I thought that after a year and a half of therapy I should be able to handle everything on my own again. Some insights helped, others felt like band-aids on deep wounds. What I realized much later: I had been struggling much longer. Years of fatigue, of not feeling at home anywhere, of sensing something was always missing—without knowing what.
A depression grips you day and night. I didn’t recognize it as such, I thought this was simply my life. The endless fatigue, the fading of joy in the things I once loved. As if life had been turned to black and white.
Someone once told me: “Expectations create disappointments.” I only understood those words when disappointment became constant. When I not only carried the heaviness myself but also lost people around me. The pain of depression lies not only within you, but also in the damage left with those you love most.
And yet, I found something unexpected—not in a therapy room, but in the desert.
The journey inward begins with the journey outward
On the sandy plains around Petra, I felt my breath deepen for the first time in months. No short, tense gasps tied to fear and depression, but a slow breath rising as if from the earth itself.
The desert makes you feel small. It confronts you with insignificance, and that is freeing. At home, our thoughts and problems seem to fill everything. But there, surrounded by rocks older than we can fathom, you suddenly realize: I am just a speck in the cosmos. And that is not a lack—it is a wonder.
The scientific power of silence
What I intuitively experienced is confirmed by research. Studies show that silence stimulates the creation of new brain cells in the hippocampus—a region crucial for learning, memory, and emotion. Italian research showed that two minutes of complete silence had a stronger calming effect than classical music: heart rate, blood pressure, and breathing dropped more quickly.
But the silence of a city is not the silence of the desert. On the Veluwe, I always hear the hum of the highway—a reminder that the bustle never truly stops. In the desert, there is nothing. No cars, no planes, no neighbors. Only the wind whispering over sand waves and sometimes the rhythm of your own heartbeat.
Nature as a mirror for the soul
A walk in nature is proven to be beneficial: it reduces stress and can lower the risk of depression. For me, the desert became more than a walk. It was a reconnection with something fundamental.
The sun rises whether you are happy or not. The moon waxes and wanes regardless of our personal dramas. That eternal cycle showed me that my depression was not my identity but a phase—just as natural as drought or rain.
In therapy I learned to recognize thought patterns and cognitive distortions. Valuable, certainly. But the desert taught me something no book ever could: healing can also lie in daring to be silent. In the courage to simply listen to the earth beneath your feet. In Wadi Rum, I experienced that silence in a way I never had before.
The energy of eternity
Among rocks millions of years old, time feels different. These stones saw dinosaurs disappear, endured ice ages, and will stand long after we are gone.
That perspective puts things in place without belittling. It doesn’t say: your pain doesn’t matter. It says: your pain is part of something much bigger. And that gives strength.
Scientists are now researching silence as a possible complementary treatment for anxiety and depression. For me, it wasn’t a replacement for therapy, but it was the missing key.
Animals as guides
In the desert live animals that perfectly adapt to scarcity. They waste no energy on worry. A lizard seeks shade. A fox hunts when hungry. Simple, instinctive, exactly what is needed.
I watched a desert fox calmly continue its path. No concern for yesterday, no fear for tomorrow. Only this moment. It became my silent teacher, a mirror of what I had forgotten: life can be simple.
The philosophy of acceptance
In therapy I had learned to see myself as broken, failed, not enough. That belief colored my behavior and confirmed my convictions.
But in the desert, surrounded by horizon and silence, something shifted. Maybe I wasn’t broken. Maybe I was simply a human in a difficult season, just as the desert knows times of drought. All part of a greater whole.
Returning to yourself
Silence offers more than peace: it provides refuge for recovery. Studies show that silence enhances concentration, self-reflection, and mental health.
After days in the desert, I noticed my thoughts becoming quieter. Not because my problems had vanished, but because there was space again. I could breathe without my mind strangling me.
The desert showed me that healing does not always mean solving everything. Sometimes it means acknowledging that you are part of something greater, and that your emotions are as natural as rain and storm.
A new conviction
When I returned from the desert, I carried something therapy could never have given me: the conviction that I am not alone. That silence is not empty, but full. That the earth itself can be an ally in healing.
That experience became the first stone under Be Your True Color and Yooova. What I found in the desert, I wanted to bring into the world we all live in: hectic, busy, often without room to breathe. With Yooova and BYTC I want to make exactly that possible—moments of silence, peace, and reconnection, even in daily life.
With thanks to Re-Wild for this beautiful travel experience.
Closing: your moment of silence
I now know: I am someone who goes through valleys, but also knows what it feels like to stand on a mountaintop. Someone who has learned that nature is a therapist—if you are willing to listen.
The desert gave me the insight that in ultimate silence you feel you are never truly alone. You are connected with everything that was, is, and will be. And that is healing in its purest form.
And you? When was the last time you sought real silence? Not the silence of a closed room, but the silence of nature—where your soul can breathe again?