redefining rebellion - a path to softness & coming home

We all have stories—narratives shaped by fear, loss, and the search for belonging. For years, I lived in extremes, swinging between numbing myself and chasing intensity, mistaking recklessness for freedom. Only in the moments of solitude and loss did I begin to find myself. And I learned something unexpected: rebellion doesn’t always have to be loud or destructive. Sometimes, it’s soft. Sometimes, it’s simply choosing to slow down, to feel, to stop running.

welcome to my story.

growing up in fear

I spent my childhood in a beach town near Cape Town, South Africa. On the surface, it was a paradise of sun, sand, and adventure, but beneath it lay a constant undercurrent of fear. We lived with the reality of power cuts, burglaries, and the ever-present need to look over our shoulders. The worst moment came when our home was broken into by armed men. Though we escaped unharmed, the weight of that night never left us. Eventually, my parents made the difficult decision to move to Germany in search of safety.

a new home that never felt like home

At twelve, I arrived in Germany—a country that, in many ways, had always been part of me. My mother was German, and I spoke the language fluently. Yet, despite this, I never felt like I truly belonged. The move triggered an overwhelming sense of anxiety, and instead of finding comfort in my new home, I felt like an outsider. I shut down parts of myself, believing that if I hardened my exterior, I could protect what was left inside. I disconnected from my emotions, rejected my softness, and leaned into control, dominance, and rebellion.

living in extremes

For years, I mistook rebellion for destruction. I ran away, broke rules, surrounded myself with chaos, and numbed myself in any way I could. I filled my body with toxic substances, disconnected from my intuition, and lived entirely through ego. Anger and frustration drove me, and I sought out intensity to escape the unbearable silence within me. I convinced myself that freedom meant pushing every limit. But in reality, I was only running further from myself.

searching for freedom, finding emptiness

After high school, I left everything behind to backpack across the world, believing that movement equaled liberation. I traveled through breathtaking landscapes, met incredible people, and embraced the unknown. But no matter where I went, the numbness followed. I still felt empty, still felt lost. I was learning the hard way that freedom doesn’t come from external experiences—it has to be built within.

when the world finally stood still

Then, unexpectedly, the world stopped. During my university years, I found myself in a codependent relationship that magnified my fears and insecurities. When I left for Australia, the anxiety was overwhelming, and I drowned myself in distraction—drinking, sleepless nights, a desperate attempt to fit in. I betrayed someone I loved, not out of malice, but out of fear of feeling alone.

And then, COVID hit.

Lockdowns were announced, and for the first time, I didn’t have to chase anything. The world no longer expected me to keep up. In that forced stillness, I exhaled. And for the first time in years, I allowed myself to just be. I sat with the void I had spent so long avoiding. And in that quiet, I started listening—to my body, my emotions, my truth. I reconnected with creativity, with the simple joys of reading, movement, and presence. And I began to understand that true rebellion isn’t about breaking the world’s rules—it’s about rewriting your own.

leaving again, but differently

After years of stillness, I knew Germany no longer aligned with me. But this time, I wasn’t running. I was choosing.

I sold my belongings, packed a single bag, and left for Central America—not to escape, but to explore a new way of living.

I immersed myself in new cultures, breathtaking landscapes, and deep introspection. But healing is never linear. Old patterns resurfaced. Anxiety crept back in. And then, I found myself in the last place I ever expected—a cult in Paraguay.

learning the hard way

My parents had also longed for escape and found what they believed was a fresh start in a Paraguayan “community.” It wasn’t the stereotypical cult of robes and rituals, but a well-disguised system of hierarchy, control, and power. I arrived with open eyes and an open heart, but it didn’t take long for the illusion to shatter.

Amidst the dysfunction, I fell in love, clinging to the idea of something real in a deeply unreal environment. But love, when built on shaky foundations, only brings more destruction.

I left, broken but free, seeking solitude in the jungles of Paraguay. And there, in the quiet, surrounded by puppies and untouched nature, I finally allowed myself to truly grieve for months. For everything I had lost. For the years of running. For the person I had abandoned over and over again.

choosing the gentle path

From Paraguay, I returned to Costa Rica, a place that had once felt like home. I convinced a friend to join me, believing I was finally ready to settle. We surfed, lived in nature, and embraced slow living. But the weight of my past hadn’t fully lifted. I reached rock bottom once more, realising that even in paradise, I couldn’t escape the work I still needed to do.

one last attempt of resistance

Feeling defeated, I returned to Germany, a decision that felt like a major setback and contradicted everything I had worked towards. Old patterns reemerged with startling ease, and the familiar surroundings brought a renewed sense of emptiness. Revisiting my old hometown and reconnecting with past acquaintances left me feeling unexpectedly hollow. It became clear why I had left years ago. This return was my final attempt to hold onto an old version of myself, driven by fear of embracing my true identity. Yet, this return marked the beginning of a new chapter in my journey, setting the stage for deeper healing and self-discovery.

coming home, finally

Ultimately, I made a choice I never thought I’d make: to move to Austria. Now, I find myself living in a conservative little village, a place that feels worlds away from the vibrant chaos of my past. It’s a setting I never planned for, but it’s become a crucial part of my journey.

The quiet life here, though different from what I once imagined, has given me the space to begin reparenting myself and addressing the wounds I had previously avoided. The routine and structure of daily life, combined with the serene beauty of the Austrian countryside, have created the perfect foundation for settling into myself.

Aside from work, I spend most of my time immersed in nature, which is deeply rewiring my nervous system. Engaging in activities outside my comfort zone that are in alignment with myself are helping me align with who I am becoming. This environment allows me to slowly live, attend to the love I’ve found, reach out to like-minded people, and set boundaries without waiting for them to come to me.

This period, though incredibly challenging and marked by feeling out of control and alone, is necessary for my long-lasting healing. The seemingly ordinary aspects of my life here are crucial in working through my past and laying the groundwork for a more authentic and fulfilling existence.

rebellion, redefined

For most of my life, I thought rebellion meant rejecting everything—rules, expectations, even stability. Now, I see it differently. True rebellion is reclaiming yourself. It’s choosing presence over distraction, healing over running, softness over resistance.

I am still learning. Still growing. Still embracing the in-between. Although I am not fully healed or in complete control, this uncertainty reveals that I am reconnecting with my true self and intuition. Freedom, I’ve realised, is not about being rootless; it’s about being unapologetically yourself. The universe gives us only what we can handle, never more. True freedom and a sense of home are found within. Creativity has become more than just an outlet; it’s a way of life. It’s about creating possibilities, breaking away from conventional norms, and inspiring others through authenticity, love, and self-expression.

I no longer need to fill the void—I can sit with it. And that, I think, is the bravest thing I’ve ever done.