After Six Years, I Left Bali, Not Because I Changed My Mind, But Because I Outgrew the Chapter
Why growth isn’t about consistency, but about authority and knowing when a season is complete.
After living in Bali for six years, I’m back in the Netherlands.
For someone who has been openly critical about the Netherlands for years, I understand why this raised eyebrows.
And if you’re thinking: finally, she’s settling down now — becoming an ‘adult’ with a husband, kids and a dog in a quiet neighbourhood — you’re mistaken.
There are many nuances to this story.
If you know me well, you know I don’t move just for the sake of it.
Even though the final decision was made within twelve hours, my decision is far from impulsive.
It was the result of years of lived experience, reflection and inner knowing finally converging into one clear moment.
I’m not sharing this to explain myself. I’m sharing it because this story holds important lessons about growth, timing and what it actually means to lead your own life.
How It All Started
I’ve always said that Bali was a phase.
I fell in love with Bali the first time I visited, fifteen years ago, at the end of a long journey through Asia. I felt at home immediately. I returned many times after that — including in 2020.
That trip was meant to last a few months.
Covid turned it into a year, and beyond.
At some point, I realised I felt more at home in Bali than I did in the Netherlands. So I organised the paperwork and stayed.
But even then, one thing was always clear to me:
I never wanted to live there forever.
I knew there would be a moment of departure.
I just didn’t know when.
Being consistent has nothing to do with staying in the same place forever.
It means staying loyal to your inner authority, even when others don’t understand.
The First Signs
In September 2024, I moved into a new house in Bali. Everything was right; the location, the house, the setup. It was exactly what I wanted.
And that was precisely when something shifted.
I had lived everywhere I wanted to live.
Done everything I wanted to do, often more than once.
Visited every Asian country I felt called to explore during earlier world trips.
That may sound privileged — and it is — but it’s also the result of years of deliberate choices, sacrifices and resilience.
In conclusion: Bali and Asia felt complete to me, at this point in life.
I had reached a glass ceiling.
If I wanted to grow further, there were only two options:
Stay exactly where I was
Leave the island entirely.
At the same time, I felt relief in finally reaching calmer waters, a space where I could focus on myself and my business instead of constantly operating in survival mode.
Because despite the idyllic Bali imagery online (which is also true), my reality behind the scenes required a level of resilience most people will never need to develop.
Carrying everything alone, for more than six years, far away from any safety net, does not leave you unchanged.
I’ve been through experiences that compress years of life lessons into a much shorter timeframe. Not all of that belongs in this article. Maybe I will share later what I’ve been trough, or maybe not at all.
What matters here is this: navigating those years demanded leadership. It fundamentally reshapes how you think, decide and carry responsibility.
Instead of moving immediately, I chose to stay for a while. To allow everything I had carried to land.
My Summer in the Netherlands
That peaceful state was interrupted — to my frustration — by a trip to the Netherlands.
For good reasons, yes. But I had finally reached a place of rest, and it felt like it kept slipping away.
I spent seven weeks in the Netherlands, and strangely enough, it felt like hell.
I didn’t want to be there at all, I wanted to go back to Bali.
✅ What I do like about the Netherlands is: the nature, the landscapes, everything the country has to offer.
❌ What I didn’t like about the Netherlands: people.
Or rather, the majority of them. And the general social dynamic of the country.
Why I’ve Always Been Critical of Dutch Culture
Dutch — and sometimes broader European — culture feels toxic to me.
People are extremely judgmental. They constantly compare themselves to others, are jealous, and focused on appearances and status.
All in all, to me, it feels extremely narrow-minded.
That became very clear during my trip to The Netherlands during the summer when I spoke to a family member. She said:
“It must be really hard for you to be back in the Netherlands.”
I replied: “Yes, it is.”
I thought: finally, someone who understands me.
Then she continued:
“Well, of course. Everyone here has moved on, while your life has been standing still for six years.”
I thought she was joking.
She wasn’t.
That sentence symbolised something I’ve observed for years: a worldview that equates growth with linear milestones, routines and social approval.
To me, that moment symbolises how I see a large part of Dutch society: judgmental and narrow-minded.
There are exceptions; people with depth, perspective and lived experience. But the dominant narrative remains narrow.
I was relieved when I returned to Bali in September.
When the Pattern Repeated
In September, I landed back in Bali with relief.
In December, I left.
What happened in between?
I quickly fell back into my familiar Bali rhythm. On one hand, that felt comforting. On the other, it was more of the same.
Again, that glass ceiling.
I started questioning whether staying was still healthy. Whether it still expanded me. Whether it still served the woman and entrepreneur I was becoming.
But what was the alternative?
Going back to the Netherlands, a place I don’t particularly enjoy staying in long-term?
I had already mapped out a strategy for other countries and cities in Europe. But my thought was: I’ll see later in 2026. First, rest.
And then life intervened, again.
When Staying Became the Wrong Choice
Another setback occurred. A heavy one.
It’s a story I’m not ready to fully share (yet). But despite the intensity of the situation, what stood out most was how numb it made me feel.
It was another setback. And instead of stress, there was resignation.
Okay. Here we go again.
That’s when I realised: this isn’t healthy.
Emotional detachment is a signal.
And I’ve learned to listen to signals like that.
When things settled, I packed my bags almost immediately.
I was done.
Apparently, the moment to leave was now.
This Wasn’t Impulse, It Was Inner Knowing
The speed of my decision surprised people.
It surprised me too.
But when I asked myself honestly what was still there for me in Bali, the answer was simple: nothing that matched my next level.
I had outgrown that chapter long before.
This final experience merely removed the last doubt.
Back in the Netherlands
People keep asking: “Wasn’t it hard to adjust to the cold?”
As if the cold is the hardest part 😅
Honestly, I barely think about the cold. Experiencing winter again — including snow— for the first time in over six years actually has something to it.
Besides, I’ve been through far hotter fires recently; the cold fades quickly by comparison.
And yes — to keep the hot/cold metaphors going — the situation hasn’t exactly left me cold either.
What actually required adjustment was identity.
The Bali version of me no longer exists.
The Dutch version has emerged, but she isn’t the person I was before I left.
Who is that version of me in 2026?
It’s like ending a long-term relationship. You need time to rediscover who you are on your own, in this new phase of life.
Reverse Culture Shock (Or the Lack of It)
In the past, after every long trip or temporary visit back to the Netherlands, I would sit in the plane crying upon landing — because I didn’t want to be there.
This time, for the first time in my life, I didn’t experience that at all.
I only started thinking about reverse culture shock because someone asked me about it recently. Otherwise, it wouldn’t even have crossed my mind.
I think part of it is that I’ve become tougher after everything I’ve been through.
Setbacks in the Netherlands like a reverse culture shock simply affect me less, because nine out of ten times they’re nothing compared to what I dealt with in Bali, often completely on my own.
I also think it has to do with clarity. I see through people much faster now.
I’m not afraid to ignore or distance myself from people who don’t add anything positive to my life.
I invest my time and energy only in people I can truly connect with. Interestingly, those are almost always people who have lived abroad or travelled extensively — people who are open-minded and worldly.
The rest, I consciously leave behind.
This is how I move through Dutch society now, on my own terms.
I’ve become harder, yes.
And it works.
The Nuance Most People Miss
So yes, Bali is still the magical island I fell in love with.
That hasn’t changed.
And yes, I hit a glass ceiling there. One that began to limit my growth rather than expand it.
So I left.
And yes, I still don’t resonate with the social dynamics in the Netherlands.
That hasn’t changed either.
What has changed is that I’ve learned how to move within it on my own terms.
I know where to engage, where to disengage, and where not to participate at all.
And it works.
What fascinates me most is how quickly people jump to their own conclusions.
“But you loved Bali so much?”
“But you always said you hated the Netherlands?”
“So why would you leave?”
As if two truths can’t exist at the same time.
As if clarity means picking one extreme and rejecting the other.
When people can’t hold nuance, they turn it into a problem.
They assume inconsistency.
They question your integrity.
They create stories about dishonesty, towards yourself or others.
But if there is one thing I’ve always been, it’s honest with myself.
I’m used to being misunderstood.
I’m used to people projecting their own limited frameworks onto my choices.
I’m used to others filling in gaps with stories that have nothing to do with my reality.
And I don’t correct those stories anymore.
Because leadership isn’t about being understood,
it’s about being rooted.
When you are fully present in your own energy, when your decisions come from alignment rather than approval, you become confronting to people who don’t live that way.
Not because you’re doing something wrong,
but because you’re doing something true.
There are simply layers to this story that only people who have lived life with depth — who have carried responsibility, ambiguity and solitude — will recognise.
Others won’t.
And that’s okay.
This move wasn’t about liking or disliking a country.
This move was about leadership.
About knowing when something has given you everything it could — and having the courage to move on without needing validation.
I didn’t change my values.
I didn’t contradict myself.
I didn’t betray my truth.
I honoured it.
And that’s a level of self-trust I will never apologise for.
What’s Next
Another assumption I’ve noticed is the opposite extreme.
That now that I’m back in the Netherlands, I must be settling here.
As if this is the final stop.
As if I’ll never cross borders again.
That’s not true either.
After six years in Bali, I’ve shared many times how much I missed Europe. That hasn’t changed. I already know where I’m going next.
But after everything I’ve lived through, it would be irresponsible to immediately run to the next country just to keep moving. That wouldn’t be freedom, that would be avoidance.
This phase isn’t about stopping and settling.
It’s about integrating.
Right now, I’m consciously using everything the Netherlands offers me: structure, stability, proximity, focus. Not as an endpoint, but as a foundation.
A place where I can grow — personally and professionally — without the glass ceiling I experienced in Bali.
And from here, the next chapters are already unfolding.
The Shift
What’s interesting is that while all of this was unfolding, I was already building The Shift.
Not as a reaction to this move — but as a direct reflection of the way I live, decide and lead.
For years, I’ve been navigating situations that compress decades of life lessons into a much shorter time frame.
Experiences that require you to stand on your own, make decisions without external validation, and keep moving even when there is no clear roadmap.
That lived experience is the foundation of The Shift.
Over the past six months, I’ve brought everything together into a one-year program for entrepreneurs who feel — and know — that they’re operating at maybe ten percent of their true potential.
Not because they lack ambition, intelligence or discipline, but because they’ve hit an invisible ceiling.
The Shift is designed to help you recognise where your own glass ceiling is, how it subtly keeps you contained, and how to move beyond it — without needing approval, permission or understanding from the outside world.
This isn’t about fixing yourself.
It’s about leading yourself through transformation.
With clarity.
With authority.
And with deep self-trust.
A one-year initiation for entrepreneurs who know they’re meant for more
and are ready to lead from alignment
Final Reflection
For me, what’s next is already a knowing.
For you, it may still be a question.
For now, I’m doing exactly what alignment asks of me:
landing, integrating, and creating from stability.
Later this year, I’ll explore Europe again.
There is so much here that I want to rediscover.
Asia?
That chapter is closed, at least for now.
Changing direction isn’t weakness.
Staying misaligned is.
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One last thing
If you found this article valuable, you’d really help me by liking it here ❤️
And I’m curious: do you live abroad, or have you lived abroad before?
How did that experience shape you?
Share your story in the comments. I’d love to read it!