Maybe is wasn’t just bad luck

For a long time, I thought I was simply remarkably unlucky in love. Different man, different story, but somehow I kept ending up with remarkably similar problems. Communication, in particular, seemed to be a bit of an issue. The last man I was in a relationship with even blocked my number. At that point, communication could literally only go one way: mine.

Looking back, I almost find it funny how much time I spent trying to figure out why they did what they did. Why doesn’t someone want to talk? Why does someone pull away? Why does he say one thing and then do another? I could think about it for hours, and probably talk about it with my friends for even longer. And of course, there is plenty you can say about someone else’s behaviour. It just didn’t change very much for me.

That only started to happen when I asked a different question: why do I keep finding myself in this situation?

That’s quite a different way of looking at things. Not because it suddenly makes you responsible for someone else’s behaviour. If someone blocks your number, they’re still the one who did it. But when certain situations, feelings or dynamics keep repeating themselves in your life, I find it much more interesting to explore what there is to discover than to conclude, yet again, that the other person simply can’t communicate.

As it turned out, there was quite a lot for me to discover.

I thought, for example, that I desperately wanted that particular man. Until I began to see that what I really wanted was what I thought I would get through him. Attention. Validation. The feeling of being chosen, seen, special. And strangely enough, someone who didn’t naturally give me those things could become incredibly important to me precisely because of that.

That insight changed far more for me than yet another analysis of his behaviour ever had.

That’s roughly where my work begins

I’ve become fascinated by the things that keep repeating themselves in our lives. By our reactions, our judgements, the stories we tell ourselves about what’s happening and, most of all, what’s underneath them. And not just in romantic relationships. The same things can show up in friendships, in your family, at work or in the relationship you have with yourself.

What I’m not particularly interested in is telling you what you should do.

You need to let go. You need to set boundaries. You need to choose yourself. You need to love yourself more.

Maybe. But what good is knowing all of that if you already know it and still don’t do it?

I’m much more interested in why you do what you do. What do you get out of it? What are you trying to gain or avoid? Why can one person’s behaviour leave you completely unaffected, while someone else can ruin your entire day with a single comment? And what might you not be seeing because you’ve become so convinced that the story you’re telling yourself is true?

That’s why I ask a lot of questions. (Possibly an irritating number of them sometimes…)

Not because I already know the answer (I don’t) and I’m hoping you’ll eventually arrive at the right one. Quite the opposite. I ask questions because I’ve seen, time and again, what a good question can uncover. Something you’ve already thought about a hundred times can suddenly look completely different when someone asks you precisely the question you hadn’t thought to ask yourself.

That’s the power of good questions to me. They don’t give you my answer. They help you see something you couldn’t see before.

One good question can change more than 101 pieces of advice.

I don’t just know that from my work. The biggest changes in my own life didn’t start with good advice. They started with a good question.

From reaction to taking the lead

Ultimately, that’s what LAQ is about for me. (LAQ stands for Like A Queen. Not because I think you should parade through life like royalty, but because, to me, a queen represents taking the lead in your own life.)

It’s not about hoping and trying to get other people to finally behave the way you’d like them to. It’s not about never being triggered again. And it’s certainly not about becoming some perfect version of yourself who floats through life forever calm, sensible and completely healed. That’s an illusion nobody can live up to.

It’s about learning to see what happens when you react to something. Understanding why it affects you. Discovering the meaning you give it and the role you play in the dynamic that develops.

Because once you can see that, space opens up. And in that space, you have a choice.

Sometimes that means having a different conversation. Sometimes it means setting a boundary. Sometimes you discover that something you’ve considered terrible for years has also given you something. And sometimes you realise there is actually nothing you need to fix, except perhaps the story you’ve come to believe about it.

That’s what taking the lead means to me. Not making sure you always get what you want, but becoming increasingly aware of where your influence actually lies.

Let’s talk!

If you recognise something of yourself in this story and you’re curious about what might change if you looked at what you’re struggling with from a different angle, book a coffee call with me.

You tell me what’s going on, and I’ll probably ask questions. Together, we’ll look at what’s happening, where you’re getting stuck and what you might not have looked at yet.

Perhaps during that conversation we’ll discover that I can help you further. If so, I’ll tell you more about how I work and we can talk about whether you’d like to continue working with me.

And if not, hopefully we’ll both have had an interesting conversation.

The crown, by the way, is optional. 👑😄