Manifesting Generator

On Rescheduling My Life

I want to start with the obvious: I’ve been moving this blog around a lot.

Posts delayed. Ideas shifted. Timelines stretched. From the outside, it might just look like poor planning or “life happens,” but underneath it, there’s been a lot of change. The kind of change that rearranges you from the inside out.

Lately, I’ve felt like I’ve been rescheduling more than just my content—I’ve been rescheduling my life, my priorities, my relationships, and my identity.

And I want to talk about that.

Finding Out I Have a Sister

Somewhere in the middle of all this, I found out I have a half-sibling.

A sister. Older than me.

That sentence alone holds so much: shock, grief, curiosity, validation, and oddly, relief. It felt like a missing puzzle piece I didn’t know I was searching for finally dropped into place.

We share more than DNA—we share patterns. We’re both neurodivergent. We’re both highly sensitive people. HSP. We’ve lived these weirdly parallel lives without knowing each other, both questioning where certain traits, reactions, and sensitivities came from. Suddenly, some of those questions had answers.

At the same time, this discovery didn’t magically repair everything around it. If anything, it highlighted certain wounds and dynamics even more. I’ve had to place distance on ties that harm me, even when I love the people on the other end of those ties. I can love them and still keep them away from me. Both can be true.

I gained a sister and some answers—but I also gained clarity on where my boundaries need to be. And that’s been its own kind of growing pain.

Transitioning, Again: From Caregiving to Campus

On the career side, life has been just as transitional.

Before caregiving, I started as a trainer. And I loved it. Teaching, guiding, helping people grow—that’s my zone. That’s where I feel the most myself, the most useful, the most lit up from the inside.

But caregiving came with something training didn’t always offer at the time: steady pay.

So I chose caregiving out of fear.

Not because I didn’t love helping people (I did, deeply), but because I didn’t fully believe in my ability to sell my training, to stand in it, to say, “This is valuable and I’m worth being paid well for it.”

Caregiving was a role I took on because I wanted to help others, understand others, defend others. I wanted tangible skills. I wanted to know that if a spouse or a parent ever got sick, I could care for them, not just in theory, but in practice.

But somewhere along the way, it pulled me away from my original passion.

So now, I’m in this in-between phase. I’ve been transitioning out of caregiving, and I’ve taken a role at a university.

The hiring process was… a lot. Gruesome, honestly. Long, exhausting, layered. But my intuition told me I had the job the moment I walked out of the interview. There was this grounded sense of, “This is mine” before anyone ever called me.

And I was right.

They’ve been kind to me. They’ve respected my need for small accommodations. But they’ve also been stretching me. Teaching me social skills I didn’t realize I was missing. Showing me how to really listen. How to receive feedback without instantly translating it into criticism. How to pause and ask, “Is this about my worth, or is this about my growth?”

This job isn’t my final destination, but it’s an important bridge. It’s teaching me how to exist in community again, how to handle feedback, how to sit in rooms where people see me and reflect things back that I didn’t want to see, but needed to.

And slowly, I’m finding the courage to move back toward my original passion: training. My life’s work. The place I can make the deepest difference in myself and others. The work that fuels me to be my best, inside and out.

Feeling My Feelings Instead of Studying Them

Somewhere in this mix of new family, new job, and old passions resurfacing, I took a Human Design quiz—for fun.

I didn’t expect it to read me like a diary.

It told me that when I’m out of alignment, I act from frustration. And that my gut—my fast, immediate answers—is how I operate best. I’ve always known that about myself on some level, but seeing it laid out like that hit different.

And if that wasn’t the realest lesson I’ve had about feeling my emotions instead of intellectualizing them…

I’ve spent a lot of my life trying to analyze my way out of pain. Think it through. Find the lesson. Make it logical. Be “good.” Be reasonable. Be understanding.

But this season hasn’t let me bypass the actual feeling part.

It’s been painful.
It’s been agonizing at times.
But it’s also been worth it.

Because for the first time, I’m watching myself become almost unrecognizable—in a good way. Less apologetic. Less performative. Less desperate to be understood or chosen. I’m needing less from the outside because I’m finally giving more to myself on the inside.

Human Design also helped me see where I’ve failed in my relationships. Not in a self-hate way, but in a clear, sober way.

I saw what I tolerated.
Where I over-gave.
Where I couldn’t hold space for someone else’s process because I was drowning in my own.
How that might have made others feel unseen, or pressured, or not enough.

That’s a hard mirror to look into. But I’m grateful for it now.

On Love, Loss, and Letting People Be Happy Without You

I miss my ex sometimes.

Little things remind me of him sometimes. A song, a Waymo, a random moment or joke that makes me think, “He’d get this.” And when that happens, I let myself feel it now instead of shoving it down or shaming myself for it.

I really do wish him happiness.

And I also honor my own experience. I was allowed to feel like we were both being hypocritical at times. I was allowed to feel angry at him for overseeing my pain a lot of the time, no repair. Angry at myself for ignoring my gut when I’d notice patterns of disrespect and requests not to be compared just would go disregarded while it was a sin for me to not understand someone’s boundaries and cross them. Granted, I did and I ended up hurting someone’s feelings. Remorseful that I hurt his feelings in any way. But my growth was happening, it was never believed, the good I did do was overlooked a lot, and at the end of the day, I really did love them, I really was trying to be healthy for me, because it would benefit him, but it grew not as fast as he think it did. I said it long before I felt it th way it’s said by most people. I meant it originally as a phrase of appreciation for a person. A human. A man who wasn’t perfect but was damn close, in my eyes. My love for him had only truly begun at liquid stranger. It grew the more I saw he wasnt perfect but that I loved him no different. Even his avoidant patterns, I had decided I could love him through as well because well, I didn’t want to change him. What I failed to understand was how to support what he SAID he had wanted which was to be more secure in the connection, be less avoidant. But I never felt safe again after being vulnerable about how my brain freezes, and drops events, my experience in my body, my lack of medical, my jobs, and seeking more when they were received with dismissal. Minimizing. I often felt built up in some moments because it’s what the kind thing to do but duality. Wounding would also cause harm in hurtful ways to me. Indifference and Contempt in someone is a tough pill to swallow when directed your way from a sometimes loving source. And of course saying I love you one minute while saying I like you the next would make any one who was trying to gain security question the connection, as well as if you always brought up wanting to date other people when voicing something I was feeling than was deemed negative for them. That’s made to keep someone off balance. Intended or not, he made the right call to break up. I wasn’t ready for that step YET but I wanted us to have that discussion to clear up confusion before it got to that too. I even wrote about it the day I was broken up with in my journal. But it gave me a good idea of where to focus my healing. Enjoying the feeling of being alive.

I wondered if it was the way I felt. Some of it. But some of it was him. Not his looks. Not his body or his mind. Just simply him. But I suppose I was confused on what our connection actually was and I did see his potential to be not afraid as I saw mine but I was told I was wrong to only care about potential. I didn’t. I have depth. I cared about his potential to be better, as mine, BUT also as who he is, even when it hurt. What felt like begging to me was saying to him twice “please don’t do this.” But I ultimately knew I would also be fine, as I told him.

For a long time, I felt like the narrative around me was that I didn’t care. That I cared more about the loss of him than the hurt I caused him. And that wasn’t true. My personality was built around being the “good girl.” The reliable one. The one who doesn’t hurt people.

So the idea that I hurt him gutted me. I turned that pain inward. I shamed myself. I spiraled.

With time, distance, and a lot of uncomfortable honesty, I’ve been able to look more clearly at the dynamic:

I was over-helping.
He wasn’t present.

We were both playing roles we probably learned very young. I tried to earn closeness by doing, fixing, and supporting. He stayed further back, maybe protecting himself in his own way. It wasn’t all bad, and it wasn’t all good. But it was ours. And it taught me what I will no longer abandon myself for. I’m valuing those who value me. I choose those who choose me. I make mistakes and I am human, but I am LEARNING, and have ALWAYS been growing. I have been patient. And will continue as such.

Now, I’m coaching myself again. I feel more confident in my alignment. I feel I am living in it again more each day. I check in with my gut more. Trust my fast answers more. Let myself feel the waves of anger, grief, gratitude, and love instead of trying to explain them away.

I love the person I’m becoming more now:
More grounded.
More honest.
More sovereign.
More willing to choose myself without needing anyone else to be the villain.

Why the Blog Is Moving, But I’m Finally Rooting

So yes, the blog has been moved around a lot lately.

But that’s because I have been moved around a lot lately by life, by family revelations, by career shifts, by heartbreak, by growth, by my own intuition finally getting the mic.

I’m transitioning out of fear-based decisions and into alignment-based ones.
I’m learning to care for people without abandoning myself.
I’m learning that distance doesn’t equal lack of love.
I’m learning that feedback isn’t an attack.
I’m learning that my gut is not the enemy but rather it’s the guide.

If you’ve made it this far, thank you for being here while I figure all of this out in real time.

I’m still rescheduling posts and rearranging timelines.
But for the first time in a long time, I’m not rescheduling me.

A Nap Before the Night

So today, before I get ready for tonight’s Peekaboo show, I’m doing something that would have felt almost “wrong” to an older version of me:

I’m taking a nap.

I’m leaving for the city when doors open so I can be there on my own timeline but not rushing, not people-pleasing, not overextending. Just honoring my body, my energy, and what feels right.

That tiny decision is actually a big reflection of where I’m at now: I’m learning to let life be spacious. To show up without burning myself out to prove anything to anyone, including myself.

And underneath all of that, I’ve been thinking a lot about what truly makes me me.

What Makes Me Me: My Core Values

I’ve spent a lot of time untangling my patterns, my past, and my reactions. Under all of it, I’ve found a handful of core values that feel non-negotiable for who I am and how I want to move through the world with intention and purpose. You can include safety too for another discussion and why I didn’t include it though it’s my most important.

Intuition
Health
Spirituality
Vulnerability
Curiosity
Hope

These aren’t just pretty words to me. They’re anchors. They decide what I say yes to, what I walk away from, and how I come back to myself when life goes sideways.

Let me break down what each means, how they fit together, and what their boundaries look like in practice.

Intuition

What it means:
Intuition, for me, is that quiet inner knowing that doesn’t need a spreadsheet of pros and cons to make sense. It’s the feeling in my gut, the tightening in my chest, the sense of “this is right” or “this isn’t for me” even when nothing on paper explains it.

How it shows up in a person’s journey:
Intuition is the part of you that always knew when a relationship was off, when a job wasn’t aligned, when a city didn’t feel like home, even when you stayed longer than you should have. It nudges you toward the people, places, and choices that feel like truth, even if they’re inconvenient, scary, or different from what others expect.

Boundaries of intuition:

Saying “no” when something feels wrong, even if you “can’t explain it.”
Refusing to override your body’s signals just to be polite, impressive, or agreeable.
Walking away from opportunities that look good on the outside but feel draining on the inside.

Intuition doesn’t owe anyone a PowerPoint presentation. “It doesn’t feel right” is enough.

Health

What it means:
Health to me is not perfection or aesthetics but rather its capacity. It’s being able to show up for my life, my relationships, my work, and myself without constantly running on fumes. It covers physical, mental, emotional, and energetic health. It’s where most frustration with myself has been and there’s a lot to dive into with this one, for another time.

How it shows up in a person’s journey:
Health is in the decision to go for a walk instead of doom-scroll. To sleep instead of pushing through “just one more thing.” To train again after a break because you care about your strength, not just your appearance. It’s choosing practices that regulate you instead of only reacting once you’re already burned out.

Boundaries of health:

Protecting your sleep like it matters (because it does).
Stepping back from people, habits, or environments that constantly dysregulate you.
Not sacrificing your body or mental health just to keep up a certain image or pace.

Health says: “If it costs me my well-being, it’s too expensive.”

Spirituality

What it means:
Spirituality, for me, is the sense that there is something bigger, wiser, and more connected than just my day-to-day to-do list. It’s the feeling that I am guided, supported, and part of a bigger story, even when things feel chaotic.

How it shows up in a person’s journey:
Spirituality appears in the synchronicities, the right person at the right time, the messages that land exactly when you needed them. It’s in rituals, breathwork, meditation, Human Design charts, prayers, or simply talking to the universe in your car on the way to work.

Boundaries of spirituality:

Not outsourcing your power to a person, system, or belief that overrides your inner truth.
Refusing spiritual bypassing – no skipping over your pain just to be “positive” or “high vibe.”
Keeping your practices sacred by not forcing them on others or letting others mock or belittle them.

Spirituality is deeply personal. It grounds you; it doesn’t cage you.

Vulnerability

What it means:
Vulnerability, to me, is the courage to be seen as you are—messy, in-progress, learning, feeling—all without a guarantee that you’ll be understood or applauded.

How it shows up in a person’s journey:
It’s in telling the truth about your past, your fears, your desires, your confusion. It’s in saying, “I don’t know,” “I’m hurt,” “I was wrong,” or “I want more.” Vulnerability is what creates real intimacy—with yourself and with others.

Boundaries of vulnerability:

Sharing honestly, but not with people who have shown they can’t hold your truth with care.
Recognizing the difference between being open and emotionally dumping on people who didn’t consent to carry that.
Keeping some parts of your story sacred until you feel safe to share them, not when others demand access.

Being vulnerable doesn’t mean being boundaryless. It means being brave and discerning.

Curiosity

What it means:
Curiosity is the part of me that always asks, “What else is possible here?” It’s the willingness to explore, question, learn, and try again—without needing everything to fit into a neat box.

How it shows up in a person’s journey:
Curiosity is what helps you look at your patterns, not just judge them. It’s what lets you say, “Huh, that’s interesting. Why did I react that way?” instead of spiraling into shame. It’s experimenting with new habits, new healing tools, new ways of relating, and seeing what actually works.

Boundaries of curiosity:

Not poking at wounds (yours or others’) just to analyze or intellectualize the pain.
Respecting that some people are not ready to explore certain topics or truths.
Not staying in harmful situations just because you’re fascinated by “how it plays out.”

Curiosity is a light, not an excuse to wander past your own or someone else’s limits.

Hope

What it means:
Hope, for me, is the quiet belief that things can get better—that you can get better, your relationships can get healthier, your life can become more aligned, even if you don’t know the exact path yet.

How it shows up in a person’s journey:
Hope is what keeps you going to therapy. What makes you restart training after months off. What nudges you to apply again, love again, trust again. Hope doesn’t deny the hard; it walks with it.

Boundaries of hope:

Not using hope to stay in situations that consistently hurt you (“maybe they’ll change” is not a plan).
Letting go when something or someone has shown you, again and again, that they are not willing to meet you where you are.
Allowing hope to live in you instead of placing it entirely on someone else’s potential.

Healthy hope says, “I believe in better,” but it also says, “I won’t abandon myself while I wait for it.”

How It All Ties Together

When I look at these values: intuition, health, spirituality, vulnerability, curiosity, and hope – they feel like different parts of the same compass.

Intuition tells me where to go.
Health makes sure I have the energy to walk the path.
Spirituality reminds me I’m not walking it alone.
Vulnerability lets me be real about what the journey is actually like.
Curiosity keeps me open to growth instead of stuck in old stories.
Hope gives me a reason to keep moving, even when it’s hard.

Together, they create a way of living that is honest, grounded, and deeply human.
They’re how I choose my people, my work, my rest, my nights out, my healing, and my next steps.

And as I take that nap before the show tonight, leave for the city on my own time, and keep rescheduling my life around what feels true.

I’m realizing this:

My life doesn’t need to look perfect to be aligned.
It just needs to be mine.

NEXT BLOG: SUNDAY, I will be posting about my experience at Zingara (LOVE HER) and Peekaboo.

Stay Posted xoxo and Rage on.

-Shae (Owner of SLOP BLOG – Swipe Left On Perfection)

Swipe Left On Perfection

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