On a personal note.

Oct 29, 2025

4 min read

I wanted to be a psychologist before I even knew what psychologists actually did.

(Well, okay—first I wanted to be a princess. But after that very brief and realistic career aspiration, I decided: psychology.)

I was going to understand people. Help them. Make sense of why we do the ridiculous things we do.

Spoiler alert: Psychology had no clue either.

The Part Where I Spend Five Years Learning Nothing Useful

I got into a top-15 university in the Netherlands. Studied my ass off. Got good grades. Read all the research papers. Learned all the theories.

And by my final year, I was completely disillusioned.

Clinical psychology? A list of diagnoses that put people in boxes but offered zero solutions for getting them out.

Neuroscience? Fascinating in theory. Useless in practice. "Your amygdala is overactive!" Cool. Now what?

Treatment options? Medication (that barely works) or talk therapy (that takes years and maybe helps 30% of people).

Five years of education. And I still had no idea how to actually help someone heal.

So I did what any disillusioned psychology graduate does: I got a corporate job and pretended that was fine.

The Part Where Corporate Life Nearly Kills My Soul

I joined a consulting firm in Amsterdam. Told myself I'd work with people, use my psychology background, make a difference.

Then COVID hit.

Suddenly I was working from home, staring at spreadsheets, attending Zoom meetings where everyone's camera was off and no one really cared.

I was 26. I had the "good job" everyone said I should want. And I was miserable.

Two years in, I had a moment of clarity: I was building a life I didn't even like.

So I quit. Left the Netherlands. Bought a one-way ticket to Bali.

(My parents were thrilled, as you can imagine.)

The Part Where I Try Everything and Nothing Works

I didn't go to Bali to "find myself" or become a spiritual influencer. I went because I loved yoga and needed a fucking break.

But once I was there, I started exploring. Breathwork. Energy healing. Shadow work. Journaling. Meditation. All the things that Instagram says will change your life.

And here's the truth: Some of it helped. A little.

Breathwork left me exhausted and crying on a mat, feeling raw but not actually different.

Journaling gave me insights but didn't clear anything. I just had a very well-documented list of my problems.

Some of the spiritual practices felt performative—big emotions, lots of crying, everyone saying "wow, such a powerful release!" But the next day? The pattern was still there.

I hit what I call the 30% Better Plateau.

You know what I mean if you've been there. You're not as bad as you were. But you're not free either. You're just... managing. Coping. Surviving a little better.

And I was tired of surviving.

The Part Where Everything Changed (Finally)

October 2023. I'm scrolling Instagram (as one does when avoiding real work) and I see someone mention Rapid Resolution Therapy.

I'd never heard of it. But I was skeptical as hell because I'd heard about a lot of things at this point.

Still, I signed up for a 40-hour introductory course. Mostly because I had nothing better to do and I was curious.

And within the first session, I was hooked.

Not because it was woo-woo or magical. But because it made sense in a way nothing else had.

RRT was everything I'd been searching for:

It worked with the subconscious, not just the conscious mind (finally!)
It cleared trauma without making you relive it (revolutionary)
It was fast—often 1-3 sessions, not years
It felt gentle—no retraumatization, no picking scabs

It was like aloe vera for your mind. Soothing, effective, and it actually worked.

The Part Where I Had to Unlearn Everything

Here's the thing about RRT: it required me to unlearn five years of psychology education.

Psychology taught me: Analyze the problem. Understand the root cause. Talk about it until the person "processes" it.

RRT taught me: Your subconscious doesn't care about understanding. It cares about updating. And when you speak its language—through metaphor, through reframing, through pattern interrupts—change happens fast.

I watched Jon Connelly (the founder) work with people. One session. Trauma that had controlled their entire life for decades? Cleared. Gone. Neutralized.

The person would say some version of: "I know it happened. I can remember it. It just doesn't feel bad anymore."

And I thought: THIS. This is what I've been looking for since before I even started studying psychology.

This is what actually helps people.

The Part Where I Became a Practitioner

I started practicing RRT with friends. With people in the RRT community. With anyone who would let me.

And every single session, I watched the same thing happen:

Halfway through, they'd say: "I already feel lighter."

By the end: "It's just... gone. I keep waiting for it to come back but it's not there."

This wasn't 30% better. This was actual, permanent resolution.

And I knew—with the kind of certainty I hadn't felt about anything in years—this was what I was meant to do.

Not corporate consulting. Not traditional psychology. This.

What This Means for You

If you've been stuck in therapy for months or years, rehashing the same pain with minimal progress—it's not because you're unfixable.

It's because the method you're using isn't designed to actually clear anything. It's designed to help you cope.

RRT is different.

It works with your subconscious to clear trauma, anxiety, limiting beliefs, self-sabotage—whatever's been stuck—often in 1-3 sessions.

I offer sessions online in English and German (because I'm bilingual and why not use that psychology degree for something).

And here's what my clients tell me:

They feel lighter halfway through the first session. By the end, the thing that's been weighing them down for years? Neutral. Just information. No longer running their life.

That's not management. That's resolution.