Lioness, Unleashed: What Grief, a Broken System, and a Global Freak Show Taught Me About Power
I have something painful to share, and I am sharing it anyway. It changed how I see life and my place in it.
From people-pleaser to ghost
I used to be a certified people pleaser, the nice girl next door with the big smile. I shaped myself around everyone else, making sure they were comfortable, running on self-erasure I called service, pretending I was fine. The ideal healthcare professional on paper.
It emptied me out. Not because of the people I met, but because of how I kept abandoning myself inside a system that rewarded overgiving and underpaying. The format, the hours, the rules, the nonstop stories and needs and energetics — all of it. I could hold space for a village and still go home feeling like a ghost in my own life.
The underworld of grief
Then the unthinkable happened. We lost our newborn son after almost 48 hours. My husband and I fell into the deepest, darkest pit of despair, devastation and grief imaginable. And we survived.
There is an underworld to grief that does not care about polite conversation or tidy coping strategies. It strips you. It leaves only what is true.
I decided then and there I would never again be swallowed by narrow-mindedness or small-minded respectability. No fussing over the irrelevant to keep the peace. No small talk to avoid the real. No work or circles that do not earn my energy. Me and my family first. What truly matters gets my life force.
The unglamorous aftermath
That reads powerful on the page. The unglamorous part is the aftermath. People who felt sorry for me and still needed their rightful big piece of me, preferably fast. People eager to tell me their grief stories while I was still carrying mine. So I stapled the smile back on and delivered, even when I had nothing left to give. The show must go on, right?
The lioness awakens
Apparently, I needed one more major kick in the butt. I had already been quietly questioning things, diving into rabbit holes few people want you to mention at dinner. Then March 2020 rolled in. Not the disease as such, but the way power handled it and the way society complied.
Something primal in me was poked awake. The lioness rose.
My bottom line has always been the same: do not touch or harm my children. Do not undermine my sovereignty as a mother. Full stop.
Turning shit into gold
If I could skip the grief and upheaval, I would. And still, it forged me. It sped up what I was inching toward in my comfortable, polite pace. It propelled me. I would not trade the growth, the expanded awareness, the clean sense of sovereignty it brought.
This, to me, is real alchemy. Turning shit into gold. Not abstract. Lived.
So I do not fuss about the unimportant now. I keep my energetic sanity. I live on my terms. Not because I am cold or mean — though if you only knew the old people-pleaser without boundaries, you might think so.
I choose this because I want to live well and model that for my kids. I want to be a good human in the truest way I know, aligned with my principles even when the world would prefer I soften, change or stay quiet. A human full of love, laughter and gratefulness, but not a pushover.
The uncorked bottle
My life and choices have to match my spirit. When you feel that click, strong and undeniable, that is your source speaking. That is the real deal. Once you know, you cannot unknow. The bottle is uncorked.
I am not here to turn anyone into an activist b*tch. I am here to guide you to stand 100 percent in your truth and power and to navigate every part of your life by that compass.
These first steps run deep, because real sovereignty reshapes everything: relationships, work, how you spend your hours and your energy. I am bringing all of me, on my terms, as promised.
This is not your usual empowerment fluff; no coaching lingo, no corporate dialect. No endless sales pitch, no marketing funnels, no endless discussions in DMs. You are game or you are not. Simple as that.
If this is meant for you, you do not need convincing. Not about my method, not about the details. Your bones already know. This is big and ancient.
What you get, for real
No fixes. This: a switch. After that, you cannot go back to small. The genie is out, and she does not do cages.
Love, Annemarijn
The painting is made by Ewa Rzeznik. It is not made especially fór me, but to me, it is. My son Klaasje and me, standing on the shore. Him wearing the little woollen skipper jacket I already had bought for him, which he never got to wear in real live…
When I saw it standing on the ground in an art gallery, it hit me like a ton of bricks. I NEEDED this painting in our home. So happy we could purchase it!