Breaking The Structure

On the pressure it get it right, the patterns that hold us back, and writing from within the process instead of after.

I have a structure inside my head for these Substack posts are supposed to go. That framework helped me organize the information swirling around in my mind and deliver it in a way I believe a hypothetical reader to consume.

But truthfully, it’s such a pleasure to write what’s helped me - things I’ve collected from all over and blending together now. Writing has always been how I fully understand the knowledge I’ve consumed. Writing has benefited me first, and my hope is someone else later.

Still, there are times I feel pressure to produce.

Most of what I’m sharing here started in my journal, and I’ve expanded on it. Sometimes, as I dig into a topic, I get tested on it. It’s as if writing it pulls the lesson into my present moment for deeper integration.

And if I don’t feel that I passed that test - if I’m not embodying what I’m writing - I start feeling that is disingenuous of me to share. It makes me question whether the information is even true.

"Why isn't it working right now?" And of course, like anything these things take repetition far greater than we can imagine.

But the truth is, educated on it even if I can’t execute it perfectly yet. I have a desire to be authentic.

Humans can know something without always living it. And when we share that knowledge, people assume it’s not true if we’re not embodying it. Embodiment is when it truly applied. It’s how we give advice in a connected way. '

We can reflect information and provide value to others without fully living the lessons ourselves. Maybe I don’t need to master every lesson to offer something useful. Maybe walking through it honestly is enough.

But we are more likely to over-identify with the struggle or project our own pain onto that information if we haven’t done the work to fully embody it. And I want to be very careful not to do that to anyone. Because I know how deeply words can shape healing - or harm it.

Lately, I’ve been sitting with another layer:

Whose knowledge am I sharing, really?

After listening and reading too much, I feel so strongly that this isn't my information I'm sharing. It's just my retained collection of other people's research and information.

I spend a lot of time in books research, podcasts, comparing it to lived experience and conversations. Sometimes I feel like I'm not sharing anything that's truly mine. And that's the way it should be. I think it's trite to believe this is "my knowledge".

What makes knowledge 'yours'? Is it an original idea? Or the way they've woven patterns together and applied them to the specific context?

So under this premise, knowledge is only acquired through application - and then only accessible through listening or learning.

In fact, I think much of this knowledge has floated around for centuries and across many cultures, available to those who hold reverence for wisdom.

We say we’re in the information age because we’ve never had more data available - but maybe we’ve never been further away from embodying knowledge. Could it be that with the overkill of too much information that we hold none of the information with reverence, therefore we rarely apply it? Or is it we lived in a burned-out individualist culture where we couldn’t possibly apply it all?

Despite that, I maintain the responsibility to alchemize my pain in relation to specific topics as much as possible before sharing. I want to maintain the integrity of the information I share because it is in fact so valuable, at least to me.

I digress, so then comes the question: why does life test me on what I write? It makes sense psychologically and spiritually, so I bow down to both and attempt to learn my lesson.

• Recency bias means that it's top of mind, so I'm more sensitive to related experiences

• Frequency bias means I notice more examples of it because I'm now tuned in to it.

That leads straight into spiritual frequency - my focus creates magnetism, good or bad.

And of course, spiritual refinement shows up: life mirrors my growth and asks me to deepen it. Psychologically, we call this amplification - intense focus on something increases its chance. Spiritually, it’s magnetism - drawing in like experiences as a reflection of where my energy is tuned.

The double meaning of frequency bias.

So whether it's brain patterns, energetic attraction, or divine orchestration, the result is the same: I end up living what I write from time to time.

But in the meantime, we always have a choice. Free will and choice. We can soften to these inner pressures just by naming them, bringing them into consciousness. We can break the cycle simply by noticing it - and choosing instead of simply moving forward.

That’s what I’m doing here. I noticed my thoughts. In the end, I’m not following the structure I decided on for Substack. I’m writing what’s actually on my mind. The real inner dialogue. The layered, messy truth of how it feels to live in integrity while sharing what I know.

Because every time I think I've passed a lesson, life brings me another layer. Even when I think a lesson only applies to my childhood or a certain relationship, I realize it's showing up in ordinary moments, small decisions, and seemingly unrelated interactions.

And yes, that sounds exhausting. But the more I peel it back, the lighter it becomes - but I’m no longer running from it. I’m learning to recognize patterns instead of reacting to them.

Today’s pattern?

The self-imposed pressure to follow a structure I created in my mind.

Step one: notice it. Step two: question it. Step three: choose.

This time I am choosing differently. Writing this is a very act of change. The moment of me dropping my patterned thinking, I enter this flow. It stops being performative and becomes natural.

This is how new patterns form - not through force, but through awareness. Then not from perfection, but from presence.

And that, honestly, is the greatest freedom!