Sylvia Buys the Tickets

May 2025. Stefan Rumi is celebrating his birthday in Cyprus. May 9th to 12th. He'd invited me weeks in advance.

And I couldn't make up my mind.

I had a thousand reasons. Money was tight. Leave my wife alone with two kids so I could party in Cyprus for four days? Not an option. Bad timing — I was deep in the Booster project. Workshops were running. Emails going out. Momentum.

But the truth was: I was done. Completely overworked. Zero energy. Zero focus. Everything felt heavy. The 80-page workbook had burned me out. The last five years had burned me out. I just hadn't admitted it to myself.

For weeks I kept pushing the decision back and forth. Stefan kept asking. You coming? You not coming? And every time I dodged. "Still looking into it." "Things are tough right now." "Let me think about it."

Everyone knows this. You know what you want, but you don't have the nerve. So you tell yourself: "Next time." And "next time" becomes "never."

The Cancellation

In the end I cancelled. Stefan wasn't just disappointed — he was hurt. Can't blame him. His best friend bails two weeks before his birthday because he "can't get his shit together," as Stefan would put it.

My reason? I couldn't imagine leaving my wife alone with the kids for four days so I could celebrate in Cyprus. It didn't compute. Not in my situation. Not with my bank balance.

10 Minutes

Sylvia, Stefan's partner, messaged me. Not angry. Concerned. "Alex, what's going on with you?"

I told her the truth. For the first time. Not the business version, not the "things are tough right now" version. The real one: I can't afford it. Not financially. Not time-wise. Not energy-wise.

10 minutes of silence.

Then she sends me a message. With the flight tickets. Booked. Paid for.

"Now you can't back out."

What do you do? You fly to Cyprus.

4 Days That Changed Everything

I spent four days in Cyprus. Paphos. Sun, sea, good food, good conversations. Nothing dramatic. No enlightenment on a mountaintop. Just four days out of the hamster wheel.

But something shifted inside. I looked at Paphos — really looked at it. The city. The calm. The way people live here. And without realizing it, I asked myself the question: Could you do this too? Just live here? Like Stefan?

At that point: No. I was terrified. How would I do this with the kids? How would I do this financially? What would my wife say? What would the family say?

But the question was there. And questions, once they arrive, don't leave.

Back in Wagenhoff

I flew home. Didn't tell anyone about the question. One to two weeks of silence. Let it settle.

During those weeks I realized what had been bothering me all along. We were living in a tiny bubble with a 30-kilometer radius. School, kindergarten, supermarket, friends. We called that our life. 30 kilometers. That was it.

In 2014 my wife and I had built our house ourselves. With our own hands. Every brick, every tile, every brushstroke. And still: I had never truly felt at home in that area. Never felt like I'd arrived. For eleven years.

And then I went to my wife and said:

"I've made a decision. I don't want any of this anymore. I want to sell our house."

Two Weeks of Tears

For her it was like a punch to the gut. I'd pulled the ground out from under her feet. Our house. The kids. The school. The friends. Everything that was safe.

In that first moment her world collapsed. She wasn't herself for two weeks. A lot of tears. And I understand that. Truly.

But the topic of emigrating had been on the table for three or four years. Never concrete. Always wishful thinking. "Someday." "When the kids are older." "When we have enough money." Croatia had been on the radar for a while — friends had moved there in 2024.

But it was never real. Until now.

When I explained to her why I wanted to do this — not just Cyprus, but out of the hamster wheel, out of the 30-kilometer bubble, out of just functioning — she started to open up.

And then she started asking questions. Practical questions. "When?" "Where exactly?" "What about the school?" "How much do we need?"

And I knew: Now it's real.

What I also didn't know at the time: several of my clients had already moved to Cyprus. I only found that out later. The universe sends signs sometimes — you just have to stop ignoring them.

— Alex, Wagenhoff, May 2025

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Sometimes you need someone to buy you the tickets.

I would never have flown to Cyprus. Would never have sold the house. Would never have launched the Booster as its own business. All because one person said: Enough — you're coming.