my sister looked at me the other day and asked the question everyone eventually asks: how do you eat next to nothing and still have this much energy?

and I couldn’t help but wonder — was it the sun? my three sun rays, to be exact. corn. peanut butter. sunflower oil. the golden trio, if you will.

I was joking. mostly.

but here’s the thing about jokes — they’re usually just the truth wearing something lighter. underneath it was this: I stopped eating from my head. stopped asking what sounded logical, what was “balanced,” what a nutritionist would nod politely at. I started asking my body instead. novel concept, I know.

craving chocolate? magnesium calling. craving chips? salt, something crisp, something with edges to it. craving a burger, fries, pizza, and chocolate all in the same breath? that’s not chaos, darling — that’s my body asking for more fuel, probably because it’s bleeding or about to.

nothing is random. it just needs a translator.

it wasn’t always this simple, of course. there was the keto era. the vegan era. an entire chapter of trying to eat correctly by someone else’s rulebook. my hair fell out. my skin broke out. and — I’ll say it — my armpits smelled genuinely awful. did I regret it? no. I know more about food now than I ever would have without it. thank you, past me, for suffering through that for present me’s benefit.

but eventually you run out of other people’s structures to borrow. and it’s just you and your body, asking. and you actually have to answer.

which brings us to now: eating peanut chips.

did something stressful happen and suddenly I want food? that’s not weakness — that’s my body asking to ground. food does that. it always has.

lately, though? I want almost nothing. and before you worry — no, that’s not restriction in a trench coat. it’s just no desire. the body simply isn’t asking.

so no, I’m not eating jack shit and running on fumes.

I’m running on exactly what I need. which, some days, happens to be corn, peanut butter, and sunflower oil.

the golden trio. no apologies.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my article.

I’d love to write my next article with a coffee

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I knew I had to come up with something good for my younger sister — but the only thing I could think of was something I wasn’t sure she could hear. Like really feel and understand it.

She has very heavy bleeds, which leads to iron deficiency. Mine have been so painful the last couple of months. And I know a lot of other women are struggling with this too, hi!

She came to me for advice. Juul, what do I do, because I can’t anymore.

So I told her: talk to her. Talk to your bleed. Talk to your womb, because she is trying to show you something. And we are not listening to her.

If you’re in a lot of pain, I can imagine the only reply to me would be: stop talking. I need to take a pill now. But that’s not how the body works, unfortunately. So let me explain — or at least try to.

Every week before your period starts, your hormones are pulling you down. Down into the deep hole where everything is pitch black and you have no clue how to behave.
Conversations sweep you off your feet. Things you planned cost you way more energy than they should. Why, you ask yourself, can’t I just be normal.

I’m 100% sure that you’re able to follow me up until here. But,

Instead of dreading her — realize that the womb is a place where LIFE is created. When you bring a beautiful little human onto this planet, you are literally connected to the spirit world, since their soul needs to transport into this 3rd dimension.

We are connected to all the mothers who gave birth before us, until we came here to do our job. So realizing how powerful we are, how unique — this gift, the womb, holds a lot of knowledge. And knowing that, we can take a moment to ask why she is pinching us to death during that last week of the month.

What does this look like, you might ask. Let me go a bit deeper.

Somehow, my awareness heightens. The way someone says something to me suddenly lands like a punch in my stomach.

I noticed how all these punches felt like I was constantly doing something wrong. I couldn’t ask for the time without becoming a brat, impatient. Asking for clarification suddenly made me stupid. A different morning routine for our pets made me unreliable. And so it goes on.

I asked myself, multiple times that week — what am I doing wrong? What can I do to not do something “wrong”?

I closed up. Locked myself in my room to gather strength again. Until I went looking for connection again and — BOOM. Now I was hard, selfish, because after years of suffering I chose to tell a few people how I felt, and that ended our relationship. No — in their eyes, I became the one who ends relationships like it’s nothing.

But I just didn't get it — I didn't feel like this cold and careless b*tch.

I knew I closed up because I didn't feel safe enough to open my heart back up — but how do you tell someone that? Do I want to tell someone that? Because then I'm only trying to prove myself, right? And that is something I just didn't want anymore. Take me like how you see me or leave me. But maybe, I had to leave them.. because I couldn't change how they see me and how they express about me. Because I made a promise to myself: I'm not going to change myself just to fit someone's expectations.

With tears in my eyes, I left my house. Not the first time I’ve left a house with this feeling of not belonging. But again — why. What is there still to learn. Why can I only hear what I’m not doing right, in the eyes of someone else’s made-up rulebook. Also realizing I’m not the only one who is not good enough. How few people there are who actually qualify. Because like the rest, I became cold.

After sitting with all of it, a small question arose: if there are only people who don’t appreciate you — because that’s just how it is — then why aren’t you surrounded by people who do?

I asked myself: Am I not appreciating them enough? Or am I surrounding myself with the wrong people?

Back to our womb: if she hadn’t given me this pain, I would never have gone into this over-analytical state. The pain went so deep that I had to reach for answers, because I started questioning everything that hurt.

I do believe we could do this daily — but if you’re not taking your time, your body will start to speak up and take hold of you. We are lucky to have our bleed every month, so we don’t have to break a toe just to sit on our butt and start analyzing our mind and feelings.

Perhaps going into your bleed you can go into it with this awareness and see how that week will feel for you. I know I will next month.. will you be there.. If I post another article? :)

Extend my time here by buying my next coffee through buymeacoffee.com/juultje

As a Projector (HD) and being on the Autism Spectrum it’s a struggle in this society to manage my time and energy - it will help me enormous if you’d support me so I can keep sharing my wisdom to decrease our collective suffering 🫀

Let me explain.

For years I’ve been hoping to attract a loving partner. I know I’m not the only one.
But somehow it’s just not working out.

Until recently, something finally clicked.

Let me rewind. My last relationship was 7 years ago. After that break-up, it just didn’t work out anymore.

Besides really loving him, deep down I already knew it wasn’t going to work. Being claimed felt fun the first few months — after that it felt hostile. He was too afraid to lose me, so I wasn’t allowed to do a lot of things. I did them anyway, because exploring and going outside was too important to me. When I brought up separation he went wild, mentioning doing dangerous things to himself because he couldn’t live without me. From that point on, I made myself a miserable partner so he’d eventually be okay with splitting up. Crazy, I know.

The relationship lasted about two years. After our vacation I mentioned going our separate ways — and very easily, via message, he accepted. I never spoke to him again. Only later did I find out he already had someone else. The same girl he’d been speaking to before and during getting to know me. That felt like such a waste. It raised my bar. But not high enough.

After months of feeling miserable I discovered dating apps. Back then I only attracted men who didn’t know what they wanted. I, on the other hand, didn’t even know that stage existed. Dating meant to me: spending time together, getting to know each other, moving toward something. That never happened. But I gave myself completely anyway. Sexually too.

Writing this, I wish that little girl had an older sister. Someone who could have told her how to enter dating without being used. Someone who could have just told her her worth.

I’m glad I can count the guys I’ve dated on one hand. I had to go through those painful, cringe-worthy periods to discover how I want to be treated. It was a constant play between being too kind, too sweet, saying yes to everything — versus learning to say no to protect myself. I only knew the first script. The good-girl script. Say yes. Please everybody.

Apparently the only way to learn how to say no is to be hurt. Over and over again.

Every new guy I met, I became a little delusional. I only wanted to see him through the eyes of God — and missed every red flag because of it.

My first boundary came when I stopped letting dates happen at someone’s house. When I held that line, I quickly realized he also didn’t want to take me outside — somewhere people could see us — or continue to another date. Sad. But it was my first boundary.

After that came the men who took me to nice dinners, extended dates, different places. Only to find out they never wanted anything serious. My second boundary formed: I want full commitment. Not something half-in.

Then I learned about masks. Guys who gaslight you into something, only to let you go once they’re satisfied. So I learned to wait. To watch. To not give myself before I was sure.

Then came my most recent date. Six years of personal development later. I was convinced this was my time.

He picked me up at my house. Held the passenger door open. Greeted me with a hug. I felt it immediately — that flutter, that hope. The first days were intense and all in. But I stood my ground. That was the difference this time.

After a girls’ weekend, he pulled back. My gut knew immediately. Then his message came. He didn’t want to see me anymore. No explanation.

My heart sank. But I accepted it. I genuinely thanked him for our time together.

The days after, I fell into a black hole.

He kept coming back into my mind. Not just him — all of them. All the others too.

I wanted to reach out, so badly. Like I always did with the others. Maybe if I just say this one thing — it will change his mind. But I didn't. He had the time to see who I was. I was not going to put on a different show just to get him on my side. Because then what? Was I even being authentic? I was tired. His loss.

Around that same time I was in a burnout. My father was barely present. Five months living at my grandmother’s — and I heard from him twice. The first time felt like recognition. The second time he called to argue. I was at my lowest point.

Late at night I walked for hours. Sobbing. Listening to music. Looking up at the stars. Asking why, why, why. Why does no one stay. Why is my father so distant. Why am I in this position.

So I called my mom. I cried my eyes out. I was in disbelief. My father — living on the other side of the world, calling me every three months for an update, for years — suddenly had an opinion on how I was living my life. I was in a burnout. At my lowest point. And his words were: you’re sitting on your lazy ass doing nothing. Go to a psychologist.

The audacity.

But what broke me wasn’t the anger. It was that I needed his support. And he gave me his disapproval instead. We hadn’t seen each other in three years — yet he went on holiday with his girlfriend to a place close by. And the little girl in me hoped. Hoped he would just show up at the front door.

He didn’t.

And that’s when I saw it. That exact hope — I had felt it before. With my date. With all of them. Waiting for someone to just show up. Without me having to ask.

I was never choosing unavailable men.
I was choosing my father.
Over and over again.

It took me a long time to sit with that. Because realizing you are the pattern is not easy. But it was the most liberating thing I have ever seen.

It was never just the men. Yes and no — but mostly, it was the decisions I kept making. The patterns I kept choosing.

The men who disappeared showed me where I needed to draw a line around my energy. The ones who stayed halfway showed me where I needed to ask for my needs out loud.

And my father — I never asked him either. I just assumed that one day he would read my mind and show up. Consistent. Interested. Loving. But that’s not how it works. Not in my life. And probably not in yours either.

Both — the men and my father — were there to teach me the same thing. How to set a boundary. Something I had never learned.

Not just in dating. In work. In friendships. In family. Everywhere.

I recently moved to Ibiza. And funny enough, the energy here is testing every single one of those boundaries. Hard. Because believe me — I already went under here too.

But this time, I saw it coming.

So maybe, it’s not them.
Maybe it’s you.

And that should not scare you — it should free you.

Because if you are the common denominator, you are also the solution. You can call back your power instead of giving it away and hoping that one day something outside of you will finally change.

What helped me was simple: silence. Writing down every moment I had to cry. Every unanswered question. Because in that moment you’re already setting a new bar — you’re asking for answers. And slowly, you start to notice them. In a line from a video. A podcast. A book. A friend’s story. Something that happens in your life that suddenly makes a piece click.

Only you can figure it out. But you won’t have to do it alone. There will be people who hold your hand and fly next to you while you go into it all.

No worries, my dear sister or brother.
All will be well. 🫀

Eight years ago you were sitting on your bed. The bed in the apartment where you were completely alone for the first time. You had just come home from the office. Eight hours of work. Two hours in the car. It was hard — but everyone did it.

So you did it too.

Your body wasn’t cooperating. You were exhausted. Your hair was falling out. Your skin was breaking out. The family had fallen apart completely and projected their opinions on you. You and mum didn’t speak the same language. Dad was in another country — and wanted to see you, but that wasn’t allowed. Your boyfriend was drowning in jealousy, calling it love.

You looked up at the night sky and asked:

Why do I feel so lonely, even when I’m with friends or family?
What does any of this mean?
Why is all of this happening to me?
Why are there so many errors in this world?
What am I supposed to do with all of this?
What AM I suppose to do in.. general?

This was only the beginning of your awakening. Your search for meaning. The beginning of understanding how food shaped how you felt. Why the work drained you. Why certain people were draining you. What was broken in your family. How your love life was going to transform. How you learned to set boundaries, quit the Good Girl Act, choose yourself. But what is.. yourself?

How to never lose hope, with an energy that was constantly there. The Creator. God. Guides. Higher Self. Universe. Gaia. Mother Earth. Jesus. Mary.

A synchronicity that always nurtured you. Understood you. Felt you. But how did I grow into this relationship?

If you recognise this feeling — the exhaustion, the questions, the quiet knowing that there has to be more — then this is for you.

I’m not here to give you answers. I’m here to sit with you in the questions.

Welcome, dear Sister or Brother 🫀

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