Marine Sélénée

02/11/2026

The Price of Our Freedom Was Becoming Masculine
For women born between 1980 and 1995
We were the generation told we could have everything.
Careers. Financial independence. Sexual freedom. A voice. A seat at the table.
We were raised to believe that nothing should limit us — and in many ways, that promise opened extraordinary doors.
But somewhere along the way, there was a silent exchange.
In order to access freedom, many of us learned to live in constant doing.
To perform. To achieve. To push. To stay strong.
To lead with control instead of trust.
To be productive instead of receptive.
We didn’t just step into independence — we stepped into the masculine full-time.
And now, many women born between the 80s and mid-90s are feeling the consequences in their bodies and nervous systems.
Exhaustion. Anxiety. High cortisol. Burnout.
Difficulty conceiving. Hormonal dysregulation.
A constant sense of being “on.”
We were told we could have everything — but not how to hold it without abandoning ourselves.
Somewhere deep down, many of us are asking:
Where are the men?
Where is the support?
Where is the safety to soften?
Because the truth is not that women shouldn’t be strong, capable, or independent.
It’s that we were never meant to carry everything alone.
For decades, we learned how to survive in a world that rewarded masculine traits: productivity, performance, control, self-sufficiency.
But the feminine cannot thrive in permanent survival mode.
The feminine needs rhythm.
Rest.
Safety.
Trust.
Support.
Space to receive.
This is not about going backward.
It’s about coming back into balance.
Reconnecting to the feminine does not mean becoming passive or dependent.
It means allowing ourselves to soften where we have been armored.
To ask for support.
To trust again — carefully, consciously.
To stop living as if we must always hold the weight of the world on our shoulders.
The real question is not only:
How do women return to their feminine?
But also:
Are men ready to meet us there?
Are they ready to create safety, partnership, and shared responsibility?
Are we ready to let them?
This is the conversation of our generation.
A generation of strong women.
Free women.
And very tired women.
Maybe the next chapter is not about having everything.
Maybe it’s about not having to carry everything.
And learning, slowly, how to come home to ourselves again.

02/08/2026

It’s a delicate place to stand—between love, medicine, and the natural rhythm of life.

Sometimes we are brought into the world without choosing it, and often we are kept here by the will and care of others. Our lives are held, extended, and shaped by the love and decisions of those around us.

Watching my grandfather at the end of his life has made me reflect on this deeply. At 93, he seems ready to go. He has lived, he is tired, and yet his family does everything possible to keep him here. If he forgets his medication, is that his way of letting go? And if we make sure the nurse gives it to him, are we supporting him—or preventing him from leaving? Where is the line between care and control, between forcing life and honoring someone’s readiness to go?

I find myself asking similar questions about birth. How often do we intervene with inductions or synthetic oxytocin? Of course, there are moments when medical intervention is necessary and lifesaving for both mother and baby. But are we always fully informed about the real risks and the real needs? When a woman’s body isn’t ready to give birth, do we pause to ask why? Is her body closed because it doesn’t feel safe yet? Because something in her environment, her nervous system, or her story is asking for more time?

I’m not rejecting medicine. I’m questioning where we place our trust. At what point do we rely more on intervention than on the intelligence of the body? How do we balance doing what is “right” medically with trusting nature, cycles, and the deep wisdom within us that has always known how to begin and how to end?

Perhaps the real question is not whether to intervene or not, but how to listen more closely—to the body, to the person, to the moment. How to support without forcing. How to accompany without controlling. How to love someone enough to help them live, and sometimes, to let them go.

02/05/2026

Women often commit. Men often decide.
That’s why we’re sometimes out of sync — and honestly, it’s okay.
A woman is taught to commit early: to her body, to consequences, to emotional investment. So when she’s with someone, she doesn’t always “decide” every day — she commits and works through things.
That’s why she can go through thick and thin. But when she finally leaves, she rarely comes back. Her commitment has already run its course.
Some men move more through decision: “I love you today.”“Tomorrow I’m not sure.” “I want you back two weeks later.”
It’s not always cruelty — sometimes it’s just a different operating system.
But when a man both decides and commits to you? Oh… that’s a good one.
Food for thought.

02/01/2026

"Hopeless Love lasts longer. We spin a fantasy around it, knowing it’s already over while trying to hold on to the last crumbs, just to see whether anything can still be saved. Hopeful love may be shorter, but it is fully alive." Marine Selenee

I don’t believe in love anymore. I keep thinking I should have trusted him/her. I feel like I hate love — never again. And yet it goes on…

When I’m interviewed and asked, “What is the main theme of your practice?” the answer is always the same: Love.

Love in all shapes and forms. Love governs everything. It has such power over all of us.

We want to be loved. We want love. We want to understand it, define it, hold it.

There are as many forms of love as there are people on this planet: the silent love, the secret love, the abusive love, the co-dependent love, the forced love, the forbidden love, the true love, the love that hurts, the love that makes you grow, the love that asks you to let go.

I love Maya Angelou’s idea of choosing to love one more time — because no matter the pain or the broken heart, we still believe in love. We still want love, at any age.

Choosing love is choosing life. And where does it begin? With the mother, and then the father — but primarily with the mother, in that unbreakable early bond between mother and child.

How did you feel loved by your mother? Not enough? Too much? Look now at your relationships with men and women. So often we repeat the same dynamics, or we run in the opposite direction to avoid them:
the helicopter mother → running from closeness or commitment
a parent who asked too much → fear of relationships that require emotional presence
an emotionally shut-down father → repeatedly choosing partners who are emotionally unavailable
abandonment in childhood → recreating abandonment in adult relationships

We repeat what needs to be healed.

If you look closely at your love life, you may see that at first it serves to heal your relationship with your parents. Only after that work can you truly access real love — the kind where both partners bring their baggage, but don’t expect the other to fix it. Your partner is not a substitute for a parent and cannot be the solution to wounds that began long before them.

On your own, you learn to regulate your emotions, choose yourself, and communicate your needs. So many breakups or periods of silence come simply from two different perceptions — two people unable to articulate their feelings. And again we can ask: were you seen and heard as a child when you tried to express yourself?

It always comes back to childhood — to the relationships between the adults in your family system.

From there, you get to define your own love life: your rules, your needs, your way of being in love. That is the true beauty of relationship — creating a new form of love together, growing and blossoming with it.

And if you’re struggling with love, with your childhood, or with your parents, I’m here. Let’s work on it together.

Much love,
Marine Selene

01/30/2026

01/30/2026

“I can’t leave. What about the children?”
And I always answer: What about you?
I’ve lost count of the men and women who told me they wanted to separate or divorce but stayed for the kids. And I’ve also worked with those very kids—now adults—who grew up in homes where parents never divorced, yet filled the house with passive-aggression, emotional abuse, cheating, resentment, endless complaints.
And guess who felt everything? The children.
You don’t stay because of your children—you stay because of you. Stop hiding behind them. They are not responsible for your marriage or your relationship. That burden is far too heavy.
Children just want to be children. Yes, divorce can be painful. But trust me—what hurts even more is growing up witnessing a loveless, hopeless marriage and calling it “family.”

01/28/2026

Soothing plants
Whatever your needs — calm, clarity, relaxation — plants can help. And the most soothing among them are often the most common ones. Drink them as herbal infusions, use their essential oils, or simply crush a fresh leaf between your fingers: the scent released immediately relaxes your nervous system. It also acts on your subtle bodies.
Chamomile:�“I help you regain emotional balance. I invite the brightest aspects of your personality to shine.”
Lavender:�“I can deeply recharge your batteries and restore your strength.”
Hops:�“Enjoy the present moment. Tomorrow is another day.”
Lemon balm (Melissa):�“Welcome your painful emotions, feel them, then let them go.”
Passionflower:�“I help you reach a deep state of calm.”
Sage:�“I help you evolve your perspective on the events of your life.”
Verbena:�“I help you rebalance your self-esteem so that you stop being harder on yourself than necessary.”

01/26/2026

01/25/2026

Inflammation is not the enemy.�It’s a defense mechanism.
When the body detects a threat—injury, infection, stress, or irritating foods—it activates the immune system and releases messengers called cytokines. In the short term, acute inflammation is protective. It repairs tissues, fights infections, and supports healing. It is intelligent. It is necessary.
The problem begins when inflammation doesn’t turn off.
When the body stays in a constant state of alert, inflammation becomes chronic. Silent. Low-grade. Exhausting. Over time, it stops repairing and starts damaging—contributing to fatigue, pain, hormonal imbalance, autoimmune patterns, and metabolic dysfunction.
Very often, chronic inflammation is not just physical.�It’s also a nervous system story.
If the body doesn’t feel safe, it stays in defense.
Healing is not about forcing inflammation down.�It’s about removing the threats, restoring balance, and helping the body feel safe enough to shift out of survival.
Because when protection never ends, illness becomes a state.
And your body deserves to come back to repair.

01/22/2026

To My Frozen Children
Today marks one year since I gave birth to my 11 embryos — and nine were selected.I like to believe my children already wanted to send me an angel number, knowing it would make their mom smile. The least they could do… because my frozen children have definitely been expensive. 😉
One year later, I ask myself: if I had known what was going to unfold, would I still have done it?The postpartum.Losing myself.The emotional waves.
Honestly? Probably not.
And yet… maybe that difficult season shaped everything that followed. Maybe it gave birth not only to embryos, but to a new year, a new me, a new way of being, a new way of working. Maybe that experience brought me closer to my true self. We’ll never really know. But today, I choose to honor it.
I also want to acknowledge every woman who is struggling with her motherhood dream, her love life, the absence of the “right” partner, infertility, or the pressure of time and expectations.
You are not too late.Maybe what we are being asked to do is to make peace with where we are.To trust a path we never would have imagined for ourselves — and to believe that it might actually be even better.
So I’m sending love to anyone who thinks their life should look different. Because it might be exactly where you are that the magic is being created.
PS: And knowing that my brother has been waking up at midnight, 2 a.m., and 4 a.m. for the past three weeks because his son refuses to sleep in his own bed… definitely makes me feel better. 😂 I love being an aunt.

01/22/2026

Living in America, most of my clients are American—very often first-generation Americans. And whatever you may think about America, one of its greatest riches is this: it is a country built by immigrants. That is its beauty. All these cultures, religions, backgrounds, and stories that came here to try to build something better. The famous American Dream.
But choosing to move to America is very different from being forced to move in order to survive. To escape war. To escape dictatorship. To escape poverty. To stay alive. To offer your children a future.
So what does it feel like to be the child of that sacrifice?
What does it feel like when your father was a doctor in his country and now cleans hospitals?
What does it feel like when your parents don’t speak English, and you become the translator, the one in charge of administration, papers, phone calls, responsibilities that are far too big for a child?
What does it feel like when you succeed professionally while your parents struggled endlessly?
What does it feel like when you grew up hearing: “We did all of this for you. So you better succeed.”
Very often, what lives underneath is not gratitude—but weight.
Too heavy.“I don’t want to carry this price.”And unconsciously, life becomes about self-sabotage. About staying small. Sometimes about addiction. Because the pressure is too much.
Being the firstborn, being the one who “made it,” being able to create wealth—this is not easy. Sometimes you even leave America, searching for another country, another place, where you can finally feel safe, free, and independent. Where your life can finally be yours.
There is shame.There is guilt.There is pressure.
You want to make your parents proud.And at the same time, you want to say: This was my life. My choice.
You understand the sacrifice. You know that maybe staying would have meant death. And yet—you loved your country. You miss it. You carry it inside you.
And for men, it is often even harder. A man usually holds more power, status, and identity in his country of origin. Exile touches masculinity, dignity, and place very deeply.
Women, in another way, carry “home” within them. Wherever they go, they create roots, connection, life. The first home is the mother.
If you recognize yourself in this story, and you are ready to loosen its weight…to separate love from obligation…to free your life from inherited pressure…
I invite you to work with me.
Book a session. Come to a workshop. Link in bio.