Happy New Year everyone, and welcome to 2026. Wow, time really does fly. 2016, a year that in my mind is still one of the best years of all time, is already a decade behind us. The day before yesterday I shared a few Instagram stories with photos from that year, after scrolling through the photo album on my phone. “I was so cool in 2016,” I wrote, with a touch of melancholy.

I went to Japan twice. Six weeks in the spring, and a month in the fall. From Japan, I visited Hong Kong and Shanghai for my Disney bingo. In Tokyo I saw Charlotte, Riemer, Jeske, Tjarda, Charis, and Britt. In Hong Kong I saw Maan, and then Charis again. Riemer and I went to Huis ten Bosch and Gunkanjima, and saw the deer in Nara.

I photographed a campaign for SuitSuit under the cherry blossoms, and while I was in the Netherlands, I worked with Maan on shoots for Blink Shoes, and with my brother on shoots for Ydence. I also did several projects with a social focus, such as this shoot for the ISK.

My book didn’t exist yet. That’s always strange to realize. In 2016, I was a photographer with a blog. I had only just stopped with Fashionmilk – I remember replacing the Fashionmilk banner with one that said Toeps Blog, with Charlotte sitting next to me in the share house room. I found it terrifying.

Of course, 2016 wasn’t all fun and games. When you look back, you tend to see only the highlights. In this blog, I wrote about how hard I found the transition from Japan back to the Netherlands, and how I struggled with loneliness and panic once I was home.

After I posted those throwbacks the day before yesterday, including that caveat, someone replied: “Unmasking and the accompanying skill regression can really suck, but it’s easy to forget the daily meltdowns caused by constantly pushing yourself.” Oh right. Of course. It’s pretty stupid that I, autism expert Toeps, hadn’t seen that more clearly yet.

I have significantly fewer headaches now than I did back then. Maybe because I no longer throw myself into every project like a headless chicken. Because these days I go to the ten euro hairdresser, where you’re back outside in ten minutes, instead of spending an entire day with my head in a sink for pink/blue hair and a full day of headaches. “Still, I find it hard to answer the question of which of the two is better,” the commenter writes. Me too. And it’s not like I’m doing nothing now. Hell, I’m publishing an entire book independently. As if that’s not an adventure.

In this blog, which I wrote in December 2016, I talked about a small room like the one I had in Japan. And about how life in the Netherlands came with too many stimuli. We’re ten years on now. First I moved into my small room in The Hague, then into a micro-apartment in Japan. Toeps from ten years ago would be incredibly proud.

Yesterday I called Charlotte. I complained about my life. About how, without really noticing it, it has gone in a direction I never wanted. I had always wanted to live in a small room, have hardly any fixed expenses, and travel a lot. I told her how I’d been looking through my old photos, and how it struck me how much I used to do. Going to Japan on my own. To Hong Kong on my own. To Shanghai on my own. Sure, Charlotte came to visit, Riemer came to visit, I shared a hotel room with Maan in Hong Kong and stayed with Charis. But I was the one making the plans. “Doing things on your own is your strength,” Charlotte said.

So what on earth happened? Why am I now sitting around almost every morning waiting for François to wake up? Why have I adapted my entire life to his rhythm – a rhythm I actually can’t keep up with? Why do I live with him in a large, expensive house with two cats? What happened?!

Of course, I still have my mini-apartment slash office, and I sleep there sometimes. And yes, I chose this myself. Or well – financially and visa-wise, this was the best option. But it’s too much. Just like it was too much in 2016. Except back then Japan was my escape, and now it’s my home. Did I play myself in a really stupid way, and take away my own escape?

I never wanted to tie myself down financially, but somehow – Japanese company, accountants, lawyers, big house – everything here feels suffocating. (I’ve already made some improvements: I lowered my contribution to the rent here, because I never chose such an expensive house. And I’m almost done dissolving the company, which I no longer need thanks to my spouse visa.) François is in France right now, and for the first time I finally have some room to breathe. It’s not that I want to be alone forever, because then I’d feel lonely. But every now and then, I just need to go away, to live my own life. This time not to Japan, but to the Netherlands.

I’m flying out in early March. I’ll be staying for almost two months. I’ve booked my room, already scheduled talks and appointments, and I’ll be picking a date for shoots soon. It’s strange, but somehow it feels like a journey back to myself.