Member since October 2026
Jess Paré is a coach, best-selling author, and speaker who helps women navigate career & life transitions, clarify what’s next, and build lives and work that align with their values. Jess works mainly one-on-one but she also offers in-person and virtual workshops and keynotes on topics related to healing from burnout, finding work that fits who you really are, and designing a life that feels good to live in. Jess has 20+ years of experience in many sectors, including higher education, nonprofit, government, and corporate. Jess brings a grounded, compassionate approach to her coaching which incorporates nervous system awareness, mindfulness, play, and practical tools and strategies.
What puts a smile on my face? Watching someone realize that the life they've been told they're supposed to want isn't necessarily the life they have to live.
I love those moments when something clicks, when someone starts questioning an old assumption, sees a possibility they hadn't considered, or gives themselves permission to want something different.
I'm passionate about helping people reconnect with themselves, each other, and the world around them. I believe we're capable of creating lives, workplaces, and communities that are more humane, connected, and joyful than the ones we've inherited. And I love bringing people together to explore what that could look like.
I'm also a big believer that transformation doesn't have to be all hard work. Play, laughter, curiosity, and a little irreverence are some of my favorite tools for opening minds and creating change.
I'll tell you about the day I realized I was in crisis.
I was sitting at my desk trying to get through another work day when a single word started blaring in my head like an alarm: "CRISIS. CRISIS. CRISIS."
I'd spent years studying mindfulness, self-awareness, and well-being. I knew all about the importance of listening to my body, honoring my needs, and recognizing the signs of stress. And yet, somehow, I'd ended up here.
The most unsettling part wasn't that I didn't know what was wrong. It was that some part of me knew exactly what was wrong, and I'd gotten so practiced at pushing through that I hadn't been willing to listen.
That moment became a turning point in my relationship with myself. It taught me that self-awareness alone isn't enough. We also need the courage, self-trust, and support to act on what we know even when doing so means disrupting the lives we've carefully constructed.
And sometimes, if we don't listen to the whispers, our bodies find a way to scream.
For a long time, I was very good at being good.
I built the early part of my career around being helpful, responsible, and of service, working in nonprofits and higher education with a focus on social justice. I genuinely cared about that work.
But underneath it was something I couldn't see yet: I'd learned to pay very close attention to what other people needed, wanted, and expected of me—and much less attention to myself.
What did I want? What gave me energy? What kind of work and life actually fit me?
I wasn't very practiced at asking those questions.
A divorce and a toxic nonprofit job kicked off a period of self-discovery in my 30s that became nearly a decade of transition. I moved eight times in seven years. I changed careers four times. I started businesses and closed them. I experimented with different ways of working, living, and being.
Along the way, I became a student of change—and of myself.
I learned from coaches, somatic practitioners, positive psychologists, Buddhist monks, shamans, and spiritual teachers. I studied mindfulness, nervous-system regulation, human behavior, strengths, and well-being. And I learned just as much from my body, my emotions, nature, relationships, and the things that didn't work.
Slowly, I got better at noticing what gave me energy and what depleted it. What I actually enjoyed versus what I thought I should enjoy. What I wanted versus what I'd been taught to want.
And then, after all that growth, I burned out.
That experience brought the lesson home in a way nothing else had: it's not enough to know ourselves. We have to build lives that honor what we know.
Looking back, I can see that all those years of searching were teaching me the same thing: how to hear myself more clearly, accept what I found, and trust myself enough to act on it.
That's the foundation of the work I do today.
I'll tell you about the day I realized I was in crisis.
I was sitting at my desk trying to get through another work day when a single word started blaring in my head like an alarm: "CRISIS. CRISIS. CRISIS."
I'd spent years studying mindfulness, self-awareness, and well-being. I knew all about the importance of listening to my body, honoring my needs, and recognizing the signs of stress. And yet, somehow, I'd ended up here.
The most unsettling part wasn't that I didn't know what was wrong. It was that some part of me knew exactly what was wrong, and I'd gotten so practiced at pushing through that I hadn't been willing to listen.
That moment became a turning point in my relationship with myself. It taught me that self-awareness alone isn't enough. We also need the courage, self-trust, and support to act on what we know even when doing so means disrupting the lives we've carefully constructed.
And sometimes, if we don't listen to the whispers, our bodies find a way to scream.
For a long time, I was very good at being good.
I built the early part of my career around being helpful, responsible, and of service, working in nonprofits and higher education with a focus on social justice. I genuinely cared about that work.
But underneath it was something I couldn't see yet: I'd learned to pay very close attention to what other people needed, wanted, and expected of me—and much less attention to myself.
What did I want? What gave me energy? What kind of work and life actually fit me?
I wasn't very practiced at asking those questions.
A divorce and a toxic nonprofit job kicked off a period of self-discovery in my 30s that became nearly a decade of transition. I moved eight times in seven years. I changed careers four times. I started businesses and closed them. I experimented with different ways of working, living, and being.
Along the way, I became a student of change—and of myself.
I learned from coaches, somatic practitioners, positive psychologists, Buddhist monks, shamans, and spiritual teachers. I studied mindfulness, nervous-system regulation, human behavior, strengths, and well-being. And I learned just as much from my body, my emotions, nature, relationships, and the things that didn't work.
Slowly, I got better at noticing what gave me energy and what depleted it. What I actually enjoyed versus what I thought I should enjoy. What I wanted versus what I'd been taught to want.
And then, after all that growth, I burned out.
That experience brought the lesson home in a way nothing else had: it's not enough to know ourselves. We have to build lives that honor what we know.
Looking back, I can see that all those years of searching were teaching me the same thing: how to hear myself more clearly, accept what I found, and trust myself enough to act on it.
That's the foundation of the work I do today.