Look around. You’ve got everything you thought you wanted. And you worked hard to get it.
Nothing fell in your lap. Nothing came easy. You traded sleep to meet deadlines. Warm meals for a granola bar as you ran out the door. Vacations for work-cations. And the people you love for, “Just one second, I’m almost done with this email.”
But now, as you lie awake at 2 am staring at the ceiling, you realize… you resent nearly all of it. And what you don’t, you feel guilty for neglecting.
Is this it?
Sometimes you answer that question by booking a massage or squirreling away a little “me time” with a good book and a glass of wine.
But every time you do, you can’t enjoy the massage because your mind won’t stop.
You can’t get more than one page in before you realize you’ve reread the last paragraph five times and still don’t know what it says.
Even a hot bath with candles and Epsom salt only lasts until you walk out the bathroom door and realize everything you were avoiding is still waiting there for you.
So you push it down. Convince yourself you're trusting the process… the timing… that a shift would come on its own.
The waiting turned into months. And then years.
None of this is your fault. Everything you tried made sense. It just didn’t reach the thing underneath.
It was early 2020 and I wasn’t sure how much more I could take. How much longer I could hold it all together… Or that I was even willing to anymore.
I remember everything about that day. It was cold and grey. Outside everything was still and quiet. But inside, I was screaming something I never let myself express before.
“If nothing changes, I’m not sure I want to continue.”
It wasn’t a crisis or an outwardly dramatic moment. To anyone who saw me that day, they never would have known my life was changing.
At that moment, I realized I’d been carrying this quiet distance from my own life for years. And I’d gotten so good at pretending everything was fine, that I nearly had myself convinced it was.
So I started naming things. Out loud.
I don’t want this job. I don’t want this routine. And I don’t want the disconnect from the real me.
And contrary to everything I’d ever learned about “negative talk”...
The naming didn’t make things worse. It made things clear.
In the weeks that followed, life began to shift. Books found me. Ideas came. The world made space — and in that space, I started hearing something I hadn’t been able to hear in years.
“If nothing changes, I’m not sure I want to continue.”
Myself.
I’m Ingjerd Jensen. I’ve moved across the world — New York, England, Africa — looking for a life that felt like mine.
What I eventually found is that I kept bringing the same version of myself with me. The one who was running from the question.
The question of what I actually wanted.
That walk by the river was the first time I stopped running and looked the real me dead in the face.
Why I do this work.
I became a coach because of what I felt on that walk. And because of what I’ve seen happen when someone else gets to feel it, too.
There’s a moment in the work I do with women when something shifts. I can see it before they can name it. It’s a kind of opening. Like they’ve been holding their breath for a long time and just remembered they’re allowed to exhale.
I know that moment better than most because for years, I lived it.
I was convinced everyone else was the problem. I created drama I couldn’t see I was creating, chased approval like it was oxygen, called myself a victim when people couldn’t give me what I was looking for.
The shift didn’t come from someone else saving me. It came from being honest enough to see my own part in it.
That’s why I don’t want my clients to need me forever. I want to walk beside them long enough that they find their own footing.
That is the work. Opening the door… and standing there while you walk through it yourself.
The discovery call is where you say it out loud for the first time.
You bring what you've been carrying. I bring what I see. We find out together if this is where it starts.