The journey from the beginning to the starting point

Ten years ago, on the tail end of stumbling through my own life-altering challenge, I was unsuccessful in my search in the uncharted waters of the internet for someone who could give me answers along the way.

I couldn't help but ask the question: How can you digitize the unique power that lies in listening to another human being with lived experience and at the same time make it available to everyone in one place?

The journey from the beginning to the starting point

When we are faced with challenges or crises that “deprive” us of identities that we have created throughout our lives, we can feel lost in a labyrinth of meaninglessness. This is because these identities are often shaped by the life we ​​have lived as much as they are part of our coping strategies, because they are the core of our lived experience.

Who are we if we cannot use one of the safe “masks” that are ready on the nightstand in the morning? Are we comfortable just being as we are when we stand in front of another human being?

My own life experiences

I was 28 years old, and after six years as a “shipping talent,” I was living the opportunity I had been working for - expat life in Singapore. I packed my whole life in 4 suitcases to start this adventure, and after 6 months, I had overcome the first phase of getting used to a new culture. I was ready to shine. Two days into my second term, after Christmas holiday at home in Norway, I was sitting in the hospital, staring at the white walls with a stack of papers in my hand from the search for what was causing the shooting pains from my back and out into my leg.

I had a “herniated disc” that was shattered and now disturbed my nerves, so I needed surgery. “You can't play sports again,” said the chief surgeon, and I realized that my shipping career would also be at risk. The message was devastating.

Who am I if I’m not the “athlete” or the “shipping talent”?

Ever since I survived a suicidal week in the darkness of loneliness at the age of 13, I had used sports as my most important arena to fit in and feel valued. In the sports field, I could control the rules of the game: If I performed and worked hard, I was chosen. Simple! That attitude turned my life upside down and took me from being the “strange one” in the village to a good student and promising football player with the world as my adventure to explore. The hunger to show those who had not recognized me that I was good enough drove me to fill the hole inside with achievements, both at school and on the sports field. This fueled the effort that led me to being hired by a leading shipping company at the age of 21, after only one year in school. With my ADHD batteries, I continued playing football and started coaching a youth team on top of part-time studies “to ensure” that free time would be something I could enjoy when I retired.

That's the backdrop of why I was sitting there, 28 years old and without a clue about who I was, when my two performance-based masks were taken away with a “bang.” The experience can best be described as getting lost in “the labyrinth of independence,” which I had worked so hard to create in order to be successful in society's turn towards “hyperindividualism.” When I tried to “open the door” to show a glimpse of vulnerability, I was met by my surroundings with the same motivational tone that I showed myself on a good day. “You can do this, you have been through so much, you are stronger than most people I know.” Just the thought of having to sacrifice another mask of being the one who overcame everything scared me back into silence. The paradox is that I have never had a greater need to be heard but at the same time, never been further away from opening up than in the moment when I sat alone in my apartment in Singapore.

The need for change and deep soul work

For the second time, my motivation for life disappeared, and I realized that I had to make changes (although the honest answer is that it took me months). The physical part of the recovery was clear-cut to me, regardless if it required 1-2 training sessions per day + 3-5 treatments a week for the first year. I was used to living like an athlete, but it was my inner drive that required change to be able to recover before I got completely lost in my labyrinth. I realized that I needed to search deeper inside to connect with what gave me value as a human being before my chase for performance took over again. I delved into my own history and followed advice to write down all my large life choices and note what other alternatives I had at that crossroad, in addition to exploring my values through a few surveys online. Analyzing my choices, I realized that at every intersection I had chosen the most “difficult” path, but why? Was it because I wanted my biological father and two grandfathers that had rejected me on different occasions during my life to recognize me? Was it to show my bullies or those that did not give me space that I was more valuable than they thought? Or was it to regain my mothers love after her illness and our falling-out in my teens? The answer to that wasn’t necessary; I realized that my need for being “good enough” in the eyes of others was just as much my superpower as it was my kryptonite. Because it drove me forward when I wanted to give up, but it also subconsciously controlled me at every life choice.

There is nothing wrong with wanting a challenge and choosing the most difficult path, but it should be your choice, and then, you can use it as a superpower when needed.

In that process, I realized that I had always been motivated by the more caring professions, but with focus on the larger picture. I needed a career that connected with my prosocial motivation. Shipping was replaced with 18 months of rehabilitation and completion of studies in leadership and rhetoric. The next step was Doctors Without Borders (MSF) and a mission to Afghanistan, to give my life needed meaning (or did I need new masks to cover my emotional wounds? Hard to say).

Challenging my narratives

Afghanistan was exactly the challenge I needed, both professionally, emotionally and on a human level. Subconscious narratives that were already at wobbly ground got shocked, such as “good vs evil” and “old-fashioned vs modern,” and I was able to expand my view of the world with a broader perspective. I had been privileged enough to see many corners of the world prior to Afghanistan, but I had never lived in the heart of global politics, experiencing human suffering that close. I was primed with colonial Hollywood and media narratives of this part of the world being filled with conservative and religiously bound beliefs limiting people's freedom, but also that less “developed” populations drive the same conservatism and violence. I was facing what I see as the hardest part of the human experience, that our oppressing narratives are often constructed on some “truth”. I experienced both violent attacks and conservatism, just as much as I experienced deeply connected people, kindness, respect, beautiful landscapes, ancient knowledge, curiosity towards other ideas and the power of community, despite me representing the part of the world that many locals hold accountable for most of their “Mushkil” (problems in the Dari language). My experience was that I was more accepted and appreciated for my human attributes than at home.

What truly changed the course of my life was another life crisis during the bombing of our hospital in Kunduz, where we lost 43 people, resulting in MSF accusing the US of war crimes. In the wake of an extremely challenging and sorrowful time, we were visited by a crisis team of experienced psychologists and professionals. Despite the sorrow, I listened like an eager student, because I was finally going to learn more about how to process emotional challenges and get the tools I was missing. They reminded us of the importance of talking to each other, being vulnerable with each other, letting our feelings come and exploring them, in addition to teaching us more about PTSD. When the crisis team left, I sat there hopeful, believing that we would all make use of our new tools, but to my surprise, I experienced that “none” of us did. Instead, we all retreated into our part of “the labyrinth of independence.” I thought I was the only one that handled things this way, but I quickly realized that this is how most of us face challenges.