Hi dear listeners, I’m Sigrid and this is Plus Forty-Nine.
This space was created to talk honestly about life in Germany as people with migration stories – the paperwork, the doubts, the small wins, and the big shifts. Today’s guest knows a lot about those shifts: how to burn out, start over, and slowly build a life that actually fits.
With me is Simon de los Rios, life and career coach, Colombian, Miami-raised, Berlin-based world citizen.
Why Germany?
Simon
That’s a great question – and one I’m still answering every day. I was living in Miami and working in a corporate role. At some point it became clear that if I wanted to keep growing, I had to move. There were no offices left for me to move “up” into, so the company said: you can go abroad if you like.
So I started interviewing for different locations. Japan was on the list, and a few European countries – maybe five or six in total. I thought: why stay in the US if I can move abroad on a company contract?
Then I asked myself a strange question: what is the hardest option I can choose?
The language I didn’t speak. The coldest country. The one I’d visited only for four days in my entire life. That answer was Germany.
Sigrid
So you deliberately chose the hardest path.
Simon
Exactly. I was still young; I felt I had time to learn and grow. I figured if I threw myself into something really challenging, there was a good chance I’d grow into someone who could handle it.
From Colombia to Miami to Berlin
Andrea
Before Berlin you were in Miami – and your accent definitely gives that away. In Latin America, people always tell us, “You sound American,” and we’re like: yes, there’s a giant country on our northern border…
How long were you in Miami?
Simon
About fifteen to twenty years. We moved from Colombia when I was young – my parents, my brother and I. I studied in Florida, did college and university there.
And you know this: many of us call Miami the capital of Latin America. Every time there’s a crisis anywhere in the region, another wave of people arrives. You can live there for years and barely speak English. It’s like Berlin with German.
At some point I realised I had basically lost my English, because I never used it. I had to relearn it – which happened again when I moved to Germany.
I was also lucky to spend time in Paris for Erasmus and in Lisbon, where I perfected my Portuguese. So yes, I’ve been around a bit.
Sigrid
So: Colombian roots, Miami years, Paris, Lisbon… and now Berlin. A proper world citizen.
What he does now
Sigrid
Let’s talk about what you do today. How do you describe your work?
Simon
I’m a life and career coach. I help high-performing people navigate transitions – with clarity and structure.
So if someone is going through a reinvention, a big life change, a feeling of misalignment, or simply: this can’t be it – I support them through that process.
I bring about fifteen years of experience in leadership, operations and manufacturing into that work. But honestly, I don’t see it as a “career” in the conventional sense. For me it’s a vocation. It took a while – and several burnouts – to realise that.
Every five years or so I hit a wall at work, took a sabbatical, travelled, reset, came back… and eventually understood that something deeper needed to change.
Listening to intuition again
Sigrid
A lot of migrants and international people are in that situation. You move to a new country, start again from scratch, and suddenly everything is up for questioning.
If I came to you as a new client and said, “I don’t know what I’m doing with my life anymore,” where would we start?
Simon
From the life angle first. What truly motivates you? What excites you? What do you feel drawn to?
Most of us have been trained to think only with our heads. School, university, corporate jobs – all of that teaches us to analyse, calculate, be rational. That’s useful, but the downside is that we forget how to listen to our intuition, our gut, our heart.
So the work often starts by reconnecting to that. One simple practice I use for myself: I make decisions based on excitement. When I have several options, I ask: which one feels most alive? That’s usually the one that doesn’t just come from the head, but from something deeper.
Sigrid
Intuition is such a powerful word, and one we almost never hear growing up. Then you open Instagram and it feels like everyone else has figured life out, except you. The more you compare, the less you hear yourself.
Should we all be taking sabbaticals from Instagram and LinkedIn?
Burnout, silence and the third sabbatical
Simon
You’re touching the core of it: how disconnected we are.
In my case, I had three big burnouts. For fifteen years, every five years almost on the dot, I crashed. I would quit, go on a sabbatical, fly to Nepal or Thailand, disappear for a bit.
The last time, I went to Indonesia and did a silent retreat. That changed everything.
When you go silent for several days, you start hearing things you’ve been ignoring. You listen to yourself without distraction. Looking into the future is hard, but looking back at patterns is easy. My pattern was obvious: every five years I burned out. If I kept going, that would be my reality until retirement.
I didn’t want that. So during that retreat, it became clear: I have to go back, quit, and start something completely new. I had no idea what that would be. I only knew the old script was done.
That led me back to childhood interests, to what had always excited me: supporting people, listening, helping them navigate change. Coaching grew out of that, and I also worked with coaches myself in the process.
Survival mode and the migrant reality
Sigrid
You’re hitting a nerve. Burnout is so common, and going completely silent is not easy – especially as migrants.
When you move to another country, you enter survival mode. You need an apartment, a visa, any job. Maybe it’s not what you want, but your contract ends and you need another one, then another. German isn’t perfect, your CV doesn’t fit the local system, and sometimes it feels like there’s no space for you outside the startup bubble.
How do you carve out inner calm when the external pressure is that intense? When you’re thinking: I don’t have the luxury to “follow my excitement,” I need to pay rent.
Simon
It’s important to acknowledge that reality. We all have responsibilities and bills. That doesn’t disappear.
At the same time, almost all of us have small pockets of time. Not huge blocks – but moments. Ten minutes at the end of the day. A short walk. A quiet half hour on a Sunday.
The question is: what do we do with those pockets? Do we numb out with our phones, scroll ourselves into oblivion, or do we use some of that time to turn inward?
You don’t need a three-week retreat to start. A walk in the park, five minutes of meditation, even a shower where you consciously breathe can create a tiny gap between you and the chaos.
I’m not saying external circumstances don’t matter. I’m saying that if we’re able to cultivate a bit of inner calm, the outside storm becomes easier to navigate.
One small trick that helped me: smiling. The smile is universal. You can go anywhere in the world, smile at someone, and they know exactly what you’re expressing.
If you build the habit of smiling more often – even alone – your nervous system responds. Next time you’re angry or stressed, try smiling. Your shoulders drop. You literally cannot stay fully mad and keep a genuine smile at the same time. It’s a small, strange tool, but surprisingly powerful.
Migration, collapse and starting again
Sigrid
This resonates a lot with me.
My own journey in Germany had many highs, but also the deepest low I’ve ever experienced. I came as a diplomat, working as Press Secretary at the Mexican Embassy for eight years. Then one day it was over. I had two weeks to, in theory, leave the country.
I went from “diplomat” to “person without a visa” very quickly. People who once knew my title suddenly had no time. I was no longer relevant.
It was a brutal fall. But I decided I wanted to stay in Germany. Because of the safety, especially as a woman walking at night. And because I realised I could be as Latin as I wanted here: loud, smiling, hugging, bringing colour into the famous German grey.
In Mexico, I’m “the German one”. In Germany, I’m the extra Latina. Migration is strange like that.
I share this because many people think: “But you came with a diplomatic passport, that must have been easy.” It wasn’t. Losing everything and rebuilding while paying rent and figuring out visas wasn’t easy.
People like you, who understand migration and inner work, are incredibly important in those moments.
Simon
Thank you for sharing that. Your story is very inspiring.
And it’s a strong reminder that we forget our own resilience. We go through these really difficult chapters – visa stress, job loss, starting from zero – and then a few years later we’re on the other side: new work, a podcast, a community.
Sometimes we have to consciously look back and say: I did that. I survived that.
Because the future will bring new ups and downs, and we need those memories as evidence that we can get through hard things and still grow.
Being migrants, being human
Sigrid
Before we close, how can people find you if they feel they’re at that crossroads?
Simon
You can find me on LinkedIn – just search for Simon de los Rios. I also have a website, and I offer a free 45-minute consultation for anyone who’s curious.
For me, it’s all about being human. Especially in this age of artificial intelligence, I think community intelligence is what we need: connecting with others, listening, sharing honestly. That human aspect is fundamental.
Sigrid
I fully agree.
There’s one exercise I usually end my “Surviving Berlin” workshops with, and I want to share it here for everyone listening.
Wherever you are right now, just pause for a second. Look around. Feel your feet on the ground.
You made it.
Whatever came before, whatever is still uncertain ahead – today, you’ve made it. You migrated, you crossed borders, you filed the forms, you faced the fear. That is huge.
So today, we’re clapping for you – because you’re a fighter, because you’re a migrant, because you’re still here, doing this.
Simon
We’re doing this. All of us immigrants here. It’s hard to be an immigrant, but we should be proud of that.
Sigrid
And with that comes a responsibility – to the country that receives us, to our neighbours, to the society we’re now part of. Germany also needs us. It’s easy to forget how recent its own history is: a divided country learning to become something new. In a way, Germans are also figuring out who they are.
Maybe what we can offer is a bit more warmth, a few more hugs and smiles along the way.
Simon
Absolutely. I’m very thankful to Germany for receiving me. I’m learning so much. Berlin is an incredible place – you can feel the history in the streets, and at the same time there’s space for people like us to build something new.
Sigrid
Simon, muchísimas gracias for this conversation – for your honesty, your tools, and your reminder to listen inwards even when everything outside feels loud.
Simon
Thank you, Sigrid. It was a pleasure.