About me

I spent most of my life hiding.

First as a gay kid in a small Swiss village who figured out very early that being yourself was optional (and risky). Then, somehow, as a grown man who’d done the whole coming-out thing and thought I was finally done with the hiding. Spoiler: I wasn’t.

I’d just traded one closet for another. This time, a professional one. Kept the messy parts tucked away. Performed “leader” instead of being one. Showed up as a polished version of myself and wondered why nothing quite landed.

Through deep work incl. somatic trauma healing, men initiation retreats, breathwork, plantbased medicine and so much more I became who I am today. Still the same, yet transformed. Grounded and simply happy with who I am. This is why I coach with all I have, thriving to shorten your cycle of transformation to what truly works so you can show up 100% yourself in this world.

When I joined Philips in Amsterdam, I walked in with the quiet confidence of someone who’d built startups, managed teams, and survived the chaos of early-stage company life. How different could a corporate be?

Very different, as it turns out.

I had to learn how to lead people I didn’t hire, in structures I didn’t build, with authority I had to earn rather than assume. I had to navigate politics I didn’t sign up for. And I had to sit with the quiet horror of realizing that nobody was impressed by my startup war stories except me.

Here’s the biggest lesson: there’s no such thing as leading a team. There’s only leading individuals. One relationship at a time.

The hardest part was letting go. Of control. Of needing to understand every moving piece. Of the belief that doing everything myself was somehow noble, instead of just exhausting.

Once I finally let go, everything changed. I had space for actual leadership. Vision. Strategy. The work that actually moves things forward. And, surprise, my team started performing better without me hovering over them like a worried parent.”

I question everything. This is fantastic for building companies and mildly exhausting for the people who have to live with me (ask my husband…)

My first startup failed. Not in a dramatic, cinematic way. More like a slow deflate into a puddle. The kind of failure where you keep trying to breathe life into it until one day you admit to yourself that it’s over.

I was heartbroken. I tried to process the grief in one afternoon. Name the learnings. Move on. Done.

It doesn’t work like that.

Rebuilding confidence after failure, letting go of the ego. Getting back in the game as your full self. That takes real work. The kind most people (including me, originally) try to skip.

Once I actually had done the work, I built another startup in Amsterdam. Sold that one successfully. Not because I’d found some brilliant new tactic, but because I’d finally stopped standing in my own way.