I've been letting my kids guide me ever since they were as little as a soy bean in my belly
I wanted to move to The Netherlands. It consumed me, everything I did, every thought I had was tied to the fact that I wanted to live in The Netherlands. My husband and I would look for rent. I would visualise myself living in those incredibly beautiful houses, walking my kids through their forests, riding our bicycles all day long. I longed for that life and my whole body would feel what I visualised in such vivid feelings, just as if I had already lived there.
For years, I was not quite here—in the country I lived, in the home I built with my family—because I kept wishing to be there, in the country I had set my heart on. Never fully here, nor fully there, I floated in between, making lists and short-term plans. Why would I invest in the curtains I loved when, surely, in just a year, I’d be moving to the country of my dreams? Why would I bother finding the perfect kindergarten for my children when soon enough they’d be enrolled elsewhere?
Little did I know it was consuming me, piece by piece. Not the uncertainty itself, but the weight of carrying my aching wound so close to my heart—fearful, restless, in so much pain. Little did I know, this longing, this in-betweenness, was the last intense stage of my mother wound healing process.
I worked on my wish to move to The Netherlands with several healers. I made myself ready, preparing so many things for the big move, approaching it from countless angles. Some healers provoked me, offering a big-picture outline of what I needed to take care of spiritually before I could truly start packing. Others shook me deeply, pushing me to uncover the real reasons behind my obsession with moving. It was an intense, emotionally demanding period. But I learned so many lessons.
I have always been a firm believer in self-help, personal development, continuous growth, and self-led healing. There are many things we truly can do on our own. But there are also moments when guidance is necessary. And in those moments, it is crucial to choose to work with people who feel safe, good, and well-intentioned. My hope for you is that you will always be guided toward healers who are anchored in love and safety, who can truly hold your aching heart with care.
For me, this experience once again revealed a truth I needed to remember: the personal process is what must be honored. No external force could make me take the action I truly needed in order to heal, alchemize, and change. This time, though, I learned it from a different perspective, and I feel grateful to share it with you, hoping it will ease your own path: first and foremost, you must commit to being on your own side. Honor your process. Hold safe space for yourself so real change can integrate. Without that, healing can become frightening, and the process may be postponed for years. In other words—cultivate safety in your life. Surround yourself with it. If you don’t know where to start, begin by journaling about what safety truly means for you, and let its meaning reveal itself gently over time.
The second difficult lesson I learned about truly bringing healing home was this: notice the feelings healers bring out in you. I am convinced that the energy any healer should anchor in their work is safety, love, soulful warmth, calmness, and ease. If ever in the process fear, urgency, shame, or guilt rise up and overwhelm your heart and body, that is a red flag. Walk away. I will repeat this as often as needed: carrying these wounds already hurts too much. Healing should not. Healing should be gentle, safe, and infused with love and care. Always.
I wanted to move to The Netherlands—to offer my kids a chance at what I thought was a better society, a more evolved educational system, and a more developed way of life. I carried this dream like a promise, convinced that only by moving abroad could I give my children what they truly deserved.
And then my children came. Slowly, gently, smile after smile, they began to teach me a truth I hadn’t yet realized: I was already offering them a better life than I could ever give them abroad. It wasn’t the polished schools or the well-ordered systems that mattered most. It was the love of their grandparents. It was the simple, repeated rituals of being together—playing, learning, being held, and being seen—over and over again, multiple times each month.
I began to understand that these moments were filling my children’s cups in ways that no system, no country, no so-called better lifeabroad could ever replace. Their bonds with their grandparents, the safety of being deeply loved by more than just their parents, the joy of belonging to a family that embraced them fully—these were gifts beyond measure.
I’m not crying, you are.
As I watched my firstborn with his grandmother—my mother-in-law—something in me began to shift. Again and again, in their simple moments of connection, I felt a courage rising in me that was deeper and stronger than I had ever known before. It was as if life was gently nudging me to face what still ached within me. And so I did. I rolled up my sleeves and made the conscious choice (hello, the #ChoiceCode) to stay and finally heal my mother wound.
The moment I decided—truly decided—everything began to move quickly. Guidance appeared. People crossed my path who carried exactly the medicine I needed at that stage of my journey. Looking back now, I can see how even the smallest steps, taken on random days, created ripples that grew into something much bigger than I could have imagined.
I remember vividly the thoughts racing through me: I have two little kids, I need to care for them, the routines, the expectations… It will never feel like the right time to do this. And yet another voice within me grew louder: I cannot accept this status quo any longer. Enough. My heart pounded with fear and panic, but also with courage. That moment of clarity carried me forward.
Today, my heart is overflowing with gratitude—for the guidance that showed up, for the healing that unfolded, and most of all, for myself. For the younger versions of me—my inner child, my adolescent, my young woman—who finally felt seen and cared for. For my future self, who now walks in more freedom. For my daughter, who will not have to carry the same pain. For my friends, who have felt inspired to show up more authentically in their own lives. And for you, too—because if you are reading these words, I want you to feel this love and trust reaching you. You too can heal.
There I was, having walked through and overcome the most intense pain of my life, having alchemized my mother wound, when I heard my baby boy drawing a long bus. On it, he carefully added everyone he knows and loves—his sister, my husband, myself, his grandmother, grandmama, grandfather, granddada, auntie, his little friend, even a friend of mine.
Tears filled my eyes and my heart overflowed with love. Thank you, thank you, thank you, Universe, I whispered, for guiding me to stay, to heal, to stop running away—and in doing so, to stop hurting even more. Thank you for this moment, for the fullness I feel right here, right now. And thank you for the childhood filled with love and warmth that my little boy and girl already get to live and breathe every single day.
Forever looking for reasons to be grateful,
Madalina