It's a challenging time here at home. My husband is really playing a tough game when it comes to survival. Seven years he has been doing this. Living with cancer comes with ups and downs and to varying degrees. A mental and physical powerhouse it is. My Viking.

And now the time has come when there are no more treatments from the hospital that can help him. In fact, these treatments only take him further away from health. Something that can bring a feeling of helplessness when you give in to it. In this whole match process, I have always been that caretaker along the line. The supporter of the club who stands by the whole team mentally and physically when they are through. Running onto the pitch with a water sack when a player has gone down. I always see those people as wandering hearts. Those figures who with their warmth, decisiveness and speed can get such a player back on his feet in no time like some kind of magic miracle. And in those seven years, I never really had to go on the field. I have seen that it was a tough match but the vitality of the player who is my true love was always optimal so I only had to be there on the sidelines 'just in case'.

But now things are different. My vital striker has gone down and not a slight bit. That is the moment when the nursing bag is grabbed in hand, the sprint is drawn and the magic of care-giving comes into view. The heart can run and mean something. Because that's what I feel. Caring for someone struggling in their disease process is the most valuable and loving activity one can have. Giving a heart is something that comes naturally in my case. I am here to be good to my family, provide them with food, drink and most of all lots of love. As long as I can also take a moment for myself once in a while, where I can let everything pass through me and flow from me. I find this in writing but also in working in my own business.

I feel the appreciation every day. My husband also actually thanks me for everything. My conditioning then says, "Honey, you don't have to thank me, I'm happy to do that for you and it is taken for granted". But my whole body lights up when he thanks me and so I can actually feel that appreciation.

Emotion is a very crazy thing. You can do all sorts of things for a long time without shedding a tear and have energy for ten. And yet there are the moments when it's really sad for a while and I have to cry really hard too. I don't put it away, I want to let it in but I can't do it on command.

For me, music is a trigger on my emotions. I then have everything completely balanced and suddenly a song or music comes along that makes me emotional and then the tears come. A flood of water falling down my cheeks onto the ground. Thick big drops that lower the pressure there is in my body. What a gift it is to be emotional and to know in it that this suits you and belongs to you. Water is supposed to flow. Being carried along on the movement of sound. I am very happy that I can cry. And that I can let my emotions run free. Even when it's totally over the top. I am emotional and I go in ups and downs, in highs and lows, but they are my emotions. Without reason, without judgement. They are mine.

My design has taught me so much about who I am and how to live my life in it with as little resistance as possible. If you can learn to see that, then you start to appreciate life as yourself so incredibly. Then everything that comes your way is doable. Even if those things are unimaginably heavy at times. You get as much as you can bear. And you actually do.