A new insight often arrives unexpectedly; a spark of awareness that interrupts your day. These moments can be intense, sometimes even life-changing. Think back to learning how to ride a bike as a child. At first there’s effort, wobbling, maybe frustration, and then suddenly; you’re riding. A rush of joy, almost euphoria.
For adults, insights rarely follow such a clear path. We can roughly distinguish between deliberate, goal-oriented learning and sudden realisations. From a psychological perspective, these experiences activate different systems in the brain. When we spend an hour working on something new, the mind tries to absorb and integrate information step by step. But when a sudden insight hits; triggered by an experience, an image, a short interaction; it often feels immediate. Fast, direct cognition kicks in and makes meaning on the spot.
Insight can be transformative. It can shift the way we think and act. Yet not every insight is beneficial. Misplaced insights can have harmful consequences. In their search for meaning, some people are drawn towards extreme beliefs. They may genuinely feel they are doing something good, but they’re being guided by a distorted understanding of what they “see”.
Still, insight is one of the most powerful tools for growth. Learning; especially when we actively explore new ideas; keeps the mind sharp and alive. The beautiful thing is that we can invite insight, rather than waiting for it to strike. Conversations can be a rich source, especially when we choose topics that challenge us to look differently. My grandmother had a word for surface-level small talk, but real conversation is far more nourishing.
Reading books, watching meaningful films, studying a new subject; all of these can open doors. But it is just as valuable to pause and reflect. Reflection is available to all of us, and it can do wonders for mental health.
Let your thoughts move through you and observe them without judgement. Sit quietly. Let thoughts appear and pass. Don’t push them away, don’t grab onto them; simply watch. This is a form of cognitive meditation. It often leads to fresh insight, and it supports the mind in a way that’s similar to mindfulness practice.
So start today. Seek new perspectives. Stay curious. Keep your mind active and open; it’s one of the most powerful ways to support psychological resilience and brain health.
I didn’t become a queer therapist because it sounded like a clever niche. I became one because I kept seeing the same pattern; queer people doing all the translating.
Translating themselves in every room. Softening their words. Checking whether it’s safe before they speak. Explaining the basics. Smiling through the discomfort. And if you’re also neurodivergent, that effort doubles; because many neurodivergent people already grew up masking, scanning, adjusting, performing “normal” until it becomes muscle memory.
Over time, that kind of constant adaptation doesn’t just make you tired. It can make you lose touch with yourself. You stop knowing what you want, what you feel, what’s yours and what’s survival. People call it stress or anxiety or “just being overwhelmed.” Sometimes it is. Sometimes it’s something deeper; a nervous system that has spent too long staying alert in places that never quite felt safe.
When I found my way into therapy myself, I realised something simple. Techniques matter, but recognition matters just as much. Many therapists are skilled and kind, but queer clients still often end up educating, correcting assumptions, or shrinking parts of themselves to be understood. I wanted to offer a space where that isn’t necessary.
So I became the therapist I wish more of us had access to; someone who gets the overlap between queerness and neurodivergence, and how it shows up in the body. Someone who won’t pathologise difference, but will take your pain seriously. Someone who can hold both humour and depth, both clarity and softness.
Queer isn’t the problem. Neurodivergence isn’t the problem. The problem is how often people have to disappear to be acceptable.
My work is about helping you come back to yourself; with less performance, less apology, and more room to breathe.
Inner conflicts in your mind aren’t that different from disagreements in a team. Most of us have an inner dialogue; sometimes it even turns into a full-blown debate. I often hear people say, “A part of me wants this, but at the same time I want something else.” That sentence is usually more accurate than we realise.
We all have different parts or sub-personalities. Each part is essentially a coping mechanism; a survival strategy that exists to protect you.
For example, many hardworking people have a part often called the Driver (sometimes also “the Pusher”). This coping strategy pushes you to work harder. It’s efficient, loves goals, and can be quite self-focused. Sometimes the Driver pushes so relentlessly that it leads to burnout. People with a strong Driver often carry the belief that they are only valuable if they achieve and perform.
Another common part is the Pleaser. This part tends to show up strongly in people who prioritise social harmony. The Pleaser is communicative and helpful, but it can become so focused on others that you lose track of your own needs.
But we are human beings, not walking coping mechanisms. These parts are only parts of us. Your Driver is not “you”; it’s an aspect of you that developed for a reason.
Most people have dozens of parts. How active each part is depends on factors such as your childhood and your current environment; how safe you feel, how seen you feel. The more often you rely on a specific part, the more prominent it becomes. Sometimes a coping strategy can even temporarily “take over”, so to speak. Those are the moments when you look back and think, “Why did I say that?” or “Why did I do that?”
Imagine you are a self-driving bus. All your parts have their own seat on that bus. Some sit near the front; these are the parts you use most often. Others sit further back.
Most of the time the bus runs smoothly, but sometimes one (or more) parts becomes so strong that it grabs the steering wheel. In those moments it can feel as if they are driving you. That’s when you don’t recognise your own behaviour, or you regret it afterwards.
It can also happen that two parts fight over the steering wheel. In those moments you can’t choose between two options.
For example: the Driver insists you finish that last email before you go home, while the Pleaser whispers, “You promised you’d pick up groceries.” The result is that you feel torn, or guilty, no matter what you choose.
As you can see, the mind is complex. The better you get to know your parts, the easier it becomes to recognise whether you’re acting from your grounded self; or whether you’re simply trying to survive a situation.
The way we think influences the way we dream. Some people experience dreams in vivid, sensory detail; they can hear sounds, feel textures, see colours and sometimes even smell things. Others dream more in still images, words, or in a more abstract emotional atmosphere. Our environment also shapes the content and character of our dreams. For example, some research suggests that in the past, people more often reported dreaming in black and white than they do today.
Dreams are one of the brain’s natural ways of processing experience. For people who have lived through trauma, dreams can become a space where difficult events return. These dreams can be intense or recurring; especially when the trauma is still fresh. Over time, they may gradually lose intensity. And yet certain triggers can suddenly reignite them, pulling the memory back into the night like a horror show.
Triggers are specific events, sensations, or situations that in some way resemble the original trauma. Even when the conscious mind has pushed parts of the experience away; or when details feel blurred or forgotten; the subconscious may continue to bring it forward in dreams, replaying themes and scenes that echo the past.
In that sense, dreams can be the mind’s way of signalling: something is still unresolved. There may be emotions that need attention, meaning-making, or release. The subconscious often holds the key to what hasn’t been processed yet, which is why listening to these signals can be so powerful.
Dreaming isn’t the only way the brain processes and heals. There are other therapeutic methods that can support the processing of difficult or traumatic memories. One of them is hypnotherapy, which can help you access underlying material and work through it in a guided and contained way.
Hypnosis offers a direct pathway into the subconscious, allowing people to approach the core of a problem safely, with support. Both dreams and hypnotherapy involve processing and healing; they simply move at different speeds. Learning to recognise the messages of the subconscious; through dreams or through therapeutic work; can be a powerful step towards emotional wellbeing.
Moving countries can look exciting from the outside. New start, new opportunities, fresh air. And sometimes it is exactly that. But a lot of expats I meet don’t come to therapy because they hate living abroad; they come because they feel strangely… numb, tired or disconnected, and they can’t explain why.
In the beginning you run on adrenaline. You’re organising paperwork, building routines, learning cultural rules, translating yourself all day long. You’re constantly “on”; polite, capable, functional. And because you chose this move, it can feel like you’re not allowed to struggle. You tell yourself you should be grateful.
But your nervous system doesn’t care whether a change was voluntary. Relocation stress is still stress. Losing your familiar support system, speaking a second language, navigating new social codes, living without your usual anchors; it all adds up. Many expats experience anxiety, burnout symptoms, sleep problems, low mood, loneliness or a sense of not belonging; even when life looks good on paper.
For queer expats and neurodivergent expats, the load can be heavier. If you’re already used to masking or adapting, moving abroad can turn that into a full-time job. You might find yourself asking: Who am I here, when no one knows my history? Or: Where do I relax, when everything requires effort?
Therapy can help you find steadiness again. Not by forcing you to “think positive”, but by working with what’s actually happening in your body and mind. We build clarity, self-trust and practical ways to regulate stress. We also make space for identity shifts, grief for what you left behind and the quiet pressure of starting over.
If you’re an expat in the Netherlands and you’re functioning but not really living, you’re not broken. You’re likely overloaded. And you don’t have to do it alone.
More and more people feel lonely, unheard and unseen. Complaints like burnout and depression have become so common that burnout almost feels like a normal milestone. So normal, in fact, that it can seem unusual when someone reaches fifty and hasn’t had one. People might assume, They must have an easy job or They probably don’t have kids. Burnout can start to look like a badge of effort; proof that you’re working hard and taking adult life seriously.
But why have we started treating it that way?
Depression, on the other hand, still carries stigma. It’s more quickly seen as weakness. A “temporary burnout” might be accepted; but only if you bounce back quickly and then you’re supposed to be done with it. That logic has always felt strange to me. Why are burnout and depression showing up more often; even in young, healthy people?
To understand burnout better, it helps to recognise that it can show up in different ways. People often describe three forms:
Mental burnout (the most common):
A state of prolonged mental strain where stress stays “on” for too long. Rest stops working, focus collapses and the mind feels exhausted from constant processing.
Physical burnout:
More common in athletes or people who push their body past recovery; often described as overtraining or physical overload.
Spiritual burnout:
A crisis of meaning. You may still function, but feel empty, disconnected or unsure what it’s all for.
This blog focuses mainly on mental burnout.
Modern life asks our brain to switch tasks constantly. Notifications, screens, noise, demands and endless information keep pulling attention in different directions. That constant switching costs energy. Over time, it can create a kind of mental “overdraft”; you’re spending more than you’re restoring.
One of the simplest ways to help the nervous system reset is also one of the most overlooked: real human connection.
A good face-to-face conversation asks for focus and presence. It pulls you out of the stream of stimuli and brings you back into one moment with one person. That focus alone can lower the internal pressure. It gives your system a break from scanning, switching and reacting.
A lot of our social contact happens digitally now. It can help, and it can be meaningful; but it often comes with speed and performance pressure. You respond quickly, you multitask, you stay alert. For many people, that doesn’t land as the same kind of safety and regulation that comes from being physically with someone; hearing a voice, reading body language, sharing silence, walking side by side.
Human contact is not a luxury. It’s a biological need. It changes what happens inside the body.
If you want to lower your burnout risk, don’t start with a perfect routine. Start with one small, real action:
Pick one person and call them.
Make a plan and meet in person if you can.
Put both phones on silent.
Choose a place that feels calmer; a park, a forest, the beach, a quiet café or a tea garden.
Talk about what matters. Listen slowly. Stay with one conversation.
Even once a month can make a difference. Not because it “fixes” everything, but because it reminds your nervous system: I’m not alone. I’m safe enough to exhale.
Meaningful contact creates space inside you. It invites the body’s natural recovery processes to switch back on. Small investment, big return; mentally and physically.
As a hypnotherapist, I often get the same question at parties: “So… can you make me walk around like a chicken?”
My standard answer is: “Do you really want to be a chicken? Because then, yes; it’s possible.”
It’s a funny question, but it usually hides a deeper fear: What if I lose control in hypnosis?
Let me reassure you straight away: in hypnosis, you are always in charge. I can’t and won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. To explain why, it helps to start with the basics.
Hypnosis; or hypnotherapy; is a technique that uses guided relaxation, deep concentration and focused attention to reach a heightened state of awareness, sometimes called a trance. In that state, your attention becomes so focused that the outside world fades into the background for a while.
You can compare it to reading a truly good book; so absorbed in the story that you might not even hear the doorbell. Hypnosis works in a similar way, except your focus turns inward; towards what’s happening in your mind, body and inner experience.
For many people, hypnosis feels like a state of deep relaxation; similar to meditation. The difference is that meditation is mainly aimed at calming the system, while hypnotherapy combines relaxation with therapeutic focus on a specific theme or problem.
And to be very clear: you keep control throughout. You can pause, speak, adjust, or stop. You can also choose what you do and don’t share. You are safe in the chair.
Hypnotherapy works with the subconscious; your inner library. It’s where learned patterns, emotional associations and old protective strategies are stored. Sometimes habits (like smoking, overeating, nail-biting, people-pleasing or anxiety responses) started as a way of coping with something earlier in life. Even when the original situation is long gone, the pattern can remain.
By working with the subconscious, we can often gain insight into why a pattern developed; and create space for change.
1) Suggestion work (suggestietherapie)
In a relaxed, focused state, people can become more receptive to helpful suggestions. That’s why hypnotherapy is often used to support behaviour change; for example stopping smoking, reducing cravings, breaking habits or supporting pain management.
2) Insight and exploration
Hypnosis can also be used to explore deeper psychological roots; for example an old experience, fear, belief or memory that still influences the present. When something becomes visible and understandable, it becomes workable.
Hypnosis offers both deep relaxation and a pathway to change. It can help you access the layers where patterns live, so you can understand them and loosen them; especially when they feel “irrational” or hard to shift through willpower alone.
And no; I’m not going to make you cluck like a chicken… unless you genuinely want to.
So if you meet someone who finds hypnosis a bit scary, you can tell them this: you stay in control. Hypnotherapy is a grounded, safe way to get to know yourself better and let go of old patterns; with both feet firmly on the ground
A queer couple sits across from me, both of them closed off, silent in their chairs. I don’t have a couch like many therapists do. I believe in each person having their own space. (I’m also a hypnotherapist and hypnosis is an individual process; it often works best in a comfortable chair where you can really sit with yourself.)
Back to the silent couple. The quiet is almost tangible, but I see so much more: words, sentences, whole libraries of thoughts that need to be spoken yet stay hidden deep inside.
One woman tells me she’s focused on practical things; the dog, the house, the day-to-day logistics. She wants to move forward, but right now she can’t imagine what that would even look like. She loves her partner. She truly believed she was the one. Her partner makes her feel safe, and at the same time she feels trapped. She needs more moments alone at home, just to be with herself. Has she ever said that out loud? No.
Her partner, the other woman, tells me that since they got together she has given up many of her hobbies. She misses her outlet. She feels claimed by her girlfriend, who would prefer them to always be home together. Has she said this clearly? Yes, but only in anger, in a storm of blame. Did her message land with the care it deserved? No.
Before I do couples therapy together, I always meet with the individuals first. This is often the moment when I discover that people want the same things, but they don’t share them in a way the other can actually hear. What I do isn’t magic or higher mathematics. It’s guiding a conversation where both partners have space to speak their feelings, with respect for each other. Sometimes you need a little distance to find each other again.
The two women I’m writing about have been in couples therapy with me for a few months now. I also support them individually. We’ve made huge steps forward. This week, one partner told me it feels like she’s found her girlfriend again. She’s started mountain biking again too, with real encouragement from her partner. It’s moving to see how much can change through a few honest, well-held conversations.
As you see, I don’t just work with “standard” male/female couples. I regularly support LGBTQIA+ and queer couples, non-monogamous and polyamorous relationships, and people for whom gender is still a journey of discovery. You are welcome as you are. Love is love.
Gender identity is a deeply personal and sometimes confusing part of who we are. It shapes how we see ourselves and how we move through the world. For some people it feels straightforward, but for others, like me, it can be a long and complicated journey toward self-acceptance. With this blog, I want to share my own story in the hope it offers recognition or support to anyone who might be walking a similar path.
As a child, I always felt different. I didn’t fit with the girls, but I wasn’t a boy either. While my female classmates acted out soap storylines with their Barbie dolls and often wore dresses and skirts, I ran around in old scuffed shoes, an oversized jumper, and jeans with dirty knees. I climbed trees and played with toy cars. I didn’t understand the giggling or the social cohesion among the girls at all.
When I was a teenager, I called myself a “tomboy” simply because I didn’t have any other words to describe who I was. It felt like the only way to explain my difference without having to answer further questions.
Growing up, I had never heard terms like transgender or non-binary. Those words probably existed, but they were far away from my world. Society offered very little space for fluidity in gender back then. You were either a boy or a girl and that was that.
Years later, when a close friend came out as a trans man, something in me began to shift. His openness about his own journey made me think. I wanted to understand what it meant to be transgender, to not experience your body and identity as a given. I started reading, learning, and discovering more and more about the diversity of gender. At the same time, I noticed I recognised myself in what I was learning.
A whole world opened up for me. A world where gender didn’t have to be fixed, where there was room for nuance, for grey areas, and for everything in between. The more I learned, the clearer it became that I didn’t fit into the binary picture of man or woman either.
I knew I was queer. As a teenager I already knew I could be attracted to both men and women. I called myself bisexual until I learned more about the many variations of gender and attraction that exist within the LGBTQ+ spectrum. The word pansexual felt like a better fit for my attraction. But my gender, and what word I could use for it, remained difficult.
Four years ago, I finally found a term that fits me: non-binary. It felt like a puzzle piece clicking into place. I didn’t feel at home in the label “woman” but “man” didn’t feel right either. Non-binary gave me the freedom to embrace my identity without being pushed into a box. It gave words to something I’d felt my entire life, but had never been able to name.
That word, that label, helped me personally. But I also know not everyone likes labels. Some people find them limiting, or feel most comfortable without naming anything at all. For me it was a key to self-acceptance, but everyone’s path is their own.
I decided to change my name from Sarajayne to Jayne, a step that felt like coming home to myself. It was a way of letting go of what no longer fit and embracing my authentic self. At first I called myself genderfluid, but over time non-binary started to feel more like home. It was as if I finally dared to say, “This is me.”
I know how intense this journey can be. How confusing it is not to fit the standard picture. I’m lucky to have a queer community that supports me, but I know not everyone has that. That’s why, in my practice, I make space for people who are struggling with their gender identity, who have questions, or who are simply looking for a safe place to explore themselves.
As a queer therapist, I support people in their search for self-acceptance. Whether you’re looking for a label or you don’t want one at all, whether you’re still unsure or already certain, your story deserves to be heard. My own journey has taught me how important it is to be seen and recognised exactly as you are.
Self-acceptance isn’t a destination. It’s a journey. I’m still discovering, growing, and learning about myself and that’s okay. It’s okay to change your mind along the way, to evolve, or to define yourself again and again. What matters is that you do it in your own way.
If you’re looking for a safe place to take your next steps, you’re welcome with me. Together we can explore who you are, what makes you happy, and how you can come closer to yourself. Because in the end, nothing matters more than living as your most authentic self.
Blog: Sexual attraction vs romantic attraction
Sexuality and romantic feelings can be confusing, especially if you’re not sure how to recognise different kinds of attraction. Many people use the terms “sexual attraction” and “romantic attraction” as if they mean the same thing, but they don’t. They describe different experiences. Below is a clear breakdown of what each term means and why the difference matters.
Sexual attraction is the desire to be sexually intimate with another person. It can be driven by physical desire, fantasies, or a specific pull someone feels toward another person’s appearance, energy, or presence. Sexual attraction is often connected to the wish for physical contact, but it isn’t only about “needing sex”; it’s the experience of being drawn to someone in a way that can lead to sexual desire.
Sexual attraction also varies widely from person to person. Some people experience strong sexual attraction, while others experience little or none. As humans, we can be attracted (sexually and/or romantically) to a wide range of genders and bodies; this is commonly described as sexual orientation.
Romantic attraction is the desire to form a romantic relationship with someone. This doesn’t have to involve sex. Romantic attraction can show up as wanting to spend time together, feeling emotionally connected, wanting closeness, affection, commitment, or building a deeper bond.
Romantic attraction can also take many forms. Some people feel romantic attraction regardless of gender, while others experience it only toward certain genders. Romantic orientation can vary just as much as sexual orientation, and it may shift over time for some people.
Sexual and romantic attraction often overlap, but they represent different parts of how people connect. The core differences are:
Sexual attraction is about the desire for sexual intimacy or sexual interaction.
Romantic attraction is about the desire for romantic connection, emotional intimacy, or a relationship; with or without sex.
More specifically:
Sexual attraction can lead to sexual desire or behaviour; romantic attraction centres more on affection, closeness, and love.
Sexual attraction may be absent for some people; for example asexual people may not experience sexual attraction, yet still experience romantic attraction.
Romantic attraction may be absent for some people; for example aromantic people may not experience romantic attraction, yet may still experience sexual attraction.
Understanding the difference can help you make sense of your own feelings and needs, and it can also support clearer communication in relationships.
For example, someone might feel sexual attraction without romantic feelings, or romantic feelings without sexual attraction. Being able to name that difference can help avoid misunderstandings and create more honest conversations about expectations, boundaries, and what each person wants.
Sexual attraction and romantic attraction are both real and meaningful. They can exist together, or separately, and neither is “more correct” than the other. There isn’t one right way to be attracted to people or to fall in love. Everyone experiences attraction in their own way.
Gender identity is an important and deeply personal part of who we are. It shapes how we experience ourselves, how we identify and how we express ourselves to the outside world. While many people naturally identify as a man or a woman, it’s important to understand that gender identity isn’t always that simple. For many people, it can be a process of discovery; figuring out what feels true and how they want to live and express that truth.
Gender identity refers to a person’s inner sense of their gender; whether they feel like a man, a woman, both, neither, or something else entirely. This inner experience may align with the sex someone was assigned at birth, but it doesn’t have to.
Gender is often described as a spectrum rather than a strictly binary concept of man or woman. That means there are many different ways people can experience and express their gender.
Traditionally, many societies treated gender as binary; two options, male or female. Modern understandings of gender recognise that it’s broader than those two categories. Over the past decades, awareness of gender diversity has grown, and there’s more room for people to experience and define their gender in a way that fits them.
Man: Traditionally associated with people assigned male at birth. But masculinity and “being a man” can be lived and expressed in many different ways.
Woman: Traditionally associated with people assigned female at birth. Just like with men, womanhood can be experienced and expressed in many different ways.
Non-binary: Non-binary people don’t identify exclusively as a man or a woman. They may feel somewhere in between, or outside the binary system altogether. Non-binary is often an umbrella term and people may also use words like genderqueer, genderfluid, agender, or bigender, depending on their experience.
Genderfluid: A term used by people whose gender identity can shift over time. Someone might feel more masculine at one point, more feminine at another, or something else entirely across different moments.
Agender: Agender people experience themselves as having no gender, or not identifying with “man” or “woman.”
Bigender: Bigender people identify with two genders, for example both man and woman, or they may move between two genders depending on context.
Two-Spirit: A term used by some Indigenous peoples in North America to describe a person who carries both masculine and feminine spirits or roles. It’s a cultural term that reflects gender diversity within specific Indigenous communities.
Demigender: A term for people who feel partially connected to a certain gender. For example demiman or demiwoman can mean someone feels partly, but not fully, like a man or a woman.
Intergender: A term sometimes used by people who feel between man and woman, but don’t relate to a fully non-binary identity. (Language evolves and people use different terms in different ways.)
And so much more: There are many terms, and new language keeps emerging. You also don’t have to pick a label at all. You are who you are.
Queer: This is my personal preferred word because it can cover a wide spectrum; sexuality, gender, and more. It’s intentionally broad and a bit vague, which for me feels freeing.
Gender identity is about how someone experiences themselves and how they move through the world. It’s connected to self-respect and to having an environment where a person can be themselves.
For many people, being able to understand and express their gender authentically is important for mental wellbeing. When someone doesn’t have the freedom or safety to express their gender, it can contribute to anxiety, depression, and isolation. That’s why supportive spaces matter; places where people can explore their identity without fear of judgement.
Gender isn’t a fixed fact for everyone. It’s a spectrum, with many identities and ways of expressing them. What feels clear to one person may feel uncertain or fluid to another. It’s essential to give people space to explore and live their gender in their own way, and as a society to recognise and respect that diversity.
If you’re questioning your gender identity or unsure how you want to express yourself, it may help to remember: there’s no rush. It’s a process of self-discovery, and you have the right to take it at your own pace.