Finding myself again—In a language I didn’t expect
There was a time I didn’t recognize myself anymore.
And I was ashamed to admit it.
Each day, my body felt unfamiliar. The symptoms of Long Covid weren’t just physical—they altered my mind, my voice, and how I related to the world. I struggled to remember what I’d just read. Filling in a simple form felt like a puzzle I couldn’t solve. Conversations blurred as I lost words and forgot what people had said before I could respond.
So I did something unexpected: I turned to English—my second language.
It became a creative workaround for my word-finding issues in Dutch. At first, it was just practical. But then something surprising happened… it helped.
And later, when the same word-loss crept into English, instead of frustration, I felt gratitude: my brain was still learning. Still growing. Still trying.
I leaned into this growth. Slowly, I began stimulating my brain in new ways—through language, journaling, and learning. I began rewiring myself, one page, one breath, one word at a time.
And with that shift, I entered a deeper place—one where I could no longer ignore the grief of losing the person I used to be.
But also… one where I began meeting someone new.
From that loneliness, something sacred emerged.
I learned to embrace solitude. I learned to listen in the quiet.
And I learned that I didn’t need the system to save me—I could start saving myself.
I made meaningful connections online—people from all over the world who saw me, even in the fog. Some became friends. Some became mirrors. Each reminded me that belonging could exist beyond geography, even beyond health.
That’s when I created my alter ego: Daphne in Stockings.
She wasn’t perfect. She was tired, traumatized, and tenacious.
She wrote. She cried. She created. She tried to make sense of a life that had cracked wide open.
I had gone through so much—torn ankles, a third leg thrombosis, PTSD, two Covid infections, a troubled relationship, a labor dispute, and medical gaslighting. The weight was unbearable. So I gave it a name. I gave it a voice. And slowly, I gave it peace.
I learned that hiding doesn’t always look like disappearing. Sometimes, it’s showing up with a smile while quietly breaking inside.
But I also learned that healing starts when we stop hiding from ourselves.
Some days, I still crash. My nervous system misfires. My words slip.
But now, I’ve learned to let go. I pause. I rest. I try again on a better day.
✨ The biggest shift? I began putting myself first.
Inspired by a workshop with Jay Shetty, I realized something that changed me:
“You can’t give to others what you don’t give to yourself first.”
So I stopped trying to pour from an empty cup.
Now, even on my “body in bed” or “butt in the chair” days—I still create.
I still write. I still breathe into what’s true.
And from that truth, I rise again.
