A platform for deeper connection with yourself, others and life.

My next chapter was, in many ways, about finding my way into the mainstream. I married young, worked in recruitment and later as a consultant in operational risk and crisis management. At 25 I became a mother. A demanding marriage came to an end, and I faced a new choice: midwife or psychologist. It became the psychology programme in Uppsala, where I revelled in acquiring theoretical knowledge and gaining new perspectives on many of the processes and experiences I had met earlier in life.

This knowledge gave me a new platform and a kind of security. I worked as a psychologist in occupational health care before starting my own practice in 2013, and then deepened my work in organisation and leadership, both through further training and through increasingly challenging assignments.

But a few years later a personal life crisis brought me back to questions I thought I had already answered. The answers were not primarily to be found in more cognitive understanding, but in the body and the nervous system, so I returned to the body-oriented and contemplative practices I had encountered early in life. Along the same path I also, in time, encountered psychedelic experiences, which opened layers of myself and of life that I had not been in touch with before, and that have become deeply meaningful to me.

That journey led me on to NARM, a trauma therapy model I first met as a client and later trained in. For some years now I have also facilitated psilocybin retreats in the Netherlands, where it is legal, in collaboration with Nysnö. I have also completed a year-long deepening in trauma-informed group facilitation.

My work has thus unfolded along the same lines as the rest of my life: between structure and flow, between the measurable and what cannot be measured, between the demands of organisations and people's inner reality.

For me, organisations and the inner life are not separate arenas. An organisation is one of the places where our inner world meets an outer reality that makes demands – and it is in that very friction that the possibility of development often lies. That is why I still enjoy working with a management team as much as meeting a couple or being present at a ceremony. The same human phenomenon, in different clothing. I meet each context on its own terms. What carries through all these rooms is not a method, but a way of being present.

I have moved both outside the mainstream and right in the middle of it. These days I feel most at home on the bridge between them – between feeling and reason, body and mind, transcendence and empiricism.

The longer I work and the more knowledge I gain, the less interested I become in offering ready-made answers. Instead, through presence, curiosity and at times challenge, I want to help create spaces where people can come into deeper contact with themselves and each other. Spaces where more of who we are is given room – more truth, more love – and, through that, more lifeforce and vitality in our lives, relationships and organisations.

For many years my life ran on parallel tracks. A good education and a relatively successful career. A Master of Arts in language technology from Uppsala University, student life and good friends. But alcohol and drugs were often part of the weekends, and until my early thirties I belonged to the leadership of a football-related subculture marked by loyalty and belonging. That brotherhood became the family I never had growing up, and I was willing to pay a high price to belong. In the end I chose to step away – but by then it had already taken its toll and had major consequences. In a later chapter of life I built up my own business as an IT consultant – with audit assignments in the public sector and several development teams I had started and successfully led. But intoxication and drug use continued to be part of my lifestyle, and I often wondered why I couldn't stop – why not even parenthood made me break the pattern: the unhealthy behaviours and the ongoing betrayal of myself and those closest to me. I was a mystery to myself, a riddle before which I stood completely without answers. What was wrong with me, and who could help me?

For a long time I fumbled for tools and for an understanding of why I felt and acted as I did. I carried a longing for a mentor – someone outside myself who could guide me and dissolve what felt so confusing, complex and painful. I tried ordinary talk therapy and CBT, and also tried other forms of therapy and less conventional methods – but without reaching any lasting results. The mystery remained, and I often felt helpless and without answers.

The answers I had sought for so long finally began to take shape when I found NARM. In therapy and my own work I slowly, and in relationship, began to explore how what I carry with me from my early years shapes my experience of reality here and now – and to meet and transform my old survival strategies: shutting down, difficulty in close relationships, the feeling that life ”just happens to me” and of standing to one side.

When I catch sight of those patterns and let go of the old identifications and images of who I ought to be, I discover more and more of who I actually am. To dare to hope, to feel deeply and to come into connection with my heart. To understand that I have the right to exist even when I say no. To build a more robust sense of who I am – and to meet what was there all along: that everything is really okay. That I am okay and always have been. The goal was there from the start – to ”come home” is simply to peel away what was laid on top. And there the old questions begin to find their answers – not as a final key, but as an exploration that is still ongoing: that there was never anything wrong with me, and that the one I was looking for, for help and guidance, is myself. My calling is to break the line of the generational trauma that runs through my family.

It is from this lived experience that I meet you.