What people often see in my write-ups are presence, great sessions, excitement… and moments that feel almost effortless.

What they don’t see… is everything behind it.

They don’t see the constant adjustment, how I read each person, understand their unspoken expectations, and try to meet them where they are. Every session is different. Every person is different. And I’m always trying to adapt.

Over time, that comes with a quiet pressure.

The need to get it right.
The desire to give something meaningful.
The expectation, sometimes from others, sometimes from myself, to not fall short.

And when things don’t go as expected, it doesn’t just pass.

It lingers.

Not as a simple “it didn’t work out,” but as a question I carry with me:
Was I not enough?

Because what I do isn’t just physical. It requires presence, awareness, emotional connection. And every time I show up for someone, I give a part of that.

After a while, it becomes hard to separate what’s mine and what belongs to others.

I spend so much time tuning into people, adjusting to their needs, their energy, their expectations… that sometimes, I lose touch with my own. I know how to hold space for others, but not always how to come back to myself after.

And maybe that’s the part people don’t see.

That in this journey, in trying to grow and become better at what I do,
I have to lose myself over and over again… just to gain improvement.

Growth doesn’t always feel like progress. Sometimes it feels like doubt, pressure, and starting all over again.

So the real question I’m still learning to answer is not just how to do better for others…

But when to pause.
When to step back.
When to stop trying to meet every expectation and start listening to myself.

Because behind everything I share, behind every session people hear about…

There’s still me.

And lately, I think I’m just trying to find my way back to that part again.