One of the questions I hear most often is:
“Am I on my path, or have I strayed from it?”
As if life were a navigation system. Turn left and you’re right. Turn right and you’re wrong. And the moment you leave the route, your only job is to find your way back.
The older I get, the less interesting that question becomes.
Not because you can’t lose your way. You absolutely can. I’ve experienced it myself.
But because there is a deeper question underneath it:
Who are you, regardless of whether you’re on your path or off it?
Because if you don’t ask that question, life can easily become an endless search for the right direction while gradually losing touch with the one who’s actually walking the road.
When I started losing myself
At the end of 2009, I was made redundant from a leadership position at the bank where I worked.
On the surface, I handled it well. I stayed professional, remained optimistic, and focused on the future.
But beneath the surface, something else was happening.
Old insecurities were being triggered. Old patterns resurfaced.
I was offered a career coaching program and genuinely believed I was searching for work that suited me better.
At least that’s what I thought.
Looking back now, I see something different.
My mind was still in charge.
And my mind was steering toward safety.
The outcome of the entire process was predictable: I concluded that the same role I had just lost was still the best fit for me—just at another company.
I applied for many positions.
Writing applications was easy.
Interviews came naturally.
Yet rejection followed rejection.
My mind couldn’t understand it.
“I’m saying all the right things. Why isn’t this working?”
Years later, I finally understood.
I wasn’t showing up as Sander.
I was showing up as a role.
I was very good at selling myself.
The problem was that I wasn’t selling myself.
The cost of living against your truth
Meanwhile, I continued working at the bank in a different position. At the recommendation of my employer, I also started a bachelor’s degree.
From day one, something inside me knew:
This is not my path.
But I kept going.
A family. A mortgage. Responsibilities.
So I pushed through.
Working during the day. Studying at night. Group projects. Exams.
Years of it.
Until my system finally said no.
In 2014, during a resit exam, everything went black.
A complete shutdown.
And at the same time, the wake-up call I desperately needed.
In that moment, I learned something I have never forgotten.
You can live against your own truth for far longer than you think.
The body is patient.
It adapts. It compensates. It keeps running even when the tank is already empty.
But sooner or later, the bill arrives.
Sooner or later, your system says:
“Enough.”
Finding my way back to myself
After my burnout, a different journey began.
Not because I wanted to become spiritual.
Not because I was looking for a new identity.
But because I wanted to understand who I really was.
I immersed myself in inner work.
Self-awareness. Healing. Consciousness.
I wanted to discover where I had lost myself along the way.
And perhaps more importantly:
How to find myself again.
Within two years, I started my first coaching business.
Looking back, it almost sounds like a fairy tale.
As if everything magically fell into place.
But that’s not the truth.
Even being on your path requires courage
Many people romanticize entrepreneurship.
Freedom. Being your own boss. Following your passion.
What they often forget is the responsibility.
Taking risks. Being visible. Handling criticism. Navigating uncertainty. Making decisions without guarantees. Facing financial pressure.
And continuously asking yourself:
Does this still align with who I am?
Or am I doing it because it feels safe?
Because everyone else is doing it?
Because a strategy says I should?
Because someone else succeeded with it?
The challenges don’t disappear when you’re on your path.
The nature of the challenge changes.
You are no longer exhausted because you’re fighting yourself.
You are stretched because you’re growing.
That is a very different experience.
Today, more than ten years later, there are still highs and lows.
Especially when you’re trying to create something that doesn’t already exist.
When there is no blueprint.
No proven formula.
Of course, you can learn from others.
Study strategies.
Seek inspiration.
But eventually, you have to come back to yourself.
Does this feel true for me? Does this fit who I am? Does this belong to the life I’m trying to create?
The misunderstanding of authenticity
One of the biggest misconceptions I see today is the belief that authenticity means doing everything alone.
As if asking for help automatically takes you away from your path.
As if coaching, mentorship, strategies, books, or guidance somehow make you less authentic.
That isn’t what I’ve learned.
In fact, when I look back over the past decade, I see countless people who have contributed to my growth.
Coaches. Mentors. Friends. Entrepreneurs. Teachers. Books. Trainings.
People who held up a mirror when I couldn’t see myself clearly.
People who asked questions I wasn’t asking.
People who saw something in me before I could see it myself.
The question is not whether you use what the world has to offer.
The real question is:
Do you remain in the driver’s seat?
Because you can become just as dependent on a coach as you can on your own mind.
You can lose yourself in a method.
- A philosophy
- A strategy
- A religion
- A spiritual experience
- A business model
- A belief system
The object changes.
The mechanism stays the same.
You hand over your authority.
Never fully lost
There is a Dutch expression that roughly translates to “being separated from God.”
These days, I see that differently.
The further you move away from yourself, the further you move away from that quiet inner knowing.
From presence. From awareness. From your essence.
But even during the darkest years of my life, that essence never disappeared.
And that may be one of the most important things I’ve learned.
Your essence doesn’t leave. You simply lose sight of it.
Your survival mechanisms become louder.
Your conditioning becomes stronger.
Your autopilot takes over for a while.
But somewhere beneath it all, the connection remains.
A small light.
A quiet reminder of who you truly are.
Even during my burnout, I wasn’t gone.
Perhaps I was further away from myself.
Perhaps survival was running the show.
But something inside me still knew.
And eventually, that part found its way back.
So… are you on your path?
Maybe that isn’t the most important question after all.
Maybe the real question is:
Who is holding the steering wheel right now?
- You? Or your fear?
- You? Or your conditioning?
- You? Or the expectations of others?
- You? Or the strategy you’re blindly following?
Because being on your path doesn’t mean doing everything by yourself.
And being off your path doesn’t mean you’ve completely lost yourself.
The real art is learning to receive support without surrendering your authority.
To learn from others without becoming a copy of them.
To walk alongside people without handing them the map of your life.
Because ultimately, you are the one who has to live your story.
Nobody can do that for you.
And perhaps that’s the most beautiful paradox of all:
Your path doesn’t become stronger because you walk it alone. It becomes stronger because you remain present while walking it.
“Experience life the fullest. Let’s walk each other home.”
