I've started wondering if that's true. Because I'm not sure people lose themselves. Sometimes I think they've simply listened to everyone else for too long. Maybe you haven't lost yourself. Maybe it's just become difficult to hear what is actually yours.
What I do, if I try to say it simply, is help people distinguish between what is truly theirs and what they have carried so long that they've begun to believe it is them.
Maybe some of this feels familiar.
And perhaps the hardest one:
You're afraid you already know the answer.
That you don't really lack insight.
You just don't know what to do with it.
I've started wondering if we misunderstand what happens during these periods.
Because sometimes things start blending together.
Fear starts sounding like responsibility.
You think:
But if you stop for a moment, the real question might be:
Is this responsibility?
Or am I afraid?
The two can sound surprisingly alike when we have lived with the fear long enough.
Guilt starts sounding like love.
And eventually we start believing it is love.
Sometimes it is.
Other times, it is guilt sitting in the driver's seat.
Love says: "I care about you."
Guilt says: "I am responsible for how you feel."
It is not the same.
Adaptation starts sounding like identity.
This one is perhaps the hardest to notice.
Because after many years, we begin to say:
But sometimes we aren't describing who we are.
We're describing who we had to become.
A strategy that worked so long it began to feel like a personality.
And eventually it becomes difficult to know what is actually yours.
That's the part that interests me.
Not how we become someone new.
But how we distinguish between what is actually ours, and what we have carried so long that we've begun to believe it is us.
When something stops working, we often assume we've gone from order into chaos.
That something is wrong.
That we've lost our way.
That we need to find our way back to who we were.
I'm not so sure.
The older I get, the less I believe people are as chaotic as they seem.
Again and again, I notice the same thing:
What looks like chaos often has a structure.
But beneath the stories, there is often something that recurs.
A pattern that becomes difficult to see when you're standing inside it.
That's the part that interests me.
Not how we fix people.
But how we see more clearly.
The interesting thing is that when we see a little more clearly, something often happens on its own.
And slowly, almost without noticing, they begin to trust their own orientation again.
I probably won't tell you who you are.
But I can help you hear yourself a little more clearly.
I've spent most of my adult life exploring the same question.
Just in different disguises.
How does a human being actually work?
That question has taken me through psychology, ADHD, neuroscience, mythology, motherhood, coaching and AI.
From the outside, it looks like many different interests.
To me, they've always been part of the same conversation.
How do we find what is actually true for us when the world is full of voices telling us who we should be?
My grandmother used to say:
"Be kind to Toini."
I think she was trying to teach me something long before I knew I would need it.
The longest relationship you will ever have is the one you have with yourself.
And more often than not, that's the relationship that spills into everything else.
I've been noticing something.
People often come and say they're confused.
I'm not always sure they are.
Most of them have been thinking for a long time. A very long time.
Sometimes I think the problem is that they're standing so close to their own lives that everything starts to look a little alike.
And when everything inside you starts sounding the same, it becomes hard to make good choices.
I've actually started wondering whether confusion is always confusion.
I think some of us know more than we like to admit.
The hardest part is perhaps not finding the answer. The hardest part is perhaps living with it once it shows up.
That's often where the work begins.
Not with more answers.
But with separating what has gotten mixed up.
Maybe this isn't about finding your way back to who you were.
Maybe it's about stopping the habit of living as an edited version of yourself.
You don't need to know exactly what the problem is.
That's often why we begin with a Clarity Session.
We look at it together.
Not to make life perfect.
But so that you don't have to keep going in circles alone.
You may not walk away with a finished answer.
But you walk away with a clearer map of what is going on.
I probably won't tell you who you are.
That sounds exhausting for both of us.
But I can help you hear yourself a little more clearly.
Start with a Clarity Session75 minutes · Online or Oslo · 3,900 NOK
A private conversation where we look at what is actually going on in your life now, what pattern recurs, and what might be the right direction forward. Not a free discovery call. A real mapping.
You fill in a short intake form before booking. We use the hour to understand where you stand, what keeps repeating, and what might be the right next step.
If we continue in a private arc together, the fee is deducted from the package price.
Some clients need an extended mapping phase if there's a lot to sort through, or if you haven't spoken with anyone properly in a long time. If so, I'll say it clearly, and we'll arrange an additional session before choosing the right arc.
One conversation can make you feel lighter. An arc helps you live differently.
It's normal to need to put everything on the table first — especially if you've carried too much alone for too long. An hour of breath and pause can offer real relief. But relief is not the same as integration.
A structured arc gives the work time to meaningfully meet your daily life. We get to see what actually repeats, what it protects, what it costs, and what needs to shift in concrete choices, habits and structures.
The research points in the same direction as the experience: ADHD coaching and work with women in transition usually need continuity across several sessions. Not because more is better, but because it takes time for a new pattern to feel real in the body.
Not all work needs the same form. We choose the right map, not the longest possible arc.
The notebook isn't a bonus. It's where the work has somewhere to land between sessions.
Reflection prompts, anchor points, values, patterns, body, boundaries, joy and direction. An active space between sessions — not homework, but somewhere what we speak about has room to become your own.
Shaped quite differently. Less writing, more structure. Session summaries, what we saw, what you're trying now, and where to find your way back to the thread when daily life gets blurry again. External memory, not homework.
After booking, you'll receive a code to Saltbloom to order the right notebook. It is included in the package price.
Referred for support through perimenopause, HRT or hormonal transitions.
Read more →Referred after ADHD assessment or diagnosis. Structured follow-up.
Read more →If you don't know which path is right, start with a mapping conversation.
Book now →I've spent most of my adult life on the same question.
How does a human being actually work?
It might sound a little strange. But the older I get, the more I think that almost everything I've been interested in has really been a version of that one question.
It has taken me through psychology, ADHD, neuroscience, myths, relationships, motherhood, coaching, writing and AI.
From the outside, it probably looks like many different interests.
To me, it has always been the same conversation.
I don't actually think people are as chaotic as we seem.
Again and again, I notice the same thing.
What looks like chaos often has a structure.
What looks like a problem isn't always the problem.
And what looks like confusion isn't always confusion either.
Most of the people who come to me have been thinking for a long time before they arrive.
Read the books. Listened to the podcasts. Talked to their friends. Maybe done some therapy.
The problem is rarely that they lack insight.
Often they're just standing so close to their own lives that it's hard to see the pattern.
That's the part that interests me.
Not how we fix people.
But how we see more clearly.
My grandmother used to say:
"Be kind to Toini."
I think she was trying to teach me something long before I understood why it mattered.
Because the longest relationship you will ever have is the one you have with yourself.
And more often than not, that's the one that spills into everything else.
I hope you leave here feeling a little more alive.
A little more curious about your own life.
A little more willing to trust what you already know.
Maybe a little braver than when you arrived.
And a little more at home in your own skin.
Writing on patterns, regulation, neurodivergence, women in transition, and becoming someone who actually fits in her own life.