When emotional clarity arrives

on writing, quitting sessions, and surrendering to the experiment.

When I started my Instagram account nearly three years ago, I had only one intention: to share my writing.

After going through my first major shattering — yes, it took several years of being in my experiment before my mind had its first real breakthrough — I needed an outlet to process. I needed a space to share my writing, anonymously.

I didn’t think much of it. I followed no one. I enjoyed the creative process of selecting images I resonated with to go with my lengthy captions. The writing flowed out easily too; I think because it wasn’t written with any audience in mind.

Unexpectedly, it gained traction. I started to get attention. I began to receive recognition for my writing, not some university essay or blog article I wrote for somebody else. But for my words, my way of seeing the world. This had never happened to me before.

In 2021, the Human Design community on Instagram still felt exciting and fresh. I had finally found a corner of the internet where people were sharing their experiment and deconditioning journey with candid honesty. This wasn’t the pink fluffy version of Human Design I had first encountered in the manifestation space. But the fucking raw grit of what the deconditioning process really is — learning how to trust the body over the mind, grieving the loss of who you thought you were, letting go of a life you believed was “yours.”

I had no one to talk to about what I was going through. I didn’t know what this was. I thought I knew Human Design before this point but was confronted by the fact my mind was still running the show. Strategy and authority were no longer some elusive concepts applied in certain situations when it suited my mind’s desires. I now understood this was a guiding force to navigate the entire life process, from big decisions to mundane. 

I started my IG account with no agenda attached. I did not expect nor necessarily want people to watch or follow me. I didn’t give a shit about metrics. I didn’t want to get more likes or grow my engagement. I posted my writing because it felt good, and then I left it alone, not caring for others' feedback or comments. It was my selfish corner of the internet. I shared everything first and foremost for myself.

You would think getting external recognition for your creative work is a good thing. After all, isn’t popularity the ultimate marker of “success?” And it’s not like I have a million followers or ever went viral. I am talking about this on an extremely micro level.

I think it’s hard for anyone who begins to get attention online to not lose the purity of their intentions. Getting positive feedback for sharing online makes you want to share more online. The more likes, follows, and recognition you gain, the more likely you will want to capitalize on the attention. The logical thought process becomes — thank you, neoliberalism — how can we monetize this into a lucrative business. And whilst it can be correct for someone to make money off of their online presence, it is not always the case.

When I looked out onto the Human Design community on Instagram, I saw people doing readings and sessions. I saw people being very successful in doing readings and sessions. Naturally, I thought I should also offer readings and sessions. I had just lost my job — or rather, was invited to leave as a Projector — and for the first time in my life I was in a state of full surrender; I wasn’t trying to initiate my way out of it. I had no clue, no plan, no idea what strategy and authority would bring me. I was in the void. I was radically waiting. I was also still in the depths of my first major shattering.

But it scared the shit out of me.

I hated not having an answer to what I was doing for work or money. I hated feeling like I was waiting for something to happen. I hated not knowing the direction my life was heading.

I wanted to fill the empty space desperately.

So, I decided to offer sessions.

***

In retrospect, I think it was obvious all along this wasn’t my path. 

I think it was obvious to everyone around me too.

I remember sharing with a colleague (two years ago) I wasn’t getting any bookings despite having a growing online presence. She said it made a lot of sense: I was being recognized for my writing, not for my ability to give sessions. It always stuck with me.

Despite knowing this to be true, my mind still tried to make it happen. I find it interesting that no matter what I adjusted, people still weren’t booking. I tried tweaking and rewording the copy on my website. I experimented with both raising prices and lowering prices. I played with doing traditional foundation readings. I tried doing straight guidance sessions.   

Maybe some would argue I didn’t try hard enough in marketing or selling my offerings. Yet, that always felt wrong within my body. I trusted that those who wanted to work with me would find me, one way or another. I wasn’t about to convince people’s not-selves on why they needed to book a session with me.

The truth is I never enjoyed doing sessions. I tried to convince myself I did, holding onto the belief that “one day this will get better, one day it will all click and I will enjoy this.” But I always felt like something was missing.

I never felt like I was being myself.

My undefined ajna felt under pressure to “prove” my intelligence, to explain mental concepts, to assert “what I know.”

My undefined throat felt hoarse as I would force myself to speak when nothing was coming. 

My undefined head would try to come up with answers to questions that didn’t matter, or solutions to problems I didn’t care about. 

I was too afraid to tell someone what I truly thought because I was concerned with wanting the client to like me. 

I wanted to meet their expectations. 

I didn’t want to hurt their feelings. 

My mind was always involved, trying to do a “good” job, or mitigate potential backlash by holding back what I really wanted to say.

For anyone who does sessions, caring what the client thinks always obstructs you from delivering the essence of your outer authority. It does a disservice to both yourself, and the person sitting in front of you when you filter your expression.

There are so many reasons I could find as to why I’m not designed for sessions and deciding to quit. But to sum it up — I just don’t care anymore. I don’t have the enthusiasm or passion to sustain me. I do not have the willpower or energy to keep going. My authority finally knew, with conviction, that we’re done here. 

There are many people out there who are gifted with doing sessions and enjoy it. I know Human Design analysts who are incredible at explaining information and breaking it down practically for clients. I know others who are fantastic at giving life guidance and have the patience to listen to people’s problems.

I, however, do not. 

The moment of clarity arrived as I was sitting on my friend’s couch. Someone had booked a session with me for the upcoming Sunday, and I couldn’t understand why everything in me wanted to cancel, why everything in my body was like “I cannot be fucked to do this.”

I realized — as I began to get very emotional, tears crashing, sobs heaving — that holding onto the idea I had to do sessions was a huge weight on my shoulders I’d been carrying around for the last two and a half years. 

Finally admitting to myself — and out loud to my friend — I don’t want to do this anymore released an energetic burden I didn’t know was there. 

My breathing physically changed the moment I said it. 

My entire body took an exhale.

I knew it was time to let go of doing sessions completely. 

I realized I had been processing this decision for the last year. 

The emotional clarity had finally arrived. And this time, it couldn’t be ignored.

***

It feels like everything has come full circle, two and a half years later. 

It feels in a way I’m in the exact same place to where I started. 

Of course, I know I’m not. 

I have quite literally moved across the world. The close relationships I have in my life are completely different. I can feel my body is more relaxed as I experience less resistance. How I see life, the world, and my place within it has changed as I continue to decondition.

But I’m right back to where I was trying to escape all along:

the unknown. 

I don’t know many people who are ready for the kind of surrender strategy and authority brings. Of truly letting go of every mentally imposed idea of what your life should look like, of who you think you should become. 

Of waking up each day and not knowing what’s going to happen. 

Of being open to the invitation, to the response, to the urge, to the initiation which completely surprises you. 

The mind really has no idea what that could be. It can try to steer you in a certain direction, but it’s clear the body is going it’s own way, whether your mind agrees with it or not.

The irony is — whilst letting go of sessions feels like a major personal decision, I was never doing them anyway. I’m simply aligning myself to what’s already happening. That’s all decision-making really is: the mind aligning to the body’s current reality without making it wrong.

I’ve been posting about Human Design for nearly three years. What once began as a creative outlet to process my experiment, turned into me trying to be an influencer and start an online business for a hot minute. I got sucked into the social media vortex, thinking I had to do what everyone else was doing without questioning it first. It’s taken me a long time to return back to my initial relationship with sharing on the internet:

To write just to write. 

Not for any of the extraneous stuff that comes with it — the likes, the followers, the attention, the social clout. 

Not for the promise of making money or reaching for any kind of homogenized “success.”

I just want to be myself.

I’m just here to express what I see from my particular vantage point in time and space.

If strategy and authority takes care of the material plane, then there truly is nothing else to do. The universe has supported me in other ways over the years, much to my mind’s dismay in thinking it should be different. But I’ve always had enough. Life has continued to carry me. Whatever strange process this is, something seems to be working.

I have a firm belief that we cannot lose what is correct for us, no matter how much our mind veers from the path.

I also believe that what is not correct for us, eventually falls away as you continue to decondition. It’s inevitable.

I don’t have an answer to what I’m doing, where I’m going, or what the future holds for me. I don’t know if I’m going to make money from Human Design, or if something else entirely different will bang into me. My mind doesn’t like it. I’m sure my parents don’t like it either.

But I’m learning to be okay with not knowing. I’m learning how to surf the waves of uncertainty in a world which praises those who stick to “the plan.” I’m slowly letting go of my attachment to what other people think of me and my life. I’m beginning to get that place of truly, not caring.

I can’t help but laugh at how ridiculous this all is — the belief I have any control, whatsoever, over the direction my life is heading. As a passenger, it makes for a real entertaining ride. It’s not for everyone. But I don’t think you get to choose either. I certainly didn’t.