Recipes4Change, Oostduinlaan 22, The Hague (2026)

07/08/2026

This summer, I injured my back during a personal training session. I have never experienced so much pain, and in the early weeks I could hardly walk. That period reinforced something I have always believed: our health is our greatest wealth.

It wasn't only my back that was broken this summer, but also my heart. A relationship that I had invested in did not live up to its promise and ultimately threatened my connection to myself. It took every ounce of strength to walk away so that I could remain connected to myself.

As a coach and counsellor, these experiences have reminded me of something I often share with others: before we are professionals, we are human. We do not stand outside the human experience simply because we support others through theirs. We, too, experience pain, loss, disappointment, and heartbreak. We, too, have work to do on ourselves.

I am deeply grateful to have people in my life with whom I share genuine, loving connections: my daughters, my grandchildren, my family, and my friends. I also have my supervisor and my therapist, who help me process life's setbacks in a healthy way so that I can continue to work ethically, compassionately, and with integrity. This is my village—my supportive community. Everyone deserves to have a village like this.

My back injury meant I had to walk a great deal. Thankfully, walking is something I have always loved, whether alone or with friends. Those walks have become a place of reflection, healing, and quiet growth. They have reminded me that resilience is not something we simply have—it is something we build, one step at a time.

Doing our own inner work is not a sign of weakness; it is part of what allows us to sit with others in their pain with greater understanding, empathy, and humility. It softens judgment, deepens compassion, and continually reminds us that healing and growth are always possible. We cannot authentically invite others to journey where we are unwilling to go ourselves.

My back is gradually improving, and I trust that my heart will heal too. If I am a little quieter than usual on this platform, you'll know why. I am taking some time to gather the pieces of myself, restore my energy, and continue my own journey of healing.

And, in the famous words of Arnold Schwarzenegger: "𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬." 😊

I hope you are all having a wonderful summer. Be kind to yourselves, and to one another.

27/07/2026

Friendships often begin when you least expect them.

They can grow between the most unlikely people, across differences in age, culture, religion, political views and even language. They remind us that genuine human connection is built not necessarily on sameness, but on curiosity, kindness and openness.
The best friendships also withstand time and distance.

That's how my friendship with Olivia began. Quite unexpectedly, she sent me an email asking whether, as someone working in the same profession, I would be willing to meet for a coffee with someone who was just starting out.

I have always loved connecting with people, so I said yes.

From that first coffee, a beautiful friendship blossomed. I'm in my sixties and Olivia is in her twenties. We come from different generations and have lived very different lives, yet we've discovered that we share many of the same values, laugh at the same things and genuinely enjoy each other's company.

I'd promised to teach her how to make pavlova and, after far too long, we finally made it happen.

As you can see from the photo, we had a wonderful afternoon together, and the pavlova was delicious.

As coaches and counsellors, we spend so much of our time holding space for others, listening deeply, supporting people through change, and helping them navigate life's challenges. It is deeply meaningful work, but it also asks a great deal of us emotionally.

That is why friendships, laughter, creativity and simple moments of joy matter so much. Time spent away from our professional roles is an essential part of sustaining ourselves. Sharing coffee, baking a pavlova, talking about life, or simply enjoying each other's company replenishes something that cannot be restored by work alone.

It's often in these ordinary moments that we remember we are people first and professionals second.

Sometimes the richest connections begin with the simplest invitation. One email. One coffee. One conversation. And if we're open to them, they can become some of life's greatest gifts.

16/07/2026

Last Monday evening, I received a message from a Dutch friend:

"𝘖𝘱 𝘕𝘗𝘖 2 𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘫𝘬𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘬 𝘻𝘪𝘦 𝘓𝘢𝘺𝘢𝘭𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘦𝘬 𝘥𝘢𝘢𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘯, 𝘭𝘦𝘶𝘬 𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘵!"

She was watching a programme about racism and discrimination in healthcare and had spotted my daughter Layal's book displayed on set.

I immediately switched over to watch it, and sure enough, there was her book. Such a proud moment.

I was delighted not only to see her work recognised in this way, but also to see that these important conversations are continuing to happen in the Netherlands.

Raising awareness is the first step towards meaningful change.
Seeing her book there took me back to the time she was writing it and conducting research interviews with experts and with people who had experienced racism and discrimination first-hand. One of those interviews was with me, during the chapter in which she explored colourism.

I vividly remember answering her questions about my own experiences growing up in Lebanon. I became especially emotional when I told her how deeply moving it was to see my own daughters proudly wearing their Afro hair. Growing up, I had been made to feel ashamed of mine and spent years using chemical treatments to try to tame it.

We had to stop the interview, hug each other, and have a good cry.

That conversation has stayed with me, not only as a mother but also in my work as a coach and counsellor. Often, I have the privilege of supporting people from different cultures and backgrounds. Alongside the challenges that come with living internationally, many share painful experiences of being judged or excluded because of the colour of their skin, nationality, religion, sexual orientation, or simply because they are perceived as "different."

These stories remind me that discrimination can shape how people see themselves, how safe they feel, and whether they believe they truly belong. It also reminds me how powerful it can be when people are given a space where they feel heard, seen, and accepted without judgment.

Perhaps that's why seeing my daughter’s book on television meant so much to me. It was more than a proud mother moment, it was a reminder that every conversation that raises awareness has the potential to create greater understanding, compassion, and ultimately, change.

As a mother, I couldn't be prouder. As a coach and counsellor, it gives me hope that the stories I witness regularly are increasingly finding their way into the public conversation. That's how change begins.

If this topic interests you, I highly recommend 𝙎𝙮𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙢𝙞𝙘. It has now been published in four countries and translated into both Dutch and German.

14/07/2026

Not everything that needs to be expressed can be put into words.

In my work as a coach and counsellor, I often use objects, pictures, photographs, and tools borrowed from other therapeutic disciplines. I use them because, intuitively, they often seem to offer exactly what a client needs in that moment, and they often can help clients access something that conversation alone sometimes cannot.

This is especially true for clients who struggle to find the words to describe what is happening inside them. Sometimes what cannot yet be spoken can be seen, felt, or represented in another way.

One of my favourite approaches is using family constellation figures to help clients model the family they were born into. It seems like such a simple exercise, yet it often leads to unexpected and profound insights.

In one case, it unlocked a deep grief that the client hadn't realised they had been carrying since childhood. In another, the client forgot to choose a figure to represent themselves. They were completely absent from their own family constellation.

When I asked them to point to the figure that represented them, they exclaimed in surprise:

"Oh, I totally forgot about myself!"

Moments like these are powerful. They gently bring unconscious patterns into conscious awareness. Once we can see what has been hidden, we can begin to understand it. And from understanding comes the possibility of healing, growth, and lasting change.

These methods not only offer valuable insights for my clients, they also help guide me in understanding what may be happening beneath the surface, allowing us to work together in a way that words alone don't always make possible.

Have you ever experienced a moment when seeing something differently changed the way you understood yourself?

As therapists and coaches, what approaches have you found most helpful when words alone aren't enough?

06/07/2026

On my journeys back and forth to visit my grandsons, I often take taxi rides to and from the local airport. Almost without fail, I end up in conversation with the driver, even when we don't share a common language. I am always curious about their story. Are they local? If not, where did they come from? What brought them to that country? How long have they been there? Do they feel settled, or do they still carry a longing for home?

More often than not, their stories are about migration and displacement, adaptation and hope, challenge and resilience.
Each journey reminds me that every person carries an unseen history, and that a simple question asked with genuine curiosity can open the door to remarkable conversations.

Some drivers speak of leaving family behind, of rebuilding careers, of learning a new language and finding their place in an unfamiliar culture. Others share dreams for their children or the quiet ache of loss and missing home. By the end of a 30- or 40-minute journey, we have often formed a genuine connection through the simple act of sharing parts of our lives. On a few occasions, we have even parted with a hug.

These conversations are, in many ways, an extension of my work as a coach and counsellor. I have the privilege of working with internationals whose lives have also been shaped by migration, relocation and displacement. Whether they have moved by choice or necessity, they are often navigating questions of identity, belonging, loss and purpose alongside the practical realities of building a life in a new country.

I have come to realise that, beneath every migration story, there is a deeply human story. We all long to be seen, heard and understood. When people are offered a safe space to tell their story without judgement, something shifts. They begin to reconnect with their own resilience, make sense of what they have lost, and discover new possibilities for who they are becoming.

Perhaps that is why I treasure these chance encounters. They remind me that meaningful connection does not depend on how long we have known someone or whether we will ever meet again. Sometimes all that is needed is a willingness to be fully present with another human being. For a brief moment, we meet not as strangers, but as fellow travellers, and that is enough.

29/06/2026

A week before my TEDx Salon talk, I developed a sore throat and a persistent cough.

The cause turned out to be an allergic reaction to airborne toxic hairs from caterpillars infesting many trees during my stay in Berlin with my grandsons. At least I knew the cause. The question was whether I'd recover in time.

Back in the Netherlands, my doctor confirmed there was no infection. My throat was inflamed from constant coughing. She prescribed a cough suppressant.

There was one problem: it made me drowsy.

Canceling my talk felt like a last resort. I'd been looking forward to it for weeks, and opportunities like this don't always come twice. My choice was simple: be drowsy or risk coughing through my talk.

I chose the cough.

I relied on every soothing remedy I could think of. At the venue, I sipped warm lemon, ginger and honey water, hoping for the best.

When it was my turn to speak, I did something that would once have been unthinkable.

I was transparent.

Drawing on what I learned through therapy years ago, I brought the unconscious into the conscious. I told the audience I had a sore throat and a persistent cough, reassured them I wasn't infectious, and joked that if I started coughing halfway through, they shouldn't run away.

The audience laughed. The tension dissolved.

Then I delivered my 10-minute talk on the meaning of life.

Twenty years ago, I would never have admitted I was struggling. I would have kept everything to myself and carried on. That is one of the legacies of childhood trauma. It teaches you to stay alert, self-reliant and guarded—to hide your fears and vulnerabilities behind a calm, capable exterior.

For years, I suffered in silence rather than asking for support.

Learning to be open about what is happening inside me has been one of the most liberating changes in my life.

I see this same pattern in many of my international clients. They often make assumptions instead of having honest conversations because transparency requires vulnerability.

My advice is always the same:

Talk.

Speak openly, honestly and transparently. Bring the unconscious into the conscious, where it can be understood, clarified and managed with maturity, compassion and love.

My voice remained hoarse throughout the talk, but thankfully the cough stayed away. I left feeling grateful, not only because I had delivered my talk, but because I had shown up as my authentic self.

As Carl Jung wrote:
"𝘜𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴, 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘦."

23/06/2026

Last Saturday, I had the privilege of being one of two guest speakers at a TEDx Salon event. The theme was: 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦?

I vividly remember asking my mother that very question when I was 14 years old. By then, I had already experienced several adverse childhood events, including living through a civil war.

My mother simply shrugged her shoulders and shared some African wisdom:

"𝘙𝘢𝘸𝘪𝘢, 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵."

It took me another three decades to fully appreciate what she meant and to find meaning in my own life.

One of the most rewarding aspects of sharing our stories is when they resonate with others and inspire them to share their own. There is so much wisdom, support, and connection to be found in community. Experiences like these remind me that, no matter where we come from, we are often far more alike than we are different.

A particular highlight for me was listening to and engaging with my fellow guest speaker, Florent Coudyser, who shared his experience of receiving an ALS diagnosis, an experience that inspired the title of his book, 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘛𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘏𝘰𝘱𝘦.

Florent shared many profound insights, but two decisions he made following his diagnosis have stayed with me:

💫He chose to ask for help, recognising that he would need all the support he could get.�💫He decided that he would find a way forward.

These are two incredibly brave decisions.

I know personally how long it took me to ask for help when I was struggling, and I see the same hesitation in many of the internationals I work with who are seeking meaningful change as they relocate around the world.

Thank you, Florent, for sharing your story and the wisdom that emerged from your experience. I am grateful to have had the opportunity to meet you.

And thank you to TEDxTheHague
for continuing to create spaces where rich conversations, meaningful connections, and shared humanity can flourish.

01/06/2026

Resilience is often described as the ability to “bounce back” after adversity.

That description has never fully resonated with me. Having experienced and overcome a number of adversities in my own lifetime, I wouldn’t describe resilience as bouncing back. The reason is simple: after recovery, we are not the same people we were before. We are changed by our experiences. Yes, we may stand back on our own two feet again, but often we do so stronger, wiser, and more self-aware than before.

Resilience was the subject of discussion and reflection at last Thursday’s WBII network event, where Marjolein van der Kruk shared that she prefers to think of resilience as a “bounce forward.” She went on to share insights from her own personal and professional experiences on how we can overcome adversity in our lives and, indeed, move forward with greater depth and understanding of ourselves.

Her words resonated deeply with me, not only personally, but also professionally through my coaching and counselling work with internationals and globally mobile individuals.

So many of the people I work with have shown incredible resilience as they relocate around the world — often multiple times — leaving behind home, family, friendships, familiar systems, careers, and identities to adapt to entirely new cultures and ways of living.

Alongside the challenges of relocation itself, many are also navigating major life experiences such as divorce, grief, career transitions, loneliness, or watching their children leave home, all while trying to build a sense of belonging in a new community.

It is impossible to hold space for these stories without recognising the emotional weight that resilience carries. Conversations around resilience can feel deeply personal and, at times, emotionally charged or even triggering.

What makes gatherings like these so valuable is the sense of safety, connection, and understanding they create. They remind us that we do not have to navigate adversity alone and that healing and growth often happen in the presence of supportive community.

Thank you, Marjolein, for sharing your story and insights with such heart and wisdom. And thank you to Women's Business Initiative International (WBII) for continuing to create these inspiring and empowering gatherings for the international community.

28/05/2026

“Lasting love: myth or practice?”

That was the topic of discussion at TEDx Salon The Hague last Saturday afternoon.

It was such a thought-provoking theme that many of us chose it over a sunny afternoon at the beach.

My colleagues and friends, Cammi Manchur and Becky Makous, shared insights from the Gottman Therapy Method. Cammi spoke about the four behaviours that can damage relationships: criticism, contempt, defensiveness, and stonewalling. Becky explored what research says helps create meaningful and fulfilling intimate sexual relationships — which definitely sparked curiosity and lively conversation in the room.

We then broke into small groups to discuss the role culture plays in how we relate to one another.

That part especially resonated with me.

Through my work as a coach and counsellor, I support internationals who come from one culture, marry into another, and try to navigate relationships, work, parenting, identity, and everyday life in a new country.

I often see how cultural differences can enrich relationships, but also create misunderstanding, loneliness, unmet expectations, and emotional tension when they remain unexplored.

Both through my own lived experience and the stories I hear in my work, I’ve come to believe that the most important relationship is the one we have with ourselves.

The deeper we understand our emotions, patterns, triggers, values, and boundaries, the better equipped we are to build healthier relationships with partners, children, family, friends, and colleagues.

This kind of inner work helps us navigate cultural differences, in-between spaces, and the complexity of building a life between worlds with greater awareness and compassion.

In multicultural relationships especially, love is not only about connection. It is also about translation: translating values, communication styles, family expectations, different ways of expressing emotions, addressing conflict, and defining belonging.

So, from your own lived experience, what do you think?

Is lasting love a myth — or a practice?

26/05/2026

Last Friday evening, I attended the launch of 𝘌𝘹𝘱𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘎𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘙𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘊𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘳 by Ana Denis — a book that resonated deeply with both my personal experiences and my work as a coach and counsellor supporting internationals.

Ana interviewed 100 women who relocated to the Netherlands and shared the stories of twenty of them in the book. What made the evening even more meaningful for me was that I personally know a few of the women whose stories are featured.

Listening to the conversations during the event, I was reminded how relocation is rarely “just” a move from one country to another.
Relocation changes far more than an address.
It can shift identity, relationships, confidence, career direction, belonging, and one’s sense of self.

This is something I witness often in my work with internationals navigating life between cultures — whether they relocated for work, love, family, or opportunity. Many find themselves in an in-between space: leaving behind familiar roles and support systems while trying to build a new sense of home, purpose, and professional identity.

That transition can feel disorienting and emotionally demanding. Yet it can also become a powerful period of growth, reinvention, and self-discovery.

What stood out to me most during the evening was how much people wanted to talk. The Q&A became the heart of the event because these experiences are so often lived quietly and invisibly.

Books like this matter because they give voice to stories many people carry internally.

The stories in the book are moving, inspiring, empowering, and deeply human. They reminded me of this quote:

“𝘓𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘴.”

So often, meaning is found not only in the destinations we aim for, but in the unexpected detours that reshape us along the way.

I’m curious — for those of you who have lived internationally or navigated major life transitions, how has reinvention shaped your sense of identity and purpose?

Recipes4Change

07/08/2026

27/07/2026

16/07/2026

14/07/2026

06/07/2026

29/06/2026

23/06/2026

01/06/2026

28/05/2026

26/05/2026

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