About Ivalu

I know what it's like to lose yourself - and I know the way home 

I grew up as the daughter of two emotionally unavailable parents. In what one would nowadays call a dysfunctional family. I didn't grow up in a home where feelings were named, where safety was steady, or where a child's inner world was guided with care. 

Touch was rare. Comfort was rare - there was never time. And I learned quickly that if I wanted to feel okay, I had to manage that on my own. My parents didn't know how, because no one ever taught them either.

The moments I'm about to share are only a few examples — just glimpses into the hundreds of experiences that have shaped me. 

When I spoke my truth, my father would explode. At a very young age, around six, I intuitively felt that two men we knew very well were intimate. I didn't know about sex or even the word "gay." I just knew they loved each other, and I said it out loud. I had never seen my father rage like that before (though it wouldn't be the last time). I was terrified he would physically harm me and my mother, who was trying to defend my right to feel and speak my truth. He didn't hit us, but his words and his rage scarred me in ways that would follow me for years — in every relationship I was to have, and most painfully, in my relationship to myself and my trust in me.

When I was seven, I was put alone on a plane to Chicago for the summer to visit my grandparents — people I didn't know well at the time. No one asked if I was scared. No one explained how to stay grounded or connected. I just learned to smile, adapt, and hide my fear. Again, I had to hide parts of me in order to fit in. Emotional absence became my normal. 

When I was ten, we moved to Italy. I was obliged to start in the local school without knowing a single word of Italian. On my first day of fifth grade, I cried inside but stayed strong on the outside. For six months, I was blamed for everything that went wrong at school because I didn't have the language to defend myself. I was criticized over and over again. My parents were working, so I spent hours alone, rummaging through the house, wandering the grounds and the small town where we lived — lonely, unseen, and out of place. 

At sixteen, my father shouted in an airport that I was no longer his daughter. Shortly after, he sued me — because I went to his house in Scotland to bring my younger siblings back to Denmark. I had stepped into the role of protector long before I was ready for it. And I stayed there for decades, carrying weight that was never mine to hold. 

And these are just a few moments. A handful out of hundreds. Life kept throwing me into situations that cracked me open, forced me to rebuild, and taught me to keep going — even when I didn't know who I was anymore. 

I juggled it all — running a business, leading at high levels, serving in politics, being a wife and a mother — always believing I had to handle it all. 

I was the one who could handle it all. 

Except… I couldn't. 

After my first child was born, I was back in the shop just five days later. He slept in the back room while I served customers, listened to everyone else's advice, and ignored my own voice. People close to me told me to push through, so I did — even when my body was screaming for rest. I wasn't just judged — I was told I wasn't good enough, that I should be able to handle it, that I should be able to cope. And when I finally tried to help myself and listen to my own needs, I was told that was wrong too. Then the financial crisis hit, and the window to sell my business closed. 

I did crash — three times. But each time I forced myself back up as quickly as possible, never giving myself the time to really feel or make the changes I needed. I pushed through with means and willpower I didn't even know where came from… 

Seven years later, after my second child was born, it all came crashing down again. This time with an unmistakable force. I got sick. Severely stressed. Couldn't sleep. My marriage fell apart. My family fell apart. I had hit the wall — hard — for the fourth time in my life. And this time, I couldn't get back up. 

I was severely ill, and no doctor could help me. I had physical symptoms of depression, but not the mental ones. Still, I was put on the wrong medication — drugs for my mind to cope, even though my mind was fine. The medicine numbed me, turned me into a zombie, and eventually gave me suicidal thoughts. 

That was the moment I decided to take my life back. I stopped the medication. I stopped looking to doctors for answers. I began the long, painful process of learning to listen to myself. 

I had spent years overriding my body, doubting myself, and handing my power over to other people's judgments. I didn't know my own boundaries, so I lived by theirs. I kept waiting for the right time to rest, to heal, to listen — but it never came. 

So I stopped waiting. I chose to unravel. To let go of who I thought I had to be, and slowly, painfully, honestly, return to who I truly am. 

And here's what matters most: I hold no grudge toward my parents, or the situations I've lived through. I know this is my path, and I choose it. It is what it was, and it was what it is. Every single moment has been important in shaping me — in shaping this moment — and in shaping the woman I am today. 

I have walked the walk and talked the talk. I embody all of this and I can hold space for you because of it. Exactly because of my journey, I can hold and support you in yours. I can be in loving service to whatever shows up in you — and nothing will scare me off. I will be there for you. 

This is why I do what I do today. I work with those who have been carrying too much for too long — the leaders, the givers, the sensitive souls who are always there for others but rarely for themselves. The ones who know something has to change, and who are ready to begin. 

I use every skill I've gathered, everything I've lived and learned — somatic work, energy healing, nervous system regulation, life coaching — to meet you exactly where you are. This is deep, personal work. Not surface-level fixes. It's about reclaiming your rhythm, your truth, and your life. 

Because I know what it's like to lose yourself — and I know the way home. 

What I bring into my work: 

Over the years, I've trained in a wide range of modalities — all of which I draw on intuitively in my work. I am a Reiki Master, a De-armouring Practitioner, an Akashic Record Reader, a certified Quantum Master Healer and a Body Code Practitioner. In addition, I've trained in somatic practices, nervous system regulation, trauma-informed coaching, energy healing, breathwork, meditation, and several other therapeutic and holistic methods. 

And before stepping fully into this work, I spent years in other roles — as a shop owner, a software engineer, a senior consultant, a director in two large companies, board member of several organizations, and a politician for eight years. I know the pressure of motherhood, leadership, the exhaustion of holding it all together, and the cost of living disconnected from yourself. These are the tools and experiences I carry — but what truly shapes my work is the path I've walked, and the way I meet you in yours.