My path - walking through the fog at 60

A life that looked perfect

For 30 years I lived a life that looked perfect on paper. As a management consultant, I moved between boardrooms and five-star hotels. Every external box was ticked. Success was visible to everyone.

Inside, I felt empty, constantly performing, and deeply disconnected from myself.

The first moment it cracked

One morning at 6:27 a.m. in a sterile hotel room, my grandmother Rosina appeared at the foot of my bed – at the exact moment she passed away, hundreds of kilometers away. It wasn’t a dream. It was a clear, loving presence. She came to say goodbye and told me everything would be okay.

In that moment, the carefully built life I knew cracked wide open.

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

The fog grew thicker

I kept going for a very long time — 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

This dream didn’t give me answers. It opened the questions I had long suppressed. I finally saw how much of my life had been built on proving and performing. Something inside 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.

What actually changed

I stopped feeling bad for moving slowly, and made decisions that felt right in my body, not just reasonable in my head. I began moving forward, steady and whole, 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. With unflinching presence, deep warmth and no quick fixes. Only the space until your own raw truth finally rises.

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 free companion guide:

"The 10 Lies in Midlife Fog"  

Download only if you’re done pretending.