About Me
I am Marlies
Not just a name, but a story.
A voice. A heart that has learned to beat in silence, in struggle, in faith — and occasionally with a sarcastic undertone, because hey, survival is not a hobby.
My life began with a fracture.
Given up at birth. Bullied at school. Because there must be something wrong with me, because I just come from the Netherlands. Sexually abused in my young years.
Not at home — that's where I felt safe. But the world outside? That was hard. And I hadn't received a manual.
So I withdrew. Didn't dare to make friends.
Existing in a world that doesn't seem to want you is a special skill. Unfortunately without a diploma.
When I looked up my biological mother, I was told that she didn't want to see me.
My adoptive mother was busy surviving her own depression at that moment.
How I missed her. Her cup of tea after school. Her presence. Her warmth. Her structure — and yes, even her "clean your room" look.
I ended up in juvenile care. Ran away. Ended up on the street.
At the age of fourteen I became entangled in prostitution.
At sixteen I became a mother. My son became my salvation.
A little less than 11 months later I had my daughter.
They are my light. My reason to choose life.
And also the reason I know how to change diapers with one hand and half a brain cell.
Despite my religious upbringing, I didn't feel God for a long time.
Until He touched me — not with a dramatic thunderclap, but with sunlight through the clouds on a day when everything was dark.
And I knew: I am not alone. He was there all along.
Probably with a cup of coffee, waiting for me to be ready to see Him.
In 2021 I got cancer. Advanced. Not operable.
Chemo. Radiation. Survive.
I'm still alive. But every day I bear the consequences — including the fatigue, the scars and the new hobby "how many appointments fit in one week?"
And then I thought: enough with silence.
I want to share. I want to help. I want to build.
That's why I started Lived Through It.
A place for those who feel invisible.
For those who live with trauma, loss, depression, PTSD.
For those who are tired of always hearing "you have to give it a place" while that place is already overflowing.
A place without judgment.
A place where stories can exist.
Also the messy, the uncomfortable, the raw ones.
Especially those.
I am not a victim.
I am a survivor.
And I believe that what you have lived through can become a source of strength — for yourself and for others.
Also for healthcare providers who dare to look beyond the file.
Who want to understand what lives behind the silence.
Who understand that "functions properly" does not mean that someone is líving.
Welcome to my world.
Welcome to Lived Through It.
No glitter. No filter. But authenticity.
Love,
Marlies