Thanks to Paul’s post, I was inspired to write my first official article on Highlighter. I haven’t written in the last few months, probably because I was too exhausted from the books I’ve published, and my creativity was stuck somewhere. But here we go:

In Riga, surrounded by tranquillity at a charming little tea place, I finally have the time and am ready to share my story. It’s often in our darkest moments, when answers seem out of reach and nothing seems possible, that we awaken.

You wake up and don’t know what’s happening; you simply don’t recognise who you are anymore, what you’re doing, or where you should go. You think you’ve achieved everything and can keep going higher and faster, and then something so bizarre happens that you can’t even describe it.

In my late 20s, as a sales manager at London’s leading estate agency, I believed I had achieved everything I had ever desired. Working myself to the bone—16 hours a day, 6 days a week, with no break—my body was screaming, “STOP!” In a city where envy often masquerades as morality, what happens when the system collapses, the perfect façade breaks down, and someone who seems to have it all together is only shining on the outside?

Without realising it, I found myself facing severe burnout and a profound sense of emptiness. Suddenly, you find yourself alone, unable to understand the world anymore, questioning everything, and feeling like your head is about to explode. You no longer know whom or what to trust and are forced to confront yourself. But where do you begin? How do you do that when everyone thinks you’re the strongest and smartest woman, always with an answer and a solution at hand?

It was the monks in a monastery in Thailand, in the mountains of Chiang Mai, Doi Suthep, who breathed life back into me. I spent five days in a silent retreat, meditating for 12 hours each day. It was the most gruelling yet beautiful experience of my life. In the stillness and silence, I faced my inner demons, stripped of all distractions. The process was painful, confronting my fears and anxieties head-on, but it was also deeply healing. By the end of those five days, I began to see things clearly again, rediscovering a sense of purpose and inner peace.

Returning to Berlin, the world had changed dramatically. The global pandemic had forced the city into lockdown, creating a world that felt both unsettling and strangely familiar, echoing the silence I had experienced in the monastery. Yet, amidst the uncertainty and fear, the lockdown provided me with the time and mental space I desperately needed. The stillness of the city allowed me to reflect deeply and channel the clarity I had gained into my writing.

Over the next months, I poured my heart and soul into the manuscript that would become The Extraordinary. The process was cathartic but also painstaking. Every word felt like a piece of my journey—through addiction, burnout, and the long road to self-acceptance. It wasn’t just about telling a story; it was about making sense of my experiences, finding meaning in the chaos.

But the journey didn’t end there. It took four years of relentless dedication, revisions, and navigating the complexities of publishing before the English version of The Extraordinary was finally brought to life. The experience of writing and publishing this book was as transformative as the journey that inspired it. It stands as a testament to resilience, to the power of pausing, and to the idea that even in our darkest moments, we can find the strength to rise again.