Burnout has been my unwelcome companion for years. As a nurse, I walked through it many times. But the last round was different. It wasn’t just exhaustion — it was sorrow, resentment, and a soul-level heaviness that whispered: you cannot keep doing this.
I would wake up dreading my entire day: traffic, meetings, endless charting. My body screamed, Go back to bed. Even when I wasn’t physically tired, I was drained in my spirit.
This burnout became a breaking point. It asked me to choose: my career or my family. My paycheck or my children. And as a mother — especially of a neurodivergent son who needed more of me — I knew the answer.
I left nursing. I stepped into being a stay-at-home mom. Some parts of me felt free. But in that freedom, the shadows got louder.
In the middle of this identity collapse, my friend Tia introduced me to Human Design. She entered my birth data into a chart, and when she said: “You’re a Projector,” something in me exhaled.
At first, I laughed — of course I project. But as she explained further, something clicked. The bitterness I had carried most of my life suddenly had a name. The exhaustion of hustle culture finally made sense.
Human Design gave me language for what my body already knew: I wasn’t broken, I was built differently.
It was relief, and it was recognition.
The biggest lesson was that my energy wasn’t meant to grind endlessly. My “battery” is smaller — efficient, but not designed for 14-hour days. I thrive in bursts of focus, usually mornings and early afternoons. By evening, I’m spent.
For years, I thought this was weakness. Human Design reframed it as wisdom.
I also learned my strategy: wait for the invitation. That one was harder. My natural tendency is to share insights, to optimize everything. But I began to notice how often my advice landed flat when it wasn’t asked for.
A small but powerful shift: when my friend Monica visited, I resisted the urge to convince her about Human Design. I trusted that if she wanted more, she’d ask. That restraint was personal growth.
Waiting in this context however, doesn’t mean passivity. It means trusting resonance — that the right people will invite me, and my guidance and insight will land when it’s welcomed.
Human Design didn’t just change how I saw myself — it reshaped my relationships.
Matt, my husband, is a Generator. He thrives on social gatherings, nighttime energy, constant movement. I don’t.
For years, I felt guilty for not keeping up. Now, I can say: “My energy isn’t available tonight.” And we find balance — sometimes it’s family outings, sometimes Dad-and-boys time, sometimes just me with the kids.
This clarity has been a game-changer. It’s not me being difficult. It’s me honoring my system so I can show up fully when I am available.
Looking back, I realize I’ve always seen systems clearly. Even in healthcare leadership, Lean Six Sigma felt natural. I didn’t need statistics — my brain just saw inefficiencies.
Now, I understand this gift through multiple lenses:
For years, this made me feel like the black sheep. Too much, too different. Now, I see it as alignment: I was always built to see what others overlook.
Even with these insights, I fall back. I still push past my energy. I still overshare at times. I still say yes when I should say no.
But the difference now? I notice. I catch bitterness before it consumes me. I pause. Human Design doesn’t erase shadows, but it gives me tools to realign faster.
In my soulpreneur journey, Human Design has been the missing link. It shifted my business from hustle to resonance.
Instead of chasing clients or over-explaining my worth, I’ve learned:
Recently, my kids’ school principal offered me a part-time job. Old me would have justified, explained, maybe even accepted out of guilt. This time, I simply said: “I’d rather focus on my business right now — it’s what lights me up.”
It was scary — like turning down guaranteed income. But Matt reminded me: “We don’t need this. It won’t make you happy.” And he was right. Saying no felt like a new kind of freedom.
Burnout was my breaking point. But Human Design gave me a blueprint. A map that explained my energy, validated my gifts, and gave me permission to stop forcing myself into roles that never fit.
Maybe you’ve felt the same — exhausted by molds you were never meant to squeeze into.
Human Design won’t tell you who to be. But it can illuminate what’s already there.
For me, it was the missing link between burnout and awakening — the guide that led me toward alignment, soulpreneurship, and freedom.
Are you curious about your own soul path? Take the quiz to discover your Soul Path Number.
✨ If you’re ready to begin your own realignment, start with my free Career Burnout Breakthrough Checklist or Should I Stay or Should I Go? Clarity Map. These tools are designed to help you notice where you’re at, so you can begin aligning with where your soul is calling you next.
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August 25, 2025
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