started to own all the different sides of me.
When I gave myself permission to be sensitive and strong at the same time — compassionate and ambitious.

 

That integration changed the way I build.

The way I position myself.
The way I make decisions.
The way I mentor other women.

 

Not only from theory.

 

From lived experience.