Known as the wife of… remembered for everything after.
Auteur: Laura Denissen-Jungerhans
Author | Speaker | Carnivore with a mission
I’m Laura, mother of two, married to a former professional footballer, and someone who has always taken the road less traveled.
In 2012, we left the Netherlands with a tiny 3-week-old preemie and landed in the U.S., chasing dreams and carrying only one thing for sure: trust in each other. From Texas to New York, Wisconsin to Georgia, we built our own version of life, far away from expectations.
Nearly a decade later, we returned to the Netherlands. Not because we had to, but because life took a turn, loss, grief, responsibility. I picked up the pieces, became the provider, found strength in chaos… and a job you don’t apply for, you earn. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that shaped my next chapter.
That chapter included a health crash, a diagnosis called FNS (Functional Neurological Syndrome), and a radical transformation through lifestyle and nutrition. I found power in simplicity, energy in animal-based eating, and joy in the quiet act of rebuilding.
Now I write, not because I claim to know the truth, but because this is my experience.
Raw. Unpolished. And real.
My mission is simple: to inspire through honesty, humor, and the kind of strength that comes from falling hard and rising anyway.
“This isn’t the truth. It’s my experience.
And it’s taught me more than any script ever could.”
Discipline is boring, and that’s exactly why it works. A short reflection on carnivore, consistency, and not renegotiating with yourself every morning.
A polite meditation on listening, nodding, and not saying the thing you’re definitely thinking, while everyone around you feels awful, drinks green juice, and calls it normal.
Thought going carnivore was just steak and chill? Think again. I turned into a sugar-high Pixar character, nearly became a salmon, and now glow from snail slime and tallow. Here’s what I wish I knew before I joined the meat cult (minus the robes… for now)
As the only full-blown carnivore in a house of carb enthusiasts, Thanksgiving is not exactly my Super Bowl. It’s more like a really polite hostage situation where the captors wear matching aprons and offer you “just a taste” of everything that could possibly spike your insulin and your anxiety.
After four days of eating salmon in every form imaginable, I started questioning my life choices. Was it bad fish… or was I slowly turning into a magnetic field from mercury overload?