About me
I’m not your woman, wenn du lernen willst, wie du einen Mann dazu bringst, dich mehr zu wollen, deinen Boyfriend zu ändern oder endlich den Ring zu kriegen.
I’m the woman who’ll hold up the mirror and say: „This is exactly why you keep pushing love away – even when it’s standing right in front of you.“
My Story
I built my entire identity around being the cool one.
Immer easy, immer locker, immer ready. I loved my wild reputation, my personal conquest to reclaim of the word slut, dieses unbothered, playful, untamable Image.
I was the girl who was game for anything, anytime — die, die bloß nie kompliziert sein wollte. Anders als die Anderen.
10pm „what are you doing?“ texts. Sleeping with men who had girlfriends. Mit 10 Leuten an einem Abend rumknutschen, mehrere Dates die Woche, immer mindestens einen Kerl am Haken.
It made me feel rough, unfuckwithable. Like no one could truly get to me.
Selbst wenn mein Körper mich angeschrien hat — I kept going. To keep up the reputation.
& to not bruise any man’s ego.
Und weißt du was? Es hat funktioniert.
I became the woman everyone wanted, desired even — except me.
Ich habe mir selbst dabei zugeschaut, wie ich unter den Händen fremder Männer immer mehr verschwand. Ohne dabei jemals zu sagen, was ich eigentlich brauche, was ich will, wo meine Grenze ist. I let them take me while keeping my heart two zip codes away from my body — just in case.
Leaving before anyone could decide to leave me.
Always performing, always just out of reach.
Bis ich in den Armen eines Mannes landete, der mich wirklich sehen wollte. Der sich nicht hat täuschen lassen von meiner Maske, unbeeindruckt von meinen Krallen. Der mich einfach nur halten wollte.
No fixing, no chasing, no power games.
Shattered
And that’s when I shattered.
Because for the first time, I realized how much tenderness shook me. Wie mein Nervensystem Nähe mit Gefahr verwechselt hat.
How the man who simply held out his hand felt like the biggest threat.
How I’d been one foot out the door my whole life — so I’d never have to feel what it’s like to be truly left.
Ich habe noch nie in meinem Leben einen Orgasmus vorgetäuscht — but I sure as hell faked how easy it was to be touched.
Faked how easy it was to be held, to be known, to be chosen.
& I made it look EFFORTLESS — letting men into my body long before they could reach me emotionally, calling it empowerment.
Thinking I was so cool, so unbothered, so chill.
Weil Intimität performen sich so viel sicherer angefühlt hat, als sie tatsächlich zuzulassen.
Because if I never let anyone truly touch me, then they could never actually hurt me.
And if I kept choosing the broken ones, the projects, I’d never have to worry about being truly seen — or truly broken.
Turns out, being the woman who could handle it all was just another way to stay untouchable, unseen & unthreatened.
So why am I here? Why am I the one you trust to lead you into this?
Because I figured out the one thing most women never do:
How to stop performing intimacy — and actually start embodying & receiving it.
Ich hab mich knietief in meine Scheiße gesetzt, mich umgeschaut und mich gefragt: What am I running from?
& I learned to dance in the dirt, to dance with my own shadows. I let them tear me apart.
And finally learned to worship what I found in the wreckage.
Ich fühl dich so sehr, weil ich genau da war, wo du jetzt stehst. Immer auf dieser messerscharfen Kante zwischen Sehnsucht & Angst.
Constantly chasing love but avoiding the messy, raw work it takes to actually let someone fucking hold me, see me, love me.
Letting someone take me raw and undone, instead of high-functioning and in control.
My work isn’t about teaching you to be more feminine, manifesting a high value man, or learning how to be the one everyone desires.
This is about making sure you never choose someone else over yourself again.
I’m here to lead you to the altar of your own devotion. To teach you how to become the temple, the acolyte, the altar & the offering all at once.
So you can stop performing intimacy — and let it fucking consume you.
A few things that make me … me:
Scorpio sun, Sagittarius moon, Gemini rising — so yes, I’ll psychoanalyze you, sit knee-deep in your shit with you & tell you exactly where your daddy issues still run the show.
2/4 Generator with a sacral truth.
I’m not part of the love & light squad — I’ll call you out & hold you when your masks fall apart, when you finally break.
Psych student, certified space holder & yoga teacher
but more importantly:
a woman who’s done the messy, brutal, tender work of reclaiming her body, her boundaries & her desires.
If you’re here, you’re probably:
Wildly capable. Fiercely independent. Smart as hell. Successful. Alle schauen zu dir auf — nur du selbst nicht.
Because under all of the perfectly curated masks, you still choose men you have to manage, mother, or fix.
Du bekommst den Ick, wenn dir endlich der Mann gegenübersteht, den du dir so sehr wünschst — steady, calm & klar.
You call it intuition, but it’s fear. You call it standards, but it’s just your avoidant attachment dressing up as self-worth.
You’ve rebranded your shit so well, you almost bought it yourself.
Du sagst, du willst Intimität — die Art, die sich anfühlt wie Verschmelzen bis du nicht mehr weißt, wo du aufhörst & er anfängt — but the second someone actually steps in, you’re already halfway out.
This isn’t about becoming someone new
It’s about stopping the pretty little performance you’ve perfected that kept you liked, wanted, admired. So you can meet the parts of you that are still raw, needy, untamed.
I’m here to dare you to drop your masks — to melt them off, layer by fucking layer.
Bis nichts mehr übrig ist but that holy, messy, all-devouring intimacy that you’ve been running from.
The kind that will cost you your perfectly curated image.
And gives you everything true in return.
