Same same, but different.

From some of the earliest memories I have I remember feeling like I was different. There was no way possible I could explain it other than a deep knowing. I was a charismatic kid, loads of friends. I would take the party invitation book to school, write the invites out during lunch break, rip them off the pad and hand them out like I was some sort of mini Oprah. "You get an invite! and YOU get an invite!" I played sports, I hung out, went to parties had boyfriends. It was just the norm as far as childhoods go. People came and went, hobbies and commitments came in and out of my life but there was that thing that always lingered. That sense that I was different.

I'm not talking about a cool different. Like that cool skater chick who wears bright purple doc martins. I was a weird, I see dead people, kind of different (except I didnt see any dead people).

I would feel things, sense things, know things. My Mum and Dad never argued in front of us kids but I knew if something wasn't right between them. My brother never cried, but I could feel him crying internally. I never tried at school but got excellent grades. I could bend the truth and still be believed. I would ask my sister "did you see that look that person gave then", she'd never see it. I would say to her "can you feel that, everyone's angry", "feel what?!" she would say. I remember sitting in her bedroom with her one day and telling her how I felt like an alien to this world. What I remember most about that moment, was her agreeing, that I was indeed alien like.

None of this was detrimental to my childhood or teenage years, I carried on like a normal child. If anything probably tried a little harder to fit in. I easily got jobs, had more serious relationships, married, babies.. the textbook country girl from a small town in the Aussie outback kinda story.

Then my son was born. He came into this world with an impact that felt like an atomic bomb. An unexplainable force like "who and what is this kid?". As he grew his impact got greater and greater.

Once a week I would get together with the 'mum squad'. A group of sleep deprived first time mums who have no idea what the fuck they are doing, IV drip of coffee attached to our arms, all the latest, coolest, indeed necessary baby things dangling off our prams, we would walk to the local grass oval and chitter chatter about mum life.

Not a week would go by without someone making comment. "He's such a different kid isn't he!". Once he started moving "Well he's a little go getter huh, isn't that a bit early to be crawling?". "Gee he doesn't sit still". Constant comments. "He's headstrong huh!?". The thing was, they weren't wrong. The rest of the mum squad would sit and drink their coffee and chat about 'sleep training' while I was doing a 45 minute HIIT workout, up down, up down, trying to wrangle an 11 month old walking atomic bomb,

My son was different. He didnt know it, but they all did. they all noticed & I knew eventually he would too.

I would go home and cry. Sob and sob. Not because he was different. I loved his spirited nature, his little monkey walk, his cheeky smile and how angry he would get if it wasn't going his way. Angry is still cute at 11 months. I would be brought to tears every week because it was a constant reminder of my childhood. It was a constant reminder of how I felt I was different. I was sad that he would have to go through his childhood and teenage years feeling like the stranger in the crowd. That would break me.

I stopped going to the oval. The mums squad eventually stopped inviting me. I was cool with that though. It was getting a bit bloody old watching them all drink their almond milk lattes while mine went cold. The bitterness in my chest was 10 x the bitterness of my coffee let me put it that way. I was over it. I was over their comments. I was over the sadness I would leave feeling. I was over watching my coffee go cold while I chased my kid around putting out spot fires. Instead I would stay home and research. If he was different I wanted to know why. I'm not sure if I was looking for a way to be able to better explain him to people, a way to better understand him myself or if it was a bit of both. Nevertheless I was going to work it out. Insert woman on mission.

Fortunately, I have always been into alternative health and wellbeing modalities. We had a homeopath and kinesiologist that we saw regularly for all those kiddie things that come up. Coughs, colds runny noses, teething, etc. It was a trip to the kinesiologist for a teething remedy that completely changed our lives.

Now I must admit I had already heard of Human Design prior to this point. I was one of the probably millions that pulled up my chart in a self-help feeding frenzy, took one look at it and decided it was for the too-hard-basket. I'd closed it and forgotten all about it.

Our kinesiologist is a woman sent from heaven. She holds space for mummy meltdowns like a boss and on this specific day she was world-class heavy-weight champion of space holding. I was at the end of my tether with not understanding my child, with not being able to advocate for him and also a little bit on the border of "he's broken, just fix him please". She asked me if I'd heard of Human Design and whether I had looked up his chart. It was like a scene from the MATRIX. Time froze. long enough for me to slow motion face palm myself. Like DUH?! why hadn't I thought of that.

I drove my car home that day like I'd stolen it. Straight into the house to enter a Rabbit hole that I had no idea at the time I'd still be down 3.5 years later.

I discovered he is an Emotional Manifestor. I took a breath, ran his chart again and got the same result. I didnt know a lot about Human Design then but with the little knowledge I had I knew that meant he had no sacral and that he was rare. I sobbed. I smiled. I laughed. I was excited, scared and a little lost but for the first time I accepted him for him.

He is different. perfectly different. I didnt need to fix him. I needed to accept him.

In that moment of complete acceptance of him and how he is designed to be in this world something profound occurred. An acceptance of myself. I saw myself as a child but for the first time I saw myself in a different light. I felt my sadness for feeling different lift. I finally understood. I'm different too.

I proceeded to look up all the charts and all the things and ordered all the books. It was like a teenage high school dating scene, Fast, obsessive and pash-rash inducing.

After 30 years of feeling like an alien. I had confirmation. I in fact am alien to this world. Not the majority, focused and absorbing aura, deep deep conditioning and an unhealthy addiction to the sacral. I am a Splenic Projector. Raised in a Penta with emotional Manifesting generators and pure generators. Everything made sense.

E.V.E.R.Y.T.H.I.N.G.

One of the most empowering realisations was in that my discovering of myself could only come from looking outward. Looking inward trying to understand how I fit in the world never worked, in fact it was torture and even more damaging. It was in a moment of looking outward, immersed in someone else's design that I was able to make meaning of what that meant for me and my role on this plane. My aura is designed to drill into the G-Center of another, grab hold of their monopole and mine out all of the information needed to guide, advise, lead and teach the other. All those years spent in personal development and riding the self-help merry-go-round I had been trying to turn my focus inward. Classic projector torture 101.

What came after the acceptance of my son and acceptance of myself, was the acceptance of my parents and their uniqueness. Realisation of their deep conditioning and homogenisation. Realisations of my siblings deep conditioning and homogenisation, all the while collecting moments of realisations about my own conditioning and homogenisation. Always from looking outward and seeing in the other, was I then able to unpack another layer of myself.

Anybody who begins their Human Design experiment will attest to the fact that once you know what you know, it can never be undone. You can never go back. You don't have to become a professional analyst or professor of the science of differentiation to understand the impact that this system has on lives. The impact it has on families, relationships, raising our children.

I live in a different world now. One where being different is fucking epic. Uniqueness is brilliance. A world were being sovereign is accepted and celebrated. A world were language such as "follow your inner authority" is spoken daily and not only spoken, its understood and accepted advice. Now I'm not delusional. I realise that the vast majority of people on this earth have no clue about Human Design and that this world I'm living in is a small rock pool in the ocean. But its steadily growing rock pool and the ecosystem here is thriving. I am only half way in my first 7 year cycle but boy is my world different now. As a Projector I no longer focused inward. I no longer look at people as if they need to change. I no longer accept another person’s authority over my own. I will never buy another self-help book or sleep training program. My pastime is learning, I work only by invitation and with people who recognise me in my area of expertise. My favourite movie to watch is my own and it's got one hell of a storyline. The main character is always trying to hijack the show. The biggest change in my world is this deep knowing that we are all the same yet we are all so different and that's exactly how it should be.

we are here with a role to play, yet we are dramatically different in the execution of these roles.

It’s going to take some time for the tide to turn and the majority of people catch this wave. For now imma hang out in my 'lil rock pool sipping the Kool-Aid while I wait for the invite. What else to do, ya know.