My path - walking through the fog at 60

A life that looked perfect

30 years as a management consultant.
Boardrooms. Five-star hotels. Every box ticked.
On paper: success.
Inside: Empty, performing and disconnected.

The first moment it cracked

One morning, 6:27 a.m., sterile hotel room:

My grandmother Rosina appeared at the foot of my bed – the exact moment she died, hundreds of kilometers away. Not a dream. A presence.

She said goodbye. Everything would be okay, and we would meet each other again.

In that second, the life I built cracked open.

For the first time I asked: Who am I when no one watches?

Successful, yet empty

I kept going for decades — more work, more logic, more control. I went self-employed but it didn't help. The fog just grew thicker.

Then, shortly after my 60th birthday, I dreamt I gave birth to a child — completely unprepared.
I turned to my husband and said: “We have nothing. We have to start from scratch.”

I woke up knowing: the old life no longer fit.

Learning to stay in the fog 

That dream didn’t give me answers. It only opened questions I had avoided for years. I finally saw how much of my life had been built on proving and performing. But something in me was done pushing. It wanted to listen.

So I slowed down. I started noticing what still felt true — and what had quietly stopped feeling like me. Most days it felt exactly like walking through thick fog — uncertain, sometimes scary, but undeniably alive.

Walk through the fog

I stopped chasing what no longer felt like mine. And I learned that clarity doesn’t come from forcing it. It shows itself only when you stop running.

This actually changed:

  • I stopped feeling bad for moving slowly.
  • I made decisions that felt right, not just reasonable.
  • I moved forward, steady and whole, and unmistakably as myself.

Not back to who I was. Forward to who I have always been.

The first honest step

Once I had walked far enough through the fog, I knew: this is what I’m here for now. The pretending had become too heavy.

Now I walk beside women 45+ who feel the same: Unflinching presence with deep warmth and no quick fixes. Only the space until your own raw truth finally gets spoken.

And as I walked, I started writing down what I saw. The lies I had believed. The ones that kept the fog thick. That became this workbook:

"The 10 Lies in Midlife Fog"  - (Ten lies that keep the fog thick — until we stop believing them.)

Download only if you’re done pretending.