After I was out with burnout, laying on the couch, not knowing what needed to come next, I discovered the book "The Pathless Path." I knew the idea from Instagram: something about letting go of all the paths we think we should take because society, parents, our surroundings say so. The book, most fittingly, was about burnout and letting go of the default path as a way to live a fulfilled life.
Towards the end of my sick leave, I had to let go of everything at once. I had to let go of my job and my position at a startup I co-founded to protect my health. I had to let go of my flat to reduce my costs. I had to let go of most of my belongings to downsize. I had to let go of my grandmother, who died. I had to let go of a connection with a woman I valued very much. I had to let go of the idea of who I was and how I earned money, not knowing what I should do next.
I didn't know what I wanted to do, didn't know where I wanted to be or who I wanted to become. I had to let it all go, let it all burn to the ground to become the next version of me. This sounds dramatic, and I can assure you that it wasn't easy. But I endured and was able to forge a path for myself after the path ahead of me disappeared.
We've all heard it before: that when everything disappears, we can build something truly authentic that suits our needs. That we can become a version of ourselves so aligned that we can't help but shine brighter than the sun. That we radiate.
And it is indeed what happened to me. This time of hardship, uncertainty and directionlessness, it was meant to teach me things that helped me build a path for myself, to build a foundation for what was to come. It showed me that I needed to treat myself better. It showed me that I can ask for way more than I think I deserve. And above all, it showed me how far I'd come, what I'm capable of. I got to appreciate myself on a completely new level.
It was all necessary to happen like it happened so I could learn what I learned, to become who I am. It pressured me to think of myself in a new way. It showed me the vision of a life I'd always wanted but never allowed myself to want - a vision I always thought I didn't deserve. Above all, it showed me the difference between how I support, show up for, and think of others and how I support, show up for, and think of myself.
After learning that I can allow myself to ask for more, that I deserved more, after getting clear on my life's vision, it became clear to me that what I really wanted was to work with people for people. I want to contribute to their story, to have a positive impact and take my experiences and share them. I want to support others on their path and lend a helping hand. I want to enable others to ask for what they truly want and deserve.
Being a CTO is demanding - you're always in tension with other departments, under pressure for delivery and quality, managing goals that seem to contradict themselves. The expectations are high, and the technical challenges are just the surface. What I learned is that the real work happens in the spaces between people, in how we show up for each other, in how we create environments where people can do their best work.
That's where I want to focus now - on helping leaders navigate not just the technical challenges, but the human ones. On supporting people through their own moments of having to let go and rebuild. Because I know what it's like to stand in the ashes of everything you thought you were and discover that you're still here, still whole, still capable of creating something beautiful.
The path isn't clear yet, and I'm still figuring it out day by day. But I know now that uncertainty isn't something to fix - it's something to dance with. And that's exactly what I want to help others learn too.