the truth about doing sessions

this shit is hard?

special thanks to Esther who contributed to many of the realizations shared in this essay. thank you for holding space for my emotional process and sharing your valuable 3/6 wisdom.

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In September 2021, I announced to my small following that I was now offering Human Design sessions. After being let go from my last job as a freelancer in the midst of what would become a fourth-month lockdown in Sydney, I said to myself, enough waiting in the void – I’m going to put my shingle out and see what happens. I was about two years into my experiment, but less than a year of being a “radical” Projector.

I could analyze this decision from countless angles – whether it was correct or incorrect, whether I had an invitation  to start offering sessions or not – but it would drive me mad. It already has. I don’t know if there is any way to determine whether something is “correct” or “incorrect” other than by assessing the outcome it produces: whether you’re meeting resistance (or not). And then… consider being a third line profile. Arguably, I will always bang into things that don’t work; there will always be some level of “resistance.” But I have to try this resistance on for size first. It’s the only way I learn.

Over the course of the last two years, I have done – maybe – about 15 paid sessions. My mind was pissed as hell when, after I launched my website and offerings, nobody was booking. It took over a month to be paid for my first session. Then, a couple of bookings would come in every few months. Just one or two, and then nothing for a long while. Only in retrospect can I say I am grateful I did not find instant success. I know it probably would have fucked me up had I blown up like some people I was observing online.

Some of these sessions went well. They had a flow to them, a symbiosis, a mutual understanding and recognition of the other; there was a clear fractal connection. And some of these sessions went… not-so-well. I bombed. I was in weird head spaces. There was no flow. I should have canceled because my emotional wave was on a downhill slope. My mind was frustrated that the session seemed to be going very differently than the way I’d hoped it would. My mind would be annoyed at the tangible heaviness it perceived in the session, like I was anticipating the disappointment my client would feel when it was over. I was convinced I wasn’t delivering what they expected of me.

Let’s be real, no choice applies to sessions just as it does to anything else. The person booking often has no idea why they *really* booked with you. Their mind might think it does, but their body shows up for reasons unbeknownst to everyone involved. It might be for one sentence you will share with them. It might be to confirm one thing they knew but could never understand. It could be to sow doubt into a strong mental belief they hold that is obstructing their ability to see.

If you are living as yourself — if you are “correct” (although I refrain from using that word because it can induce feelings of shame) — then whatever comes out of that is simply what happens, and what happens is correct, regardless if the session went “good” or “bad.” And yet! I would be lying if I said there isn’t always room for improvement and development. Not in the ego sense of thinking “I need to be a better person,” but in seeing, in my case, where the session went wrong. Because I know when something is off. When there is a disconnect between me, my mind, the experience, and the person in front of me.

When I first started giving readings, the people around me urged me to charge at least $200 for my sessions: “You’re a Quad-Right Projector, you’re priceless.” Whilst it’s very nice to be told these things and it usually gave me a confidence boost, ultimately, it harmed me. It harmed me as a third line to expect myself to be good at something right off the bat. I have rarely been objectively good at something the first time I tried it. My first attempts commonly ended in frustration and wanting to quit because I had “failed.” When I began doing readings, I had already offered a handful for free before asking to be paid. But even then, in no way did I have the experience (or confidence) to back up what I was charging. Even as a defined ego.

I love talking about money because nobody is willing to be transparent around it. Money is energy. It is compensation for your time, expertise, focus, intelligence, and experience. It is given on the premise that an exchange of value is taking place between two parties. 

Over the last several years in the coaching industry, there has been a huge emphasis on “charging what you’re worth.” But how do you know what you’re worth? It’s the wild-wild-west out here. There is no governing body. There are no rules or regulations in this industry. Anyone can put up a sign and tell you they have great guidance to offer. It doesn’t mean it’s true.

Money is a bargain. It contains the expectation that you will deliver something of value to the other when you receive it. How that value is measured is subjective. If someone is in high enough demand and has a superb reputation because they *know their shit,* then sure, perhaps they can get away with charging $600 for a session. Maybe they have the balls to do that with no internal qualms and their clients accept their terms, no questions asked. But I think you have to cultivate that kind of confidence. And I don’t think it happens overnight.

Maybe if you’re a second line natural this isn’t the case for you. Maybe you’re good at offering sessions straight away, maybe holding that space comes effortlessly to you. Or maybe you’re a first line, have been studying this system for years and years and know you have a solid foundation to deliver, so you feel at ease beginning at a high rate. But as a third line who is designed to fuck up, this has not been my experience. I am still figuring out whether this is for me; refining, iterating, and bumping into obstacles, developing my awareness around what goes and what doesn’t – for the other and for me. I still sway back and forth on whether I am designed to do this at all, whether I even enjoy it. Maybe I have to keep going until there is no question that this isn’t for me. Like running into the fire in a relationship again and again — breaking and remaking the bond — until I’m like, okay I fucking get it now, thanks dude, peace out.

I’ve held a few sessions during which I knew in my bones they were not going well. And I feel like I’m not supposed to talk about it; all I see on Instagram are people posting raving reviews from clients about their sessions, and I’m like… okay, but isn’t anyone else struggling? Isn’t anyone admitting this shit is hard? Is it just me? Why isn’t anyone owning up to the fact that sometimes, you doubt yourself, that meeting with strangers online is terrifying and can go wrong? Like, so wrong that you leave the session feeling like, wow, I cannot believe I charged someone for this. I need to go back to the drawing board. And whilst I understand imposter syndrome is a common experience, I also think we can acknowledge when these feelings could be a signpost that something needs to be adjusted. 

Maybe, as a 3/5, I am required to experience these “bad” sessions to discover what doesn’t work. Maybe my life is about continually banging into things that don’t work and living to tell the tale. Over the years, the sessions that have not gone well have taught me the most. I don’t learn anything from things that go the way they’re “supposed to.” I think the adage no pain, no gain is true for third lines. The more painful an experience, the deeper the lessons and awareness that arise out of it, and the more likely you will learn from it and go about it differently the next time.

I’ve always been hard on myself. And I’ve been told by others my whole life to stop being so hard on myself. And to an extent, it’s true – when it’s self-inflicted punishment for certain *perceived* mistakes, all it does is create more shame.

However, perhaps the reason that third line personalities are hard on themselves is because they can consciously witness their shortcomings. Perhaps this is a necessary tool for our process. 

When I  seek advice from others after I’ve held a  “bad” session, I am usually told, “It’s the other person’s fault. They projected onto you. They didn’t know what they were coming for. I know you did a great job and they got exactly what they needed.” Well, that’s nice to hear. Everyone loves a personal cheer squad. But it’s not always grounded in realism. The third line is realistic by nature — it’s what keeps us sane. Maybe, instead of being told I was perfect and did nothing wrong, I need to be invited to explore the experience to discover what could have gone better, and what can be adjusted in the future.

This is a tightrope to walk for the mind. To be honest and realistic with yourself, or to have someone reflect that back to you without spiraling into thinking something is wrong with you. The problem is not you: the problem is when you think the problem is you. The actual problem you’re dealing with here is with the thing or experience itself. When a third line breaks something, they are finding the inherent flaws within that thing, discovering what cannot hold up in the face of mutation. This. Is. Our. Process. Shit will break. Experiences will go wrong. And this is when the mind has to be trained to get excited when it finds out what doesn't work. Because we will find out, one way or another!

It is very easy to take Human Design information and create new mentally imposed constructs of who you *think* you’re supposed to be or what you’re here to do. Projectors are constantly told in this space that “guiding is our birthright;” we’re led to believe we’re excellent one-on-one consultants with no training or experience. But… I beg to differ. Just because you’re a Projector, doesn’t mean you’re entitled to do sessions. It doesn’t mean you’re better at doing sessions than any other Type or that you deserve a free pass. I don’t think Projectors are good at this straight out of the box, with zero experience. I think we grow into being a Projector. We’re here to master systems and that takes a long time. 

Of course, guidance happens naturally in our one-on-one relationships because our aura is focused on the other. But when it comes to being paid for it – well, this comes down to Strategy and Authority. If something is correct for you, the resources will be provided, whether that’s in the form of money or not.

I’ve been seeing a huge focus on Projectors needing to be paid for every ounce of guidance they provide. Like anything a Projector says should be immortalized, framed, and hung in a museum. I don’t believe this. I believe dealing with bitterness is our own responsibility, showing us where an interaction or relationship might need to be re-evaluated. Bitterness shows up when we have been ignoring our authority. I have felt the most success in my closest Generator relationships where I have guided them through their own process of awareness. I wasn’t paid for it, and I didn’t care.

Now, circling back to money and being paid for sessions, it would have been easier on me psychologically if I had started at a much lower price. Those who do professional analyst training (through IHDS or another institution) do hundreds of practice readings before they are confident enough – and objectively qualified – to charge a professional rate. While I have heard advice from others in this space to begin with lower rates, it seems I had to learn this the hard way – through experience, the only way there is for us martyrs. I went in with a money first attitude instead of an experience first mindset. Yet I never even needed the money: doing sessions has never been the basis of my survival. I was conditioned by others to believe I had to charge a certain amount because that’s the standard and “I was worth it,” even though, supposedly, we're here to be differentiated and, thus, charge what we feel comfortable receiving – what is “correct” for us.

The truth is, I need to be able to discover the things that don’t work in sessions without the pressure of money and expectation. I would rather over-deliver and feel really good about what I provided than to under-deliver and feel uncomfortable with being paid more for it. And this is, of course, something that changes over time. Money and pricing are continually reevaluated as you continue to grow and expand as a person, as a practitioner, as a guide. Only through trial and error can I begin to fine-tune my own process, and find out what I can deliver and what I can’t. I think that’s been the crux of my journey in offering sessions as someone who is a Quad-Right and third line. I still don’t know what exactly it is that I can deliver to the other. This makes it hard to communicate what people are paying for when they book with me and ultimately, sets everyone up for disappointment.  

What I know so far is: I am not a great chart reader (though who’s to say this can’t be developed with more practice). I am not that Human Design expert who can strategically go through every nuance of your chart on a strategic and detailed level. My receptive mind needs to be pulled from. I function best with questions. And yet, I am still gathering experiential data as to how this works best both for myself and the client who booked with me.    

This is an inherently messy process. It’s vulnerable and non-linear. As a third line, I need to give myself the grace to build myself up through experience first rather than expecting myself to be perfect straight away. That’s okay. It’s okay to be bad at something the first time you try it. It’s okay if it takes you a bit – or even a lot – longer to develop a skill than whoever your mind is comparing yourself to. It’s okay to make mistakes, which are often not true “mistakes:” just opportunities to grow.

I am lowering my prices until it feels right to increase them. Instead of giving up and quitting because an experience didn’t turn out the way my mind wanted it to, I will keep going until I know this is a dead end. Maybe it won’t take long. Maybe I will bump into something completely different that changes my trajectory, something that has nothing to do with making money with Human Design. I don’t know. But I’m prepared to walk the path of not knowing. It’s the only way I can validate what’s true for myself.