When Life Hits Hard: My Personal Story of Loss, Struggle and Fighting to Move Fo …

Life has a way of testing you when you least expect it. Many know me as the guy behind Creative Bladers—the brand, the designs, the stories. But the truth is, behind all that, I’ve been carrying more weight than I ever thought possible. This blog isn’t about skating, style, or community. It’s about me—Andy—the human being who’s been fighting battles no one sees.


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Losing Home and Stability

On July 1st, I had to say goodbye to the vacation house where I was living on a camping site. For a while, that place had been my shelter, my little corner of peace. It wasn’t perfect, but it was mine. It gave me freedom, privacy, and a sense of independence.

Leaving it behind wasn’t a choice. It was a reality forced on me. Suddenly, I was packing my life into boxes, not because I wanted to move forward, but because I had no other option.

I had to move back to my mother’s place. And even though I’m grateful she opened her door for me, it felt like a step backward. At 28 years old, I didn’t imagine myself returning home like this. The independence I had built crumbled overnight, and with it came a deep sense of instability.

When you lose your home, you don’t just lose a roof—you lose a routine, a comfort zone, a part of yourself. Nights became louder in their silence, mornings heavier, and every day started with the reminder that I had lost control of where I was headed.


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Love, Loss, and the Silence That Hurts

As if losing my place wasn’t enough, my relationship ended around the same time. After three years of living and building life with Zoë, she told me she wasn’t in love anymore. Hearing those words felt like a knife in my chest.

We had history—our first kiss in Zandvoort, countless small routines that became big memories. Suddenly, all of that collapsed into silence.

She said she wanted to stay friends. But for me, that wasn’t possible—not when my heart still loved her. So the only way was no contact. No messages, no calls, no familiar voice. Just silence.

Love doesn’t vanish overnight. It lingers—in songs that remind me of her, in places we went together, in the way I scroll through my phone at 2 a.m. wondering if she ever thinks about me. That silence cuts deeper than words.


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Work, Promises, and Missed Chances

I thought work might be one place where I could still hold on to something steady. But even there, disappointment followed me.

Earlier this year, I worked hard and believed I had a real shot at a promotion. I gave energy, time, and commitment to prove myself. I hoped for recognition, for that next step forward. But the promotion went to someone else. It hit me harder than I expected—not just because of the missed opportunity, but because it felt like all the effort I put in didn’t matter.

On top of that, I faced conflicts about sick leave, which wasn’t approved even when I was struggling mentally. I felt like a number on paper instead of a person. And to make things worse, the Formula 1 tickets I had won through work—a highlight I was looking forward to—were taken away after the breakup with Zoë. What should’ve been a celebration turned into another loss.


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Friendships That Faded

Losing love and a home was already painful. But sometimes life decides to take even more. I also broke ties with two good friends. People I trusted, people I thought would always be there.

Friendship isn’t just about good times—it’s about standing together when life gets rough. But sometimes, differences, tension, or broken trust create a distance that can’t be closed anymore. Ending those connections was painful. It left me feeling more isolated, like my circle kept shrinking while the problems kept growing.


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Holding On to Passions

In all this chaos, one thing gave me something to hold on to: my car. My Kia Picanto turned into more than just transportation—it became my project, my therapy.

I wrapped it in a chameleon-style film, installed new speakers, a subwoofer, LED lights, and even gold accents inside. Piece by piece, I built something that reflected my creativity and gave me back a sense of control.

It wasn’t easy—figuring out wiring, fixing connections, testing fuses. Sometimes it was frustrating, sometimes it was rewarding. But every change I made was proof that I could still create, still move forward, even when life tried to stop me.

To outsiders it might just be “a car.” But to me, it’s a reminder: I’m still capable of building something meaningful, even when other parts of my life are falling apart.


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The Weight of It All

Stack it all together:

Losing my vacation house on the camping site.

Losing Zoë after three years together.

Missing out on the promotion I worked hard for.

Having conflicts at work.

Breaking bonds with two friends who once meant the world to me.


It’s a lot. Too much, sometimes. The weight is heavy. There are mornings when I wake up and wonder what’s left to fight for. Afternoons where silence in the room feels like punishment. Nights where sleep refuses to come because my head keeps replaying memories and regrets.

But through it all, something inside me refuses to quit. Maybe it’s stubbornness. Maybe it’s survival instinct. Or maybe it’s just the simple fact that even when life tries to break you down, you only truly lose when you stop standing back up.


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Why I’m Sharing This

I’m not sharing this story for pity. I’m sharing it because social media and blogs often show the highlights, the smiles, the perfect moments. But behind those, many people are carrying battles no one sees.

If you’ve been through something similar, know this: you’re not alone. Life can strip away love, stability, trust, and opportunity all at once. But as long as we’re breathing, there’s a chance to rebuild.

Creative Bladers was never just about skating—it’s about freedom, creativity, and being real. And being real means showing the raw side of life too. Because creativity isn’t just in tricks or style—it’s also in how we deal with pain, how we express our truth, and how we find a way to keep moving.


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Moving Forward

I don’t know exactly what the future holds. Maybe I’ll rebuild the friendships I’ve lost—or maybe I’ll find new ones. Maybe love will return in some form, maybe it won’t. Maybe work will recognize me one day, or maybe I’ll take a completely different path.

What I do know is this: I’m still here. Still fighting. Still creating. Still refusing to let all of this be the end of me.

And maybe, right now, that’s enough.


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👉 If you want to support me and the journey I’m on, check out Creative Bladers on Etsy. Every design I create carries the same resilience and fire that keeps me moving forward.