Nobody's Wife:
My Transformation Journey

It began before names. Before words. Before thought. A rhythm unspoken. Slow. Insistent. Impossible to resist. Minds brushing, leaning, circling. Hearts daring what bodies had not yet known. A gravity pulling without asking. A language only in pauses, in breaths, in the space between pulse and silence. And then… it shattered. Raw. Sudden. A weight cutting through everything. The rhythm trembling. Closeness dangerous. Trust fragile. The current faltered. Distance became mercy.

Some dates have a way of lingering in our memory, returning year after year like quiet reminders. The 7th of December is one of those days… a marker of journeys, choices and chapters that shift the course of a life. On a 7th of December long ago, someone set out to reconnect with their roots, to search for a sense of belonging that had been missing. A departure that left an empty space behind, teaching early lessons about distance, time and the stories people chase. Years lat

The question came, soft and ordinary: are you ok? and the truth rose, trembling, like a pulse under the skin. It didn’t escape. Yes slipped out instead… a word too small, too clean, carrying none of what it should. Another yes returned, polished, certain, hollow. And just like that, the world was “as it should be.” But beneath the surface, something cracked. Not a crash, not a roar… just a quiet collapse, the subtle giving way of what was real. Two lies met in silence, brushi

Today my heart celebrates what would have been my grandmother’s 100th birthday. It’s impossible to put into words what it meant to have her in my life for my first 20 years. She was passion, strength, courage and charm all wrapped in one unforgettable woman, with a touch of sass that made everything brighter. She loved red, she loved to dance and she loved life with a boldness that taught me what it means to be truly alive. “Dance is life, my sweet heart!” she would say, and

“This girl I know needs some shelter She don't believe anyone can help her She's doing so much harm, doing so much damage But you don't wanna get involved You tell her she can manage And you can't change the way she feels But you could put your arms around her I know you wanna live yourself But could you forgive yourself If you left her just the way you found her? I stand in front of you I'll take the force of the blow, protection I stand in front of you I'll take the force o

I don’t even know what “healing” means anymore. Everyone talks about it as if it were light, but to me it feels more like an open wound. Like tearing the skin off, layer by layer, until only the pulse and the truth remain. It isn’t peace. It’s violence. It’s chaos. It’s the sound of old versions of me screaming as they die. The parts that kept me safe, the ones that made me small enough to be loved, fight to survive and I am the one killing them. I thought trauma was pain. Bu

Today, November 5th, i celebrate 23 years in this country i now call home. 23 years ago, i was a 25 years old woman full of dreams, starting a new life from scratch. Today, at 48, i find myself doing it all over again…rebuilding, rediscovering and reimagining my life. The past few months have been tough… but also amazing, beautiful and full of growth. Beyond my children, my greatest treasures, i’ve been blessed to find incredible souls who walk this path with me. To the one w

It's not your anxious attachment It's your emotional avoidance Not theirs...yours You don't attract avoidant people because you're too needy You attract them because you're unavailable to your own emotions You want someone to hold your emotions But you can't even hold them yourself You want deep intimacy But you abandon your sadness the second it shows up You numb your rage You spiritualize your grief You analyze your pain instead of feeling it And so you call in partners Who

Lately, i’ve been thinking that life isn’t something we walk through… it’s something we dance. And the truth is, i don’t always know the steps. Some days i glide forward like the music is inside me. Other days i trip over my own feet and lose the rhythm completely. But somehow, even when i stumble, the song keeps playing. Two steps forward. One step back. And still… i move. There are days that feel like tango… heavy, close, slow. The kind of days where everything matters too

I’ve been carrying this book with me these past days, and it feels like a quiet mirror. Each page asks me to look closer… at life, at death, at the spaces in between. I notice how much I cling, how much I resist, how afraid i’m of endings. And yet, there’s a strange relief in reading that letting go is not loss, but a form of living fully. Reading it feels like being guided inward, to the quiet place where acceptance begins. It’s teaching me that to live fully is to let go ge

He called me Ahsoka, the Star Wars legend. At first, I smiled. But then something inside me went still. Because it wasn’t just a name, it was recognition. It was as if he saw through me, into the quiet spaces I keep hidden and named something I hadn’t yet dared to claim. Ahsoka Tano. Once a Padawan, bright, impulsive, full of belief. She followed the light, even when it led her into darkness. She trusted and was betrayed. She lost her place, her people, her faith and still, s

2002, i landed in the Netherlands, no friends, no plan, no clue. Just me, a bike and a head full of noise. Weekends were my escape: long rides through Haarlem’s narrow streets, wind in my face, music in my ears. And then, i found Kane - the Dutch music band. That sound. That fire. Raw, electric, untamed. Rock that felt like the pulse of the city itself, my city. Haarlem. Haarlem, where i learned to live alone and love it. Where i shared nights of laughter, wine and way too mu

A mailbox does not define us. Nor does it divide us. It’s only a place of passage, where words pause to breathe before finding their way to us. A quiet symbol of all we have endured: the distance, the silence, the pauses between our days. And still, we go on… with a kind of serene grace, with the lightness of those who have learned to care without the need to hold. That, perhaps, is empathy to see both pain and beauty reflected in the same gaze. They once said we were alike,

I'm alone, but not necessarily lonely. Inside me, there is a silence that no longer screams, it simply breathes. It’s a strange feeling… not bad, just new. For twenty years, I always knew there was someone there. A presence. A familiar voice with whom to share coffee and the day’s news, to discuss the weather or the chaos of the world. It was the certainty of not being alone, even when I felt lonely. After the separation came the whirlwind. A restlessness that wouldn’t fit in

He told me that he was reading me. Curious, i asked: “And what do you see?” His answer was simple, yet it struck deep: “I see a white page. The chapter number one is completely empty and you can write everything you want. Go for it.” Since then, i’ve been holding onto those words. A white page… mine to fill. It feels both frightening and liberating. I am scared. I am fragile. Yet i know, that i am the one holding the pen. I can write a new story: A new life, A new job, a new

At first, I was skeptical. I thought “Let Them” was just another American hype. But on the recommendation of a good friend, I bought it and it surprised me. I remember opening the first chapters with a bit of resistance, almost reading to prove myself right, that it would be nothing new. But as I kept going, something shifted. The simplicity of the message hit me harder than I expected: you cannot control people. You can’t make them love you the way you want, treat you how yo

This week, I saw something I never thought I would see in the 21st century. A mailbox with paint on top… trying to erase words… revealed the weight of racism, revenge, stalking and vandalism. I knew such cruelty existed, but seeing its mark in real life was devastating, it felt like a punch to the heart. And yet, in that same moment, I saw the person. The person who rose above it all. Who chose courage over anger, empathy over hatred, humanity over destruction. Seeing that st

I was 16. He was 19. He wanted the skies, I wanted stories. Somewhere between the edges of the map, we would meet… laughing, daring, teasing each other as if the world itself was ours to flirt with. He was wild, uncontainable, brilliant… sun tanned skin and those eyes that seemed to know every secret before I did. And that red leather jacket… his signature, his courage stitched into every thread. I used to watch it from afar, imagining the fire it carried. Now I wear it. More

One of the first and most important lessons you learn as a rider is to keep your eyes up and not look at the ground. Why? Because you end up going where you look. If you’re always looking at the ground, that’s where you’ll end up! Keep your gaze on where you want to go, look toward your future, toward where you want to be. If you’re about to jump an obstacle, don’t look at it. Look at the horizon, at where you want to be after the jump and trust your horse to take you there.

They were painful months without you. Months in which I walked alone through my shadows, in which I lost myself in hurts and silences, in which I didn’t know how to breathe whole again. It hurt not to have you, but it hurt even more not to have myself. And it was in that absence — yours and mine — that I began to find my way back. Pain pushed me inward and there I discovered a place I had never inhabited: the center of myself. Today I know that this is where everything begins

More than 30 years of friendship… and what a journey it has been. We’ve grown up together, crossed borders and oceans, built new homes in new countries, celebrated marriages, welcomed children and supported each other through heartbreaks and divorces. We’ve fought, made up, laughed until our stomachs hurt and cried on each other’s shoulders when life felt heavy. We are not the same people we were 30 years ago… we’ve changed, we’ve evolved, we’ve taken different paths. And yet

I’m back. Not as I left, but as I needed to return. I brought with me a heart full of knots to untie, the grief for the father who no longer waits for me at the door, the end of a love that ran out of breath, the weight of cycles that hurt me but that I was afraid to close. Landing here felt like diving into a living past: embracing friends who know my soul, stepping on sidewalks where I once was happy, recognizing scents and sounds that remind me of who I was. I cried. I smi

… after all these years 23 years later, and I find myself back where it all began. Four years of my life unfolded in these streets… carefree, untamed, golden. We lived like the world had no edges, laughed like the nights would never end. Here, the air still carries the echo of serenatas, the kind that made your heart pause mid-beat. Here, I loved deeply… people, moments, possibilities… and maybe, just maybe, almost chose forever. But time has a way of carrying us forward, eve

September 2009. I left this house to get married. Not with doubt, but with a heart full of hope and hands open to the life ahead. Nights before, I’d sit on that old balcony, glass of wine in hand, wrapped in silence and soft questions: “Are you ready?” And I was. I loved fully. I chose with faith. It’s no accident that my entrance song was Only Time by Enya. Because only time knows what we can’t yet name. Only time reveals what love alone cannot carry. Now, almost sixteen yea

I am still adrift. In this river I did not choose, but that carries me anyway. I don’t know where it’s taking me. I no longer try to know. There is a part of me that grew tired of asking. I fought against the current too many times. I spent my body. I spent my soul. And what I received was silence, water in my lungs, and an exhaustion i don’t know how to put into words. Every time I tried to resist, I sank. Now I let myself go. Not out of weakness, but out of clarity. Because

Impossible loves carry a unique beauty, almost poetic, that seems to exist between dream and reality. They are like stars: distant, untouchable, yet always shining deep in the chest. These loves teach us what it means to feel intensely, even when logic asks us to retreat, even when life gives us reasons to let go. They remain there, like a silent secret, pulsing in every memory, in every “what if” that never came to be. There is something eternal about impossible loves... not

Tonight, I slipped into my dancing shoes (yes, they have red) the ones that know me, know every sway, every silent ache and craving. And when the Latin beat hit… I let go. Hips led. Eyes closed. I danced like the music was made for my body alone. No performance. No apology. Just raw, feminine energy spilling out, unapologetic, unfiltered, alive. I needed this… to remember who the hell I am when I stop shrinking and start feeling again. Tonight, in my red leather and unapologe

I feel like I need to write to you now, while I’m still in the middle of this river, tired, soaked, confused. I haven’t reached the other bank yet. I don’t even know if I will. But I’m here. Swimming. Trying. And that alone is already more than I ever thought I’d be capable of. I dared. Against everything that told me to stay still, not to move, not to take risks. I dared to cross. Not because I know what’s on the other side... because I don’t. What drives me is a stubborn, a

This may not be your best photograph, but this moment will remain etched in me like a mark, an echo in my heart. I saw you stripped of your armour, naked in your deepest vulnerability... not the body, but the soul exposed, open, sincere. In that surrender, I found a brutal beauty, a rare courage that made me shiver and reminded me that the next three weeks will be hard for me without them, but that I too will manage… You translated what you felt into images. I gave you my mus

Red shoes on, night dress flowing… I don’t wait for the dance, I am the dance. Showing up for me, loving me, no permission needed!

Today, my little girl becomes a teenager. 13. A number that somehow holds more weight than all the others before it... because with it comes strength, growth, beauty and the beginning of becoming who you truly are. My love, we’ve danced through life in a way that no one else can quite understand. Through the hardest storms, we’ve held hands, tightly, sometimes silently but always together. Even when everything around us felt heavy or uncertain, we found a way to laugh, to smi

My dear one, my strength, You are still in the middle. You are still in the cave. You are still in the moment when the pain is so brutal, so animal, so deep that time bends. You are still on your knees in the dark room of your own body, screaming with your eyes closed, trying to expel something that is yours, but that can no longer remain inside. This divorce…Is not a separation. It is a birth. Violent. Raw. It is flesh tearing from the inside, a scream trapped in the throat

There is a waiting. One that exasperates us or tears us apart. I exist in a mad desire to rip the hands off time and break open the windows of this insane longing for you. Whoever said that longing doesn’t cause physical pain has surely never known the true absence of someone. Waiting is like the heart... silent, entering little by little, on tiptoe, so as not to wake the emptiness that was left behind. As the night embraces the moon, I waited for your embrace. And yes, it is

Nine years ago today, you made me a mother again… and not just any kind of mother. A boy mama. And what a journey it’s been… one filled with wild energy, boundless curiosity, deep emotions and a love so fierce it takes my breath away. You look so much like me and yet you’ve taught me more about myself than I ever could’ve imagined. You move through this world with intensity, with fire in your eyes and joy in your soul. You feel everything (and I mean everything) with your who

Before the April 25th Revolution, a quiet sorrow hung over the lives of women in Portugal. Under the long shadow of the Estado Novo, they were expected to live in silence, keepers of the home, guardians of tradition, never the authors of their own stories. The law treated them as fragile extensions of their husbands, needing permission to work, to travel, even to dream beyond the walls of their homes. Their voices were hushed, their ambitions dimmed and their rights a distant

Today marks 3 years since I had to make the most heartbreaking decision of my life, the moment I had to let my dad go. There are no words that truly capture how much I miss him. The world has kept spinning, days have come and gone, but there’s a part of me that’s still frozen in that moment. That quiet goodbye. That aching silence. I miss his voice, steady and reassuring. I miss his hugs that somehow made everything feel okay. I miss the way he always knew what to say, even w

Three years have passed since I last heard his voice. Three years since I said “Happy Birthday” for the last time. Three years... and so much has changed. Life keeps shifting, twisting, moving forward even when we’re not ready. But through all the chaos, all the growth, all the pain and beauty of these years, one thing has never changed: I know he’s still with me. He’s there, in the quiet moments, in the victories, in the times I feel like giving up. Watching over me. Guiding

Sometimes the best moments come from simply embracing the present, feeling the warmth of the sun and letting go of plans.

At 16, life hit me with two brutal lessons in heartbreak. My father’s second divorce shook the foundation i stood on, and just months later, i lost a friend in a car accident. He was fun, full of life, smart and gorgeous! Someone who lit up every room, who made you believe in the beauty of the moment. He was the rockabilly, always in his signature red leather jacket, fearless and unapologetically himself. Since then, I’ve always had my own red leather jacket. Not just to hono

I always struggled to meet people who could truly meet me... not just my body, not just my time but my mind. Conversations often felt shallow, predictable, safe. I learned how to exist in that space, how to accept less than what I secretly longed for. And then you appeared. Out of nowhere. No warning. No grand entrance. Just your presence, quiet, steady and suddenly I was awake. You challenged me without force, without ego. Your words were soft, but they carried weight. Intel

Because today is the 16th… “HOW LONG DOES GRIEF TAKE? My father left almost 3 years ago, and I feel in every cell of my body all the stages of loss, sometimes in just one day: - Denial: every time I think of calling him to tell him something new or to ask for advice; - Anger: when I find myself angry with Life for taking my daddy from me when I still need him so much; - Negotiation: when I go back and forth thinking about how I can fake this and pretend that nothing happened;

You cancel your next client call with a soft excuse. Say you're running behind. But really, you just sat in your car for twelve minutes gripping the steering wheel like it's the only thing holding you together. You close tabs Check Slack Put on mascara You know how to perform the part. Boss Lady, Lady Boss they say... Leader. Held-together woman. But deep down? You're exhausted from living in two different worlds. There's the one you lead. And the one you actually live in. Y

Your masculine energy brought you here. You were the one who always showed up... determined, reliable, focused. You led, you built, you delivered, you provided. You kept everything standing when no one else could. And yet… something within you is beginning to awaken. A soft, persistent whisper: There is more. More than effort, proof, and achievement. You longed for a life that isn’t only productive, but lived through the body. A life that feels intuitive. Sensual. Alive. You

I cannot change who I am, because I am made of emotion. I feel deeply, question incessantly, and think beyond the obvious. I am slowly learning that my heart, so restless, often runs ahead of my mind. And that my mind, not always as precise as I would like, falters. It doesn’t have all the answers and sometimes doesn’t even know what is right. I am learning to make peace with my mistakes, to embrace them as part of me. I am trying to understand that some people were not meant

Yes, it was you who ended it. But inside you there is nothing except a suffocating emptiness that drags you downward. There is no hope, no light... only this cold, heavy pain that won’t let go, that stops you with every breath. You are lost in a black hole where only what you’ve lost and what you will never have exists. You don’t want to see anything else, only this brutal silence that consumes you from the inside. The Tower fell and took everything with it. Certainties, drea

“Behaving well” is what they tell you when they want a dog to sit by the door without barking. “Behaving well” is the death sentence of the soul, signed with a fake smile and a tie that’s too tight. “Behaving well” is the shortest way to turn yourself into a robot, with an off switch that any idiot can press. Life is a miserable party and all they ask is that you don’t dance, that you don’t get the floor dirty. You didn’t drink, you didn’t talk loudly, you didn’t dance, you d

“I like weird people, the black sheep, the odd ducks, the ones who don’t quite fit in the places everyone else seems to belong. I like the ones who sit quietly, watching, thinking, while the world rushes past them. The ones who see things differently, who ask questions no one else dares to ask. The eccentrics, the artists, the dreamers, the people who paint outside the lines. Not because they can’t follow the rules, but because they know the rules were never meant for them. T

“I like weird people…Sometimes the strangest people are the ones who shine the brightest. They are like silence that speaks louder than a thousand words, like solitude that, far from being a burden, becomes a space for self-discovery. They don’t fit into the world’s rules, but that’s exactly what makes them unique. In solitude, they find their truth, far from the expectations of others, they immerse themselves in themselves and know that being different is not a fault, it’s a

My love, I write you this letter with a heavy and confused heart, but with the certainty that I need to be honest with you, with myself, and with what I feel. It is not easy to put into words what I have been feeling lately, but I need to do it, because it is important to me and, I believe, to us. Throughout our relationship, I always thought I wanted to be in control, that this sense of dominance would bring me security and make me happy. For a long time, it worked, or at le

I am a lioness. But not the kind that roars in the open field. No. I am the one who drags herself around the cell with eyes ablaze, muscles taut, a body boiling with unlived life. I choose to stay. I choose to chain myself. I close the doors to my own vastness. I am wild, and yet I fall silent. I could devour the world with a single look. I could set fire to everything I touch. My soul is made of claws, of desire, of skin that burns from the inside. I am fire. I am fury. I am