How calligraphy helped me recover from burnout

I'm often asked how I ever got into calligraphy. And honestly, it wasn't based on a grand plan or a romantic dream. It began at a time when my life was really stormy—and I was mainly looking for something to hold on to. During a period of burnout, I discovered the power of calligraphy—not as art, but as a way to find peace and recuperation.

We had just moved, were busy with a renovation, and I had just started a new job when my father suddenly passed away. He left my mother behind… along with her Alzheimer's. My mother needed help, and I wanted to be there for her, just as I was for my family. I worked as a classroom teacher at an elementary school, and that's not the best place to take a break. It felt like I was constantly having to remember things, organize things, and think ahead. My head would literally spin sometimes with all the things that needed to be done. After two years in survival mode, the light went off for me.

At first, I thought I was "just a little tired," but I couldn't stop crying. Every sound was too much. I couldn't sit still anymore; I kept pacing back and forth, moving things around the house. Sleeping was impossible, too. And somewhere in that chaos, I thought: I need to do something that's just mine. Something that's not about worries, not about plans, or to-dos, but just… rest.

My first experiences with calligraphy during burnout recovery

It was November. Cold, dark, wet. The time of year when you'd rather stay indoors. I signed up for an online calligraphy course—mainly because it didn't require me to leave the house. No hustle and bustle, no stimuli, no expectations. Just creative relaxation, something I could do at my own pace, in silence.

I had hoped to find a relaxing hobby, but I never imagined it would change my life.

I still remember the first time I saw the ink flow from my calligraphy pen. (That took a while, by the way, because I had no idea how to get it to work.) But when it finally did, something special happened. It was as if my mind suddenly stopped. As if all the pressure, thoughts, and worries disappeared for a moment. Just me, the pen, the paper—and the rhythm of the lines.

That moment… felt so blissful. While mindfully writing, a deep relaxation came over me.

Getting started with full dedication: how calligraphy brought peace to the chaos

Just like I do everything, I did this with complete dedication. And yes, that's exactly how you get burnout, dear friends. So don't try this at home. As soon as I'd dropped the kids off at school, I'd put pen to paper—and I wouldn't stop until my alarm went off to pick them up again. I regularly forgot to eat lunch. I was so focused.

And it worked. Because I practiced so much, I made rapid progress. I finished the online course, which was supposed to take a year and a half, in a month and a half. And then? Then I wanted more. Another course. And another. And another. I almost felt like it was a waste of time to reintegrate into school. I had been eagerly anticipating the moment I could start rebuilding, but I also thought, "Help, but when am I supposed to do calligraphy?!" Calligraphy had become like breathing. My salvation, but also my necessity.

The first question

One day, a dear colleague (thanks, Ayla!) asked me to write some wedding invitations. I thought it was a great honor, and a little nerve-wracking too. Until then, I'd only done calligraphy for myself, but I realized I loved making others happy even more. That little bit of handiwork that can make someone's day special—that's what touched me.

I decided to create an Instagram account just to track my progress. Not with a grand plan, but simply: "Look, this is what I tried today." To my surprise, I received so many sweet comments from strangers. That gave me wings.

From hobby to sharing: how my calligraphy made others happy

Not long after, the assignments started pouring in, and I registered with the Chamber of Commerce (KVK). "De Schoonschrijfster" (The Writer in Beauty) seemed like a fitting name, as it perfectly describes what I love most: writing in beautiful style. I couldn't have known then that I'd be collaborating with major international brands and that all those non-Dutch people can't pronounce my name. Pretty inconvenient, then. But hey, when you know everything in advance...

Sometimes I have to pinch myself when I'm on location for an exclusive brand activation or when I'm flown in for a calligraphy job.

There are times when I hear myself thinking: “As a teacher, I used to get no further than Duinrell or Drievliet, and now… I get to go everywhere.”

But no matter how big or special a commission is, what I continue to find most beautiful is what calligraphy means to me personally.

Calligraphy as an anchor: finding peace with pen and ink

Even though it's my job now, calligraphy is still my haven. My anchor. On days when everything seems a bit too much, I sit down, dip my pen in the ink, and breathe.

The world slows down the moment my pen touches paper. The lines, the rhythm, the concentration… it brings me back to myself. When I do calligraphy, there's no room for planning or worrying. I sit and I write. And that's enough.

Sometimes I think back to that moment in November, when I first held a calligraphy pen. How awkward it felt, how messy my first letters were. And then I look at where I am now—the lovely, inspiring people I get to meet, the events I get to do, the students I get to mentor—and above all, I feel gratitude.

Not because it all happened naturally, but because something small, something that started as a search for peace, has become such a big part of my life.

What calligraphy taught me about peace, mindfulness and personal growth

Calligraphy has given me much more than a new profession. It has taught me to slow down. To pay attention to detail. To see mistakes as part of growth. And perhaps most importantly: that you don't always have to look far for satisfaction: sometimes it's simply in an ink line that's perfectly on slant.

It also taught me that you can transform something that arises from necessity – a search for peace, a hobby in the chaos – into something that brings beauty not only to you, but also to others.

Finally: calligraphy as a path to balance and creativity

I started calligraphy because I felt lost. And it was there that I found something that brought me back into balance. Now, years later, when I see people experiencing that same peace for the first time during a workshop, or when someone is touched by a handwritten detail at an event, I know: this is why I do it.

Calligraphy began as a hobby, became my passion, and then grew into my profession. But deep down, it remains what it always was: a moment of silence, with ink, pen, paper, and… a little magic.