I used to be successful according to society.

I had left a well-paid job in marketing to become an entrepreneur.

And very soon, I could buy anything I wanted -

not anything in the world, anything I wanted, which was a lot still.

My impulse purchases included a brand-new car and a house.

My entire life was just about fun,

and I can say I created some amazing memories,

but it was just fun.

I wanted more. I wanted joy.

I wanted to do something that would last, something that mattered.

So I started working with students, and this was fantastic.

For the first time in my life,

people would come up to me and say,

"Thank you. You've changed my life."

And that was so valuable to me

that I would do it for just a little bit of money

if they wouldn't pay me enough.

I would even do it for free - a lot -

until I reached a point

where even a small financial setback could ruin me as an entrepreneur.

And of course, it did.

In the middle of summer of 2016, when all schools are closed

and I wouldn't have any income for another two months or so,

I received five envelopes at the same time from the tax services,

demanding that I pay for my glory days,

immediately.

This cost me everything I had: all my savings, all the money that I had.

And all I had left in an instant

was just a few coins that I found between the cushions of the sofa

and in my coat pockets and in my car

and 3 euros and 97 cents in the bank.

Two days later,

my daughter would come back from staying with her father.

She would come back on her birthday.

And I couldn't afford to bake her a cake.

What I wanted to do was just to crawl into bed and cry -

which I don't like -

and just hide under the covers until it would all just go away.

But I couldn't.