How did I get here?

 From corporate logistics to retreat strategy, via a broken elbow, a failed startup and one very bold phone call.

 From corporate logistics to retreat strategy, via a broken elbow, a failed startup and one very bold phone call.

People ask me this a lot. Usually right after I've told them I used to implement automated warehouses and now I advise retreat businesses from Bali. Fair question. So let's go back. Not all the way (my childhood is a story for another time), but far enough to see the thread.

The girl who was good at everything and satisfied by nothing

I studied at Delft University of Technology: technology, policy and management. I chose it because I was good at the techy stuff but didn't want to become a specialist. What I actually learned was bridging: between engineers and managers, economists and politicians, the people who build and the people who decide. Looking back, that's the only job I've ever had. The industries just kept changing.

After graduating I did what smart Dutch girls with good degrees do: consulting first (didn't fit), then logistics and supply chain. Project manager, team lead, business analyst on a fully automated warehouse, data analytics manager. Big names: Lidl, bol.com, Zalando. Above-average salary, regular promotions, a career path you could set a clock to.

And a whisper that never went away: is this really it? I was the job hopper. Everyone thought I was ambitious. Really, I was searching.

A terrible retreat plants a seed

In 2015, at the end of five months backpacking through Southeast Asia, I joined my first retreat ever. Yoga and meditation in Cambodia, €300 for a full week. And it met those expectations: hours of silent meditation with zero guidance, a bunk bed in the hallway, a thousand degrees with one fan, and me fresh out of the hospital after food poisoning.

Not my kind of retreat. But somewhere in that mismatch, a seed: one day, build something that feels better. Curated. Nourishing. Clear.

I didn't do anything with it for years. Seeds are patient.

The broken elbow that started everything

In 2021, at a retreat in Italy, I caught myself making mental lists of everything I would do differently. And then a question that changed things: why am I waiting until I'm old and rich? What's the smallest step I can take now?

That same week, a yoga teacher crossed my path who wanted to organise retreats. I messaged her (hello, Projector: I go looking for the invitation). One lunch later we were planning a retreat in Portugal.

I became the organiser, coordinator and retreat chef. With a healing broken elbow. I cooked the entire week gluten-free and vegan, and wrote a full cookbook while I was at it, because apparently that's who I am.

Two lessons from that week. One: organising a retreat is far more work than anyone tells you, and it does not sell itself. Two, and this came from Denise herself: because I held the overview, the details and the group dynamics, she could fully do what she's brilliant at. Hosting. Holding space.

Click. That's where I add value. Behind the scenes, seeing the whole picture.

Retreat coaching was born, and with it Retreat Netwerk Nederland & België: not another "post your retreat and pray" group, but a place to share, learn and genuinely connect. It grew into one of the largest retreat communities in the Netherlands and Belgium.

The leap to Spain (and the hangover)

January 2024, grey Netherlands. A venue owner in the south of Spain invited me for a test sleep in her glamping retreat. I helped her think, she started hiring my advice, and then came the offer: come live here, I'll pay you a salary, you'll have time for your own business. I can't do this project alone.

It felt like 1+1=3 and a nearly risk-free way out of corporate. Within six weeks I quit my job (handed over properly, yes I'm that person), ended my rent, put my life in storage, packed my car and drove to Spain.

Months later the win-win turned out to be I-give-a-lot-and-you-take-a-lot. I left the project drained: no base income, no house, no energy. And also: a bag full of lessons, a Spanish network, and a startup I was building on the side.

Heilen: the most expensive education of my life

That startup became Heilen: the platform for high-quality, trustworthy retreats. The mission came straight out of my community, where I kept hearing the same questions. Where do I find a good venue? Who can I trust? Is this retreat right for me?

I gave it everything for two years. CEO, CMO, CFO and everything in between. Financial projections, pitch stages, 40+ partners, a live MVP, paying users. People applauded the vision everywhere I went.

And still, it didn't work. Not because the mission was wrong. Because the structure was. I learned that vision without skin in the game evaporates. That people who applaud you are not the people who will pay you. That technology can eat the time that should go to community and relationships, which is where the actual value lives. And that I am not willing to sacrifice my sleep, my health and my life for a structure that doesn't serve the mission.

You cannot out-hustle a broken foundation. Believe me, I tried.

The full Heilen story deserves its own piece, and it has one: [link naar de Heilen-blog zodra live]. The short version: I'm quitting the company. I'm not quitting my people. The network stays, the mission stays.

The bold move that took me to Bali

Meanwhile, another thread had been quietly running for years. On my first Bali trip I'd found a retreat resort that inspired me, hopped between villas for five days, and got talking to the owners. Both said: you'll be back someday.

Months later, on a rainy Dutch Sunday, I made a vision board of the villa I would build on their land. And I emailed it to them. The owner replied: good idea, let's talk. A video call, a plot of land, an architect's first drawing. Holy shit, this is really happening.

Then Spain and the startup swallowed me, and I called Bernard: I want this, but I can't carry it right now. His answer: this project isn't running away. Focus. We'll keep in touch.

And we did, every few months. Until September 2025, when a retreat participant asked me "how's your Bali project?" and I heard myself talk about it with so much passion that I finally admitted I'd been wanting to go back for months. So I picked up the phone: Bernard, I think I can help you with your retreats and your strategy. Can we make a deal? Send a proposal, he said. Let's go. When are you coming?

So I flew to Bali for the second time in my life, this time not to explore but to build. Two weeks became four months. I'm still working on that project at [Sumberkima Hill] in North Bali, and it's one of the most beautiful things I get to build on.

The moral, and I mean this: dream, then ask. The worst thing that can happen is a no. What if I had never sent that email?

Rock bottom, February 2026

Let me be honest about this part, because the highlight reel isn't the whole story.

Early 2026 I hit the floor. I was in the most beautiful place in the world and couldn't enjoy it, because I was working that hard. My savings were gone. At some point I genuinely didn't know how I would pay for food the next week. I applied for $12-an-hour jobs and didn't even get those (overqualified, they said).

And then the first real job that had once slipped away came back around: advising founders on strategy and growth. It fit so well it felt like validation from the universe with a stamp on it. This. This is what I'm good at.

From there, I started rebuilding. Slowly this time, and deliberately. I never left the retreat world: I still coach organisers and facilitators, the community keeps growing, the Bali project keeps building, and I host my connect events wherever I am. Multiple projects, multiple income streams, and for the first time a structure that doesn't need me to break myself to work. That was the whole lesson, after all.

So: how did I get here?

By doing the same work the entire time.

From logistics to retreats to startups, it was always: bridge the gap, see the bigger picture, spot the real bottleneck, connect the right people. It just kept getting more specific and more clear how I do that, and for whom.

Today I'm a strategic thinking partner for entrepreneurs, founders and retreat professionals. My life is location-independent: Netherlands, Spain, Bali. You could say I'm homeless, or you could say my life is one long workation. It depends on how you look at it.

And that perspective shift? That's basically my job description.