Hi there, I’m Murphy Jensen. I’m so happy you made it here to the WEconnect blog. In my previous life, I was a professional tennis player and French Open champion. Alongside my brother Luke, I enjoyed a thriving tennis career through the 1990’s.
But my story really starts on a Christmas tree farm in Northern Michigan where I grew up. My parents were both educators; my dad was a professional football player who later became a high school tennis coach. He built a tennis court in our backyard, which led to my brother and me, alongside my sisters, playing tennis and eventually winning some tournaments. It was a loving house and an athletic house, but also an alcoholic house. Dad suffered from alcohol use disorder, and when I was around 9 or 10, he went away for 30 days. When he came back, he never drank again—but before that, it could be a scary environment to grow up in. It’s important to say this because it’s part of who I am, where I came from, and where I’m at today. Had he not found the rooms of recovery or his own recovery path, no tennis career would have been possible for me or anyone else in the family. When my dad came back from his 30-day treatment, family security came back with him—along with approval, affection, and stability. Dad showed up for us, posting up at tennis games and giving me the love I desperately needed. Dad was now present, and he taught me the lessons I needed to learn and shaped me to become the man I am today.
In 1987, I earned a tennis scholarship to University of Southern California, which was where substance use started to creep into my life. In My USC days, I felt so far from home, disconnected from the people that loved me. There were times when I was ashamed to call home. I was experiencing great loneliness and depression about not fitting in or measuring up. I felt like I wasn’t enough, and I started self-medicating to deal with those emotions. Even when my tennis career gained momentum and I turned pro, I still felt a void, like something was missing. After winning the French Open, I remember looking down at my shaking hands in the locker room… what I was seeing in that moment was that my insides didn't match my outsides. In that moment, I was the best in the world at my craft. But inside, I still had those feelings of being less-than, that I wasn’t enough. To escape those feelings, I turned back the clock to my college days, back to drinking and drugs. But things got worse, and eventually I shut the whole world out—family, friends, and anybody who cared about me. This led to a breaking point for me in a hotel room on Sunset strip. But I was lucky, and I’m so grateful that the manager of that hotel called an interventionist instead of the police.
“For me, my recovery has been the journey from my head to my heart.”
Albert Einstein once said “We can't solve problems by using the same kind of thinking we used when we created them.” My recovery journey has been the rewiring of my mindset, perspective, and intentions. On my worst day of active addiction, I didn’t feel loved, didn’t feel worthy, didn’t feel like I was enough. I was unable to be comfortable in my own skin. My head dictated the narrative of what success looked like, love looked like, peace of mind looked like. For me, my recovery has been the journey from my head to my heart. I’m not letting my mind run the show anymore; the most important thing I’ve learned along my recovery path has been to slow down and appreciate the moment—despite the circumstances—and to show gratitude. It doesn’t serve me to beat myself up, and that it’s extremely important to be gentle and kind to myself and others.
The funny thing about being a former professional tennis player and competitive guy in recovery is that I’ve come to realize that the more I surrender, the more I win. I don’t need to be the best, the smartest, the richest; who I am is ok, and that my past does not define me. What I seek most today is to be a good human being, father, brother, husband, friend, and son. Long-term recovery has freed me from the hiding places of my mind—I am enough. It took me 38 years to surrender and realize that.
At WEconnect, we’re not just some faceless tech people coming out of a fancy university. We’re real people—many of whom are in recovery themselves—striving collectively to do important work that helps people for the greater good. We all can use our talents and gifts to do something for other people; for me and my WEconnect co-founder Daniela, that’s personal, and it’s at the heart of everything we do at WEconnect. I understand what it’s like: I came out of a detox, I went through a 28-day program, I went through the hell of addiction and SUD, and I came out on the other side. We know what it’s like to not know what to do next, to not have the answers, and to feel so alone. Had I had something like WEconnect early on, or been exposed to a platform like this when I first discovered that I had a problem, it would have been such a helpful solution. I wouldn’t have felt so alone. It would have given me hope. People call WEconnect a digital health app, but I call it hope in the palm of our hands. It’s so much bigger than any individual at WEconnect: it’s something we all can focus on together, and build a solution for people like me. Instead of focusing on problems, I’m building a great life by living in the solution. I want other people to know that they can build a great life, too. I believe that this is the most important work I have ever done and will ever do.
WEconnect and this blog’s goal is to support people in recovery. This blog is to serve anybody hurting who might benefit from it, whether they’re in recovery or not. It’s for my late dad, who was in recovery himself. He passed away, but his spirit still lives in me, around me, and through me. If you’re reading this, I want you to know that it’s gonna be ok. That was the message my dad shared that resonated with me when I was really hurt, worried, or stressed. In our blog and in everything we do, we want to provide hope. And my wish is that through this blog, WEconnect can be seen by people who need it and want it to inspire them. I also want it to be seen by people who want to learn more about our platform who can give others hope. I’m grateful for you. You are loved, you are lovable, you are worthy, you are worth it, and there’s a bright future for you, so don’t give up. Don’t ever give up.
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