A personal essay on life transitions in women
It was a Friday afternoon.
Outside, it was getting dark. Inside, the house was quiet.
I only wanted to send a few last emails—
but instead, I suddenly found myself standing in the middle of the room, unable to move.
As if someone had pulled the plug.
In the time that followed, this state was given a diagnosis.
Looking back, it wasn’t a breakdown.
It was a stop.
A radical pause I would never have chosen—
and yet, one that was necessary.Es war ein Freitagnachmittag.
Draußen wurde es dunkel, im Haus war es still.
“You’re strong. A power woman. You’ll get through this.”
I had heard this sentence for years—
and lived by it even longer.
Back then, being strong meant functioning without complaint.
Taking responsibility. Finding solutions when others had already given up.
From the outside, I seemed composed.
But inside, it kept getting more and more quiet.
Only much later did I understand:
This wasn’t my first transition.
Just the most visible one.
Transitions that have shaped me
At nineteen, I decided to shape my life on my own terms—
against the expectations of my family.
More transitions followed:
divorce. single motherhood. patchwork.
new beginnings in foreign countries. career changes.
shifting roles. empty nest.
And each of these phases brought me back to the same question:
Who am I – now?
Maybe you know this question, too.
It stayed with me for more than four decades.
And over time, I came to understand something essential:
A transition is not a failure.
It is an invitation.
If you’re standing right at that threshold, you might want to read more
about what it means to choose your own path – gently and in your own time.
→ Read: Beginning Again in Self-Trust
An invitation to become honest.
To let go of what weighs you down.
And to realign with yourself.
This understanding changed my life—
and it shapes the way I write.
Why I write about this
Maybe you find yourself in a phase of transition right now.
Between success and meaning. Between strength and exhaustion.
Between the need to function—and the quiet sense that there must be more.
This is exactly where I write from.
I don’t write to analyze crises.
I write to make possibilities visible.
Because I know what quiet fractures feel like—
the many roles we carry,
the expectations from within and from the outside.
And because I know that behind every transition,
something new is waiting to emerge.
Letting go is often the quiet beginning of everything that follows.
→ Read: Letting Go in Times of Transition
If you recognize yourself in these lines,
you’re in the right place.
Welcome to my world.
And if you’d like to stay connected to these thoughts,
you can find my newsletter here “Die Words & Soul Post” (German only).
Your Takeaway:
No transition happens by chance.
Every phase of life rewrites us.
