NYC 2026 - Week 12

A view I’ll never get tired of seeing

LE FIN

Uhm, hello? What? Yes, it’s true. I’ve reached the end of my stay here. But am I ready to go? No. But, as Arnold would say: “I’ll be back!”

This week, I decided to enjoy the final days of my stay like a holiday, while also preparing the practicalities before departure. A part of me felt guilty for not planning my days so full of all the novelty this city has to offer. But one of the things I learned about myself during this trip is that I’m a people person. What good is life if you can’t spend it with the ones you love? I feel a deep affection for all the people I’ve met during both of my stays here, so connecting with everyone one more time was my top priority this week. So, I did, and my heart is fueled by all the love I received in return from my NY friends. Ready to tackle the next obstacles in life. Ready to take the next step toward the life of my dreams.

I’m not gonna lie, I’ve cried a fair amount of tears this week. Realizing ‘the end’ is near ripped me right open. Still being influenced by events that happened in my past, emotions ran wild throughout my entire body, leaving me trembling and shaking on the inside. In the past, though, I didn’t have the chance to do anything about the hurt that was inflicted upon me. But now, as an adult, an inner strength arose this week, reassuring me that we (me, myself, and I) have the power to not let ourselves go entirely.

For those who don’t know what happened in my past: when I was 12, I lost my dad in an accident. From one day to the next, he wasn’t there anymore. My whole world was shattered. I was young, but I realized that what had happened meant he was never coming back. My dad was the greatest dad I could ever have wished for. He was my mentor and my best friend. It was us against the world. He prepared me for life as much as he could, while teasing me and making fun of me until I was sick of it. But I loved it, and I couldn’t get enough of it.

I feel a bit vulnerable telling you about this. I’m afraid this will make you feel uncomfortable. It’s a harsh fact, but I can assure you—I can carry it. I have been carrying it for 23 years. I’m also worried that you’ll think I’m using it as a tool to get your sympathy, but it’s simply my intention to help you understand what this can do to someone going through this inevitable part of life.

Grief as a consequence of death, the way I experience it, is a separation between you and your environment and, by extension, the rest of society. From one moment to the next, your world gets turned upside down. The setback is huge, but everyone else just seems to carry on exactly as before. It makes you feel lonely, because only you can feel how painful it is. Only you had that specific connection to the one you lost, just like everyone else has their own experience. Grief is something we often need to carry by ourselves, because people who don’t understand this or haven’t gone through it can feel scared, intimidated, or powerless around you. It’s as if they fear sadness might be 'contagious'; it touches such deep emotions, and not many have the space to hold them.

Grief also showed me, later in life, that it’s the greatest sign of love. We can only grieve the ones we truly loved, and the feeling of grief is equal to the amount of love we felt for them. In my case, being only 12 years old, I did not have the tools or practices to fill the emptiness I was left with. I sought professional help from a very young age and only ‘graduated’ myself from therapy two years ago. I’ve done so many things to help me heal: cognitive therapy, group therapy, meditation, yoga, ayahuasca, mushrooms, women’s circles… I’ve taken regular medication and herbal treatments. I did family constellations and visited a shaman for a while. All of this so that I could give my 12-year-old self the capacity to find a place for all these emotions. To give everything else that happened after losing my dad an explanation I could live with.

For a long time, I believed I wasn’t worthy of love. I felt like I was being punished. Why would anyone do such a horrible thing? To take away my support and my guide in this world that already felt so cruel? But during this week, a new thought arose. A belief, a feeling, or maybe something else that I can’t quite put my finger on. Something that I haven’t consciously been feeding, but that just showed up for me: everything in my life happened exactly so that I could become the person that I am today. Would I ever have had the real chance to get to know my own power if I had just lived the life my dad already had planned out for me? Would I have had the chance to feel all this love and share it with my family, my friends, or even with strangers if this hadn’t happened? I would’ve entered the matrix and just been feeding the system as the puppet the machine wants us to be.

I tried, for so many years, to live ‘a normal life’. Seriously, I tried! But it made me sick. A trauma like the one I experienced at the age of 12 does something to your biology, to your nervous system, even to your brain. I never saw life the way most people do. I despised it for a long time. I even wished it would end a few times. But it also gives me a deep sense of gratitude and love for everything this life throws at us. And I’m happy to play this game now. I’m not powerless. I’m not a victim. I learned how to take the punches, recalibrate, pivot, and take different roads—ones that have never been walked before.

This week, I realized that the lineage of women I come from hasn’t had the kind of life that I’ve lived so far. They’ve also had their fair share of pain, loss, and trauma. But they were all wives or mothers long before they could explore who they were and the power they truly possess—long before they could truly actualize themselves into the powerhouse I believe every woman can be.

When you’re 12, you are just starting puberty, like a young tree that has just begun to grow its roots. Only mine were cut off. I hung by a really thin thread and had to search hard for an environment that could nourish me. Losing a parent as a kid leaves you guessing about your identity. Who am I? I’ve asked this question for so long! I know I am the spitting image of my mom, and yes, we do have some things in common, but what about the other half?

I’m happy to tell you that I’ve found mirrors here, during this trip. Pieces of myself that I’ve missed, that I thought I had lost. People who opened up some doors that, for safety reasons, I had closed off and hidden behind a big bush. But I’m so happy the bush got trimmed and I found the key again.

I carried a picture of my dad with me during this trip. I took him with me when I was out to have fun, out to explore, to dance, and to watch live music. I know he would’ve loved that too. I know that he still has my back. That he’s still looking out for me. Because I see glimpses of him from time to time. And you might think I’m crazy, that it doesn’t exist, that it’s all in my head. Well, fuck off. And I’m also sorry if you haven’t experienced any magic in your life so far. Because it is—life is magical.

My dad, Erik

This trip might not have given me exactly what I was hoping for. And yes, this sounds so freaking cliché, but it gave me everything I needed. I’m surprised and humbled by the people who showed up for me over the last few days here. New York can be quite a flaky place. People are nice, but more often than not, they don’t come through. But these people showed up, even some I had met only once. And the small group of people I managed to bring together all got along, already planning their next hangouts and conspiring on how to get me back as soon as possible. And then I cried again. But not sad tears. They were tears of love, of appreciation, of gratitude. Isn’t life amazing?

If you managed to read this entire blog, I thank you. Moving forward from this experience, I will try to use my voice more to open up about the hardships life can bring. I know now that I can hold myself fully, and I would be happy to hold space for others too. I wish to build a bigger community, to be of service. There is still so much to learn about the human experience, and how to find a life that suits us and to build a system that allows us to experience the entirety of it. We don’t have to carry the burdens all alone, and we can even have a laugh to let a bit of the heaviness go. So, who’s with me? Let’s fucking go!

With love,

Naomi