Not everything fits into a drawer.

Between workbench and whiteboard

My path has never been particularly straight.

I trained as an automotive mechatronics technician, learning to take things apart, trace faults and make them work again. Later came mechatronics, energy efficiency, research, laser technology, automated driving and the testing of complex technical systems.

Alongside them are wood and metal, computers and artificial intelligence, psychology and philosophy, books and images, martial arts, social projects and, time and again, people with ideas, questions or problems that fit no ready-made category.

For a long time, I thought I would eventually have to choose one of these worlds.

Today I know that connecting them is my real strength.

I can quickly find my way into unfamiliar subjects, bring different perspectives together and build bridges between a vague idea and practical implementation. Formal education and professional experience help. Yet many of my most important abilities grew where there was no manual and no predefined path.

The other side of strength

For a long time, I functioned.

I could endure a great deal, take responsibility and keep going long after something had ceased to be right. I often treated my energy, attention and lifetime as though they were simply available.

Perhaps you know people who feel a no and say yes anyway. Who notice a boundary and still cross it. Who are excellent at finding solutions for others, yet notice very late what they themselves need.

I know this from my own life.

Many of our behaviours were once sensible answers to earlier experiences. We inherit expectations, protective mechanisms and solutions from our families and surroundings. Eventually they stop feeling learned and begin to feel like our personality.

For me, change did not begin with one great moment of liberation. At first I recognised old reactions long afterwards, then shortly afterwards, and eventually while they were happening. Slowly, a small space appeared between what reached me from outside and my response.

A new question became possible in this space:Is this truly my yes — or merely an old solution?

Not less strong, but more deliberate

I am learning to notice my boundaries earlier and express them more clearly. At the same time, I am becoming better at recognising where other people's boundaries lie.

I am learning to know myself instead of merely managing myself. I am learning to accept myself instead of correcting myself without end.

This releases energy that was previously bound up in resistance against myself. That weariness of resistance is slowly dissolving. Old solutions lose their attraction when their former function is no longer needed.

It becomes easier.

Not in a straight line. Not everywhere at once. But the direction is clear.

I do not want to lose my resilience, curiosity or energy. The ability to leave comfort zones, endure difficulty and remain upright under pressure is part of me too.

Yet every strength has another side. Those who can endure a lot sometimes stay too long. Those who cross boundaries easily may overlook their own. Those who find solutions everywhere quickly take responsibility for problems that are not theirs. And those interested in many things rarely fit neatly into an ordinary drawer.

I am not learning to be less strong or engaged. I am learning to use my strength more consciously.

We do not have to carry on as before

This strength comes alive in the thought that things do not have to remain as they are.

Our history shapes us, but it does not determine us completely. Ways of working can change, systems can become more humane and abilities can be connected in new ways. Even where no finished path exists, there is often a next possible step.

For me, change begins with my own part. I cannot credibly call for a more humane world without examining my own patterns, boundaries and effect on others. I am not responsible for everything. But I am responsible for what I bring into the world.

Change may begin there — but it should not end there.

People do not live in a vacuum. We move through relationships, organisations and social structures that can open or close possibilities. It is not enough to teach people to adapt more effectively to bad systems. Sometimes the systems must change too.

What ‘Jack of all Trades’ means to me

The name is not a claim that I can do everything.

It describes an ability to enter new territory, recognise connections and bring different worlds together:

• craft and technology,
• structure and creativity,
• artificial intelligence and human experience,
• economic viability and social value,
• big ideas and the next workable step.

Some projects begin with a broken object. Others begin with a business idea, a confusing process, a book, a website or the wish to change something in one's own life.

I am interested not only in what should be built. I want to understand why it is needed, whom it serves and whether it genuinely helps the person behind it.

This creates very different projects. Yet their shared core remains the same:

understand, connect and implement.

Offering a hand without taking the wheel

The better I come to know my own baggage, the more clearly I see that other people are carrying something too.

I do not know its full contents, nor may I decide whether someone should open, keep or put it down. People are not projects for me to repair. Help should not build a new cage.

I therefore do not want to impose a finished path on anyone.

I can listen, ask questions, make connections visible, add missing abilities and help turn an idea into a viable next step. I can offer a hand, but I do not want to take the walking away from anyone.

Good collaboration creates more agency, not more dependency.