FORGED IN FIRE: The Raw Story of Beast Mode Club

Yes, you look at the logo and see a confident woman sitting on a barbell, in a bikini, wearing horns. But that’s not just some surface-level glam. That woman represents the deep scars that built her. She is the Beast. She is the woman born in the absolute darkest moments of life—the moments when she wished she could just disappear from the world. But instead of giving up, she took her power back, again and again. She chose to fight life, to fight for what belongs to her, and to unleash her inner strength.

The Fire That Forged the Beast

Like anyone else's, my journey was no straight line to success. I always say: I had to lick the shit twice in my life, and I’ve hit rock bottom from underneath the bottom itself. Not once, not twice, but many times. My life was, and still is, a battlefield.

It started early. As a young teen, I was the one everyone laughed at, mocking my weight and appearance. But the harshest blows didn't come from classmates or friends—they came from within my own home. I grew up without support, facing parents who struggled to find pride in anything I did or achieved. My mother would forbid me from eating to force me to lose weight, while my father, returning from work for the weekends, taught us the exact opposite: to overeat.

My young brain was caught in a trap, never understanding whether I was allowed to eat or not. This internal war showed on the outside; my health, my skin, and my body didn’t look nice at all. I remember the physical shame of it. When I ran, my arms and ass shook like jelly. Every time I sat down, my pants would slide down to the middle of my butt. That shame was so heavy it dictated my entire life. I never wore shorts. I never wore short sleeves. Instead, I spent my summers suffocating in long, black layers—hiding from the world, praying the black fabric would make me look just a bit slimmer and keep me invisible.

Then university came, and I finally walked into a gym to start working on myself. At the same time I was at university, I spent my weekends studying at Institute in the Czech Republic, focusing on fitness and nutrition. One day, I told one of the lectors there—a guy I really looked up to—that I wanted to compete in Bikini Fitness. He looked me up and down and flat out told me I would never be a bikini athlete. He said those girls looked completely different than me. Thanks for motivating me, man! I was deeply disappointed, but I locked that dream in my head anyway.

During high-school years, I was also trapped in a long-term, extremely toxic relationship, I couldn’t talk with anyone about. Manipulated to keep quiet. My nights looked like crying in bed, stressed out, dreaming of an escape. At 17 years old, he was older, I honestly didn't realize that his violent, unpredictable behavior was because he was on hard core drugs plus he smoked weed like cigarettes every day. And of course it was also his business. I was literally freaking out of police squad but more that one day he would unlock his drawer and I’d have his gun pointed at my face. Needless to say, I developed some pretty hardcore insomnia.

Except for one good partner who I am deeply thankful for, every other man in my life was a total nightmare. Yelling at me, attacking me psychologically, manipulating me, using me, cheating, and lying straight to my face with zero shame. Leaving my last toxic relation-shit— which was literally just four months ago as I write this—left me with severe panic attacks. My body would violently shake from the stress, completely drenched in cold sweat.

The Ultimate Test

But the most brutal transformation of my early 20s was the grief. I watched my mother die in front of my eyes in a hospice bed from bone cancer. I have never seen even an animal suffer that much in a horror movie. I cared for her every single day for months, hiding my tears in the toilet so she wouldn't see me break. I worked two jobs—one in a gym and one in heavy construction—deluding myself that if I just made enough money, I could buy some special treatments to save her. I spent my days surrounded by dying people. I saw so much death. My mum, my family, and the strangers in those hospital beds. Every day, someone I had talked to just a day before would simply disappear.

After she died, I just wanted to run away from my country. I ended up in New Zealand with one backpack, a few pairs of socks, and some clothes. That was it. My English was totally broken. I found a job as a gym receptionist, but I was so terrified of the language barrier that I would pretend to vacuum just so I wouldn't have to answer the ringing phone.

Slowly, communicating with my hands and legs, I got my first clients as a trainer. But then the pandemic hit. Visa issues forced me out of that gym, leaving me without work for a month. Later, I started building my business in a new gym, running on pure fire, prepping my first bikini athletes, and living the dream—until the owner changed the business model and kicked all the trainers out. Goodbye, dream.

With the pandemic raging, finding a new gym job was impossible. To top it all off, I was scammed. So there I was: no job, no money, in a foreign country with no family, shaking in my bed for two nights straight without closing my eyes, wondering what the hell I was going to do. I took cleaning jobs just to survive while building a small gym in my rented garage. Three months into running my own trainings, the landlord suddenly sold the house. Driving home to find "For Sale" billboards and strangers walking through the property was a brutal surprise.

Goodbye, new business. Again. I ended up scrubbing floors and toilets at a gas station and in Airbnbs. I went from being a proud businesswoman with projects to a smelly cleaner riding a bike everywhere. I couldn't even afford a coffee. Working three cleaning jobs from early morning to late at night, I was drowning in shame. I hated myself. I felt like an absolute nobody.

Breaking and Rebuilding

Survival meant moving to a different city and starting my business and life over by myself. Again. Surprisingly, I smashed it and built it back up. But, of course, another idiot came into my life to treat me like shit and cheat on me. After getting rid of him, I poured all my stressed-out energy into a hardcore prep for a bodybuilding competition.

It was an exhausting, brutal prep that broke my already fragile health even more. I didn't agree with my coach's approach, but I was so desperate to perform my best that I endured his hardcore, male-centric methods. Yes, I won medals. But the price was my hormonal health, which was already damaged for years. That’s when I realized, once and for all: I will never be coached by a man in any part of my life, business or fitness. Their systems are simply not aligned with the female body.

What do you think happened to me after all this shit-licking? My health spiraled. It got to the point where I couldn't even move around the house over the weekend because I had zero energy. Then, I crashed. I thought I was having a stroke, but the Emergency doctor just sent me home saying, "You’re fine. Just rest."

A week later, I didn't even know my own name. I woke up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, seeing a bright light in front of me. I felt my mum. She was either coming to get me or desperately warning me that I needed to do something right now or I would die. I truly felt those were my last days on Earth.

I went back to the doctors and told them my thyroid was crashing. They dismissed me. But I knew my body. Finally, I was diagnosed with a severely underactive thyroid. I spent a year checking in with doctors with zero improvement. Constant pain, no strength, depression, chest pain, arm pain, hair loss, weak memory. I literally had to relearn how to put rice into a rice cooker. Training? After ten years of lifting heavy shit, I was suddenly just happy to be able to do bodyweight squats.

These are just a few highlights of my perfect "rock bottom" stories. I could keep going, and unfortunately, I still keep collecting them. But through it all, I increased my self-love and my boundaries immensely. My self-reflection opened my eyes and I fiercely protect my peace and my health now, and I am way too strong-minded to ever give up.

Dreams Don’t Have an Expiration Date

Even as a little girl, I was a dreamer. I saw myself traveling the world, living abroad, standing on a stage, writing a book, and creating something that would genuinely change women’s lives. And no matter what happened to me — even when I was drowning in grief, shame, fear, or exhaustion — I always came back to that vision.

I wiped my tears, stood back up, returned to the voice inside me. To the Beast.

Every time someone told me “no,” something inside whispered calmly, confidently: “Watch me. Watch me do it twice.” And now, as I write this, I realize something powerful. I did it. I traveled. I competed. I won. I built my business from nothing. I transformed my body and rebuilt my health. And I’ve helped hundreds of women transform theirs.

But here is the truth: reaching your dreams doesn’t silence the hunger. It expands it. Because once you rise, you don’t stop. You raise the bar. Dreams don’t expire. They evolve. I am in Beast Mode. And I don’t intend to be here alone. This is a CLUB.

Why “Beast Mode Club”?

The phrase was born in the gym. I would push my clients and say, “Come on, you are a Beast. Turn on your Beast Mode.” But it was never just about lifting heavier weights. It was about flipping a mental switch. That moment when you stop negotiating with your limits. When you feel pressure and choose to rise instead of shrink. When you realize you are stronger than you allowed yourself to believe.

One day, while talking about this mindset with my client Amy, she added one simple word: “Club.” And something clicked. Because Beast Mode was never meant to be a solo journey. It’s a standard. A mindset. A club of women who refuse to stay small.

The Symbolism of the Beast

When I designed the first logo, I didn’t draw perfection. I drew power. A strong, confident, feminine woman sitting on a barbell — because we do the heavy lifting. In training. In business. In life.

She is soft, but she is not weak. She is sexy, but she is not fragile. She has that cheeky devils fire inside her that says, “I know who I am. I know what I'm capable of. Watch me. I'm the Beast.”

This Is Your Invitation

Beast Mode Club is for the woman who feels the pull for more. The woman who has big dreams but hasn’t fully claimed them yet. The woman who knows she is meant for growth, strength, and freedom. The woman who is done playing small. This is about building a body that reflects your power. A mind that protects your peace. A foundation so strong that nothing — and no one — can break it.

When you take care of your body, your mindset, and your standards, you become unstoppable. And you don’t have to do it alone. I mentor women who are ready to rise — physically, mentally, and emotionally. Women who are ready to step into their next level and commit to it. We are women who walked through fire — and decided to wear the flames like a crown.

This is Beast Mode Club. The only question is: Are you ready to become THE BEAST?