What’s Clouding Your Peace? Discover the Lens You See Life Through
Each of the following questions has 5 answer choices. Choose the one that feels most true for you. Your responses will reveal the energetic lens through which you tend to see the world—offering insight into what your life is trying to show you in order to experience peace as your permanent state of being.
The Striver sees the world as fundamentally unsafe—an unpredictable, unstable place where survival must be earned. Through this lens, safety is not a birthright, but a reward for effort. “No one’s coming to save me” becomes an unspoken mantra.
You may have grown up in a home where a parent was absent, neglectful, or emotionally unavailable. Perhaps your basic needs—whether physical, emotional, or energetic—were unmet. Or maybe you were simply handed the generational belief that if you want to make it in life, you have to work hard. Harder than others. Hard enough to outrun instability.
And so the Striver was born: the part of you who got up early, stayed late, tried harder, and carried it all—because she had to.
While this lens may have made you highly capable, independent, and resilient, it often comes at a cost. The Striver is tired. She’s run on adrenaline, self-reliance, and sheer willpower for too long. Beneath her competence lives a deep longing: to soften, to be supported, to finally rest. Life may present her with situations that force her to confront this exhaustion—job rejections, endless hustling that leads nowhere, or burnout cycles that no amount of effort can fix. These are not failures. They are invitations to lay the heavy burden down.
In relationships, the Striver often attracts the chill archetype—partners who seem relaxed, passive, even avoidant. Unconsciously, you may feel drawn to them because they mirror your repressed desire to let go. But instead of relaxing into their presence, you may find yourself “managing” the relationship, fixing problems, or being the one who holds it all together. The Striver doesn’t know how to receive, because receiving feels unsafe.
To heal the Striver lens is to come home to the Earth within you. It is to remember that the ground beneath your feet supports you without asking anything in return. That the trees don’t hustle to grow, and the rivers do not effort to flow. Inner safety is not built by how much you have in your bank account, or how well your partner behaves—it is a frequency you cultivate inside, again and again, until your nervous system believes it.
When you begin to feel safe in your own being—safe to slow down, to receive, to trust—you begin to dismantle the old story that you must “earn your right to exist.” Life begins to open in new ways. In business, this might look like asking for more and receiving it without guilt. In love, it may look like releasing control and allowing yourself to be held. And within your own mind, you experience something rare and sacred: the silence of enoughness.
Letting go of the Striver is like taking off a heavy backpack you didn’t know you were wearing your whole life. In its place rises a sense of calm, grounded flow. A rhythm aligned not with survival, but with life itself. And from this rooted place, everything begins to grow—naturally, effortlessly, abundantly, as unconditional receiving becomes your permanent state of being.
A memory your soul is longing to return to:
Waking up on a slow morning, sunlight gently spilling across the bed, and for once… there's nowhere to rush to. No pressure to prove, no checklist to chase. Just you, warm under the blankets, feeling her breath rise and fall. And in that stillness, a quiet revelation: I’m safe here. I don’t need to earn my place on this Earth.
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P.S.
If this lens resonates with you, and you want to explore more of how you can step into the transformation for lasting peace and fulfillment, you're warmly invited to book a free introductory session here. On the session, you will receive even deeper insights of what your soul wants for you and see if you'd be a fit for deeper guidance and support too.
The Good Girl sees the world through the need to be pleasing—liked, wanted, accepted, or approved of—in order to belong.
It was born from the emotional undercurrents of your early environment. Maybe your caretakers gave you love only when you were agreeable, easy, accommodating. Maybe emotions like anger, sadness, or desire were met with disapproval, punishment, or withdrawal. So you learned: to be safe is to smile, to perform, to be “good.”
The Good Girl becomes fluent in reading the room, adjusting her tone, suppressing her needs, and being exactly who others need her to be. She’s the caretaker, the peacekeeper, the one who anticipates everyone’s needs—but quietly forgets her own. Her value becomes wrapped around being wanted. Her safety, around being chosen.
But underneath the sweet smile and practiced poise lives a deeper grief: the pain of self-abandonment. Over time, the Good Girl loses access to her own desires, her own no’s, her wildness, her sensuality, her life force. She may feel emotionally numb or easily overwhelmed. She may struggle to make decisions for herself. She may give herself away—sexually, energetically, or emotionally—just to feel connected.
This pattern often shows up in relationships that feel one-sided, where you give more than you receive. Or in friendships where you're always the therapist, the emotional container, the dependable one. You might find yourself drawn to emotionally unavailable people—trying to earn their affection through perfection. Or to emotionally needy people—so your role as giver feels justified. But either way, connection becomes conditional and never fully nourishing.
The Good Girl lens distorts your relationship with pleasure, boundaries, and emotional truth. It makes it hard to ask for what you want without guilt, to say no without fear, or to take up space without apologizing. Your sense of worth becomes tied to how useful, attractive, or agreeable you are to others.
To heal this lens is to reclaim your emotional body as sacred. To feel your feelings all the way through without shame. To remember that your no is as holy as your yes. That your emotions aren’t “too much”—they are the tides of your soul, leading you to a life that feels more true to you.
Healing the Good Girl lens is a return to authenticity—to becoming whole again after years of being half of yourself for the sake of love.
It’s a journey of rewilding: of letting your true desires surface like spring water from beneath frozen ground. Of reconnecting with your sensuality, your creativity, your joy. Of making space for the you that doesn’t care who approves.
And from this sacred reclamation, life begins to respond differently. Your career becomes a natural expression of Self rather than rules and rigid restrictions. Your relationships become more reciprocal. Your creativity flows more freely. Your body softens into safety.
And you realize: the real you is not only worthy of love—but is love itself.
And from this liberated place, everything begins to flow—sensually, truthfully, unapologetically, as unconditional freedom becomes your permanent state of being.
A memory your soul is longing to return to:
Walking into a room and not needing to impress anyone. You no longer need to scan for how you're being perceived. You're just… present. Laughing, speaking, resting in your body—and it feels natural, not forced. Deep down, you realize "I don’t have to try so hard. And I am still loved."
~
P.S.
If this lens resonates with you, and you want to explore more of how you can step into the transformation for lasting peace and fulfillment, you're warmly invited to book a free introductory session here. On the session, you will receive even deeper insights of what your soul wants for you and see if you'd be a fit for deeper guidance and support too.
The Manifestor sees the world as a place to be shaped, conquered, mastered. At the center of this lens is a woman who knows she was born for more—who feels the fire of her soul whispering, “You’re meant to do something big.” And so she dreams, plans, builds. She sets visions into motion with an almost magical willpower, determined to make her mark.
Often, this pattern emerges from a childhood where achievement was praised more than presence. Maybe your brilliance was noticed only when it shone. Maybe you felt responsible for holding the family together, or had to grow up too fast. Somewhere along the line, you learned that your worth is measured by what you do, not who you are.
The Manifestor becomes the woman who’s always on: striving, producing, optimizing her life. She tracks goals and monitors outcomes. She's empowered, magnetic, often deeply admired. And yet, beneath her success is a quiet fear: What happens if I stop? Who am I without the wins?
When the Manifestor lens is overactive, it distorts your relationship to power. You may feel like your self-worth rises and falls with your results. A project that doesn’t land, a launch that flops, or a plan that unravels can lead to spirals of self-blame. You begin to think I didn’t do it right, or worse, There must be something wrong with me.
And when things do go well, there’s often a temporary high—followed by the next mountain to climb. The Manifestor may find herself addicted to potential, chasing the horizon, feeling restless even in moments of success. Desire is constant. Pride keeps her going. But underneath, she may be carrying exhaustion, fear, and frustration that nothing ever feels done.
This lens can also show up in relationships—as the one who “has it all together,” who struggles to receive without performing, who fears being seen as weak. You may unconsciously attract people who drain your power or resist your leadership—mirroring your own inner conflict between control and surrender.
To heal the Manifestor lens is to remember that your power doesn’t come from what you achieve—it comes from what you are. It’s a return to inner authority, not as control, but as presence. The Solar Plexus (the chakra associated with the Manifestors), if in balance, doesn’t grasp or chase. It radiates. It knows that true power doesn’t need to push—it just is.
This healing begins when you let yourself be enough now—not when the business hits six figure months, not when the dream relationship arrives, not when the vision board is complete. Now. It deepens when you release the need to force outcomes, and instead, align with the rhythm of life—trusting that divine timing is never late, and your worth is not up for negotiation.
As this shift takes root in your body, your nervous system begins to relax. Your actions become fueled by joy, not pressure. Your confidence no longer hinges on performance. Your creativity flows without rushing, then paralyzing. You begin to lead, not from force, but from clarity and grounded sovereignty, with the need to prove your worth.
And from this place, everything– from career to relationships begins to align—naturally, confidently, soulfully, as you experience wholeness in everything that you are.
A memory your soul is longing to return to
You close your laptop after hours of scripting, visualizing, aligning, trying. The house is quiet. The sun is setting, brushing golden light across the walls. And in a rare moment of surrender, you let it all go—the goals, the timelines, the vision boards. You walk outside barefoot, feeling the earth beneath you. The air kisses your skin. For once, you're not focused on what’s coming. You're just here. And it dawns on you: peace isn’t something I have to create—it’s something I can let in.
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P.S.
If this lens resonates with you, and you want to explore more of how you can step into the transformation for lasting peace and fulfillment, you're warmly invited to book a free introductory session here. On the session, you will receive even deeper insights of what your soul wants for you and see if you'd be a fit for deeper guidance and support too.
The Martyr forms in hearts that learned love through self-sacrifice. At the center of this pattern is a woman who feels everything—who senses the unspoken grief in a room, who carries the ache of others in her chest as if it were her own. Love, to her, has always meant giving. And so she gives—her time, her energy, her heart—without hesitation, even when it empties her.
This lens often develops in childhood, when love came with conditions. Perhaps your presence soothed a struggling parent. Perhaps you became the emotional caregiver for a sibling. Perhaps you learned to dim your needs, to manage everyone else’s moods, to equate your value with how much pain you could carry. In exchange, you may have received a sense of importance—but not true intimacy.
The Martyr becomes the woman who always shows up. She holds the space. She remembers the little things. She overextends herself without being asked. She listens deeply and gives freely—and yet quietly wonders why no one ever seems to notice the depth of her heart. She longs to be met as deeply as she loves. But more often than not, she feels invisible, taken for granted, or misunderstood.
When the Martyr lens is active, love becomes entangled with guilt. Rest feels selfish. Joy feels unearned. She may sabotage her own ease or success, believing that she must suffer too—lest life be unfair to others. In moments of beauty, a subtle grief creeps in: Do I even deserve this? And when she finally collapses under the weight of holding everyone else, she feels ashamed for needing help at all.
In career, the Martyr may pour herself into missions that matter—into healing, advocacy, service—but feel crushed when others don’t share her devotion. She may find herself doing the emotional labor for teams, clients, or causes, often burning out because she believes if I don’t carry this, who will?
In love, she often yearns for a soulmate who will finally see her. She may fantasize about being rescued or chosen fully—but struggles with intimacy because part of her still believes she must earn that love through suffering. Her heart aches not because she is weak—but because it’s been made the container for everyone else's sorrow.
To heal the Martyr lens is to return to the truth that love was never meant to be transactional. It is not something to earn or barter with. It is the very essence of who you are.
The heart chakra, when balanced, does not ache to be seen—it radiates. It does not collapse to meet others—it invites them higher. It does not give to prove worth—it gives because it is overflowing.
This healing begins when you allow yourself to be held. When you realize that joy is not a betrayal, but a transmission. That your happiness does not take away from others—it blesses them. That your light does not cast shadows—it shows others what’s possible.
As this truth softens into your body, you begin to feel safe being supported. You begin to receive without shame. You allow yourself to rest, to feel good, to feel loved, without needing to earn it. You no longer try to rescue others, nor do you hand over your soul waiting to be saved. You meet others from your fullness, not your wounds.
And from this place, the ache in your chest lifts. Your heart, no longer soaked in sorrow, becomes a clear wellspring of love. You attract people who meet you in your depth. You serve without depletion. You love without losing yourself.
And you walk through the universe—open-hearted, unburdened—no longer needing to carry the pain of the world to prove your belonging in it.
A memory your soul is longing to return to
Sitting across from someone you loves and sharing a boundary—not as an act of defense, but as a soft truth. And then… you're met with warmth, not rejection. Your whole body relaxes. And you realize: I can be loved without sacrificing what I feel.
~
P.S.
If this lens resonates with you, and you want to explore more of how you can step into the transformation for lasting peace and fulfillment, you're warmly invited to book a free introductory session here. On the session, you will receive even deeper insights of what your soul wants for you and see if you'd be a fit for deeper guidance and support too.
The Seeker sees life as a mystery to be solved, a truth to be unlocked. At the center of this lens is a woman who has always been searching—for the right path, the right words, the right answers to finally make it all make sense. Her inner world is vast and full of questions. She has read the books, followed the mentors, understood all the healing concepts—but peace still feels like something just out of reach.
This lens often forms in early environments where her voice felt too much, or not enough. Perhaps she was labeled the sensitive one, the odd one out, the one who asked “why?” too many times. Perhaps she was praised for being wise, but not held when she was vulnerable. Or maybe her truth was ignored entirely—leaving her to wonder if she even had the right to speak it.
The Seeker becomes the woman who is always evolving, always processing, always yearning for clarity. She’s articulate, self-aware, often seen as insightful and spiritually “on the path.” She may express herself beautifully in writing, or pour herself into therapy, healing work, or personal development. But underneath all the exploration, there is a quiet ache: When will I finally arrive?
When the Seeker lens is overactive, it distorts your relationship to truth and expression. You may feel like your voice must be perfectly clear before it’s worthy of being heard. You may struggle with self-doubt, second-guessing your intuition, revising what you say in your head long after the conversation has ended. You may journal endlessly but speak very little. You may long to be fully seen, yet fear that if you are, you’ll be misunderstood.
This lens can also create a restless spirituality—constantly reaching for the next breakthrough, book, or modality in hopes that this will be the one. And when it doesn’t bring the peace you hoped for, you blame yourself: Maybe I didn’t do it right. Maybe I’m still not healed enough. Maybe I just haven’t found the right truth yet.
In relationships, the Seeker often yearns for someone who “gets” them—who can meet them in their depth and resonance. But their own guarded throat may keep them from truly being known. They may struggle to express their needs, or shapeshift their tone to keep the peace, sacrificing authenticity in favor of connection. They may also feel like no one really hears them—and secretly wonder if their truth is too much, too strange, too tender for this world.
To heal the Seeker lens is to realize: peace does not come from finding the truth—it comes from being it.
The throat chakra, when balanced, doesn’t have to seek clarity—it allows it to move through like the wind moving through trees. It doesn’t strive to say the right thing—it speaks from the rootedness of your own inner being. Nor it looks outside for permission—it knows that expression is sacred simply because it is alive.
Healing the seeker begins when you let your voice come through in its raw, messy beauty—not to be validated, but to be honored. When you stop trying to say things perfectly and instead speak what’s real. When you realize your truth doesn’t need to be grand or certain or universally resonant to matter. It matters because it’s yours.
As this shift integrates, your seeking begins to soften. You no longer chase truth like it’s somewhere outside of you. You realize that your presence—your being—is already the answer. You no longer dilute your voice to be understood, but trust that the right people will hear you as you are.
And from this place, you no longer seek peace like it’s somewhere outside of you—you remember it was always in your breath, your stillness, your being. Your voice, once tangled in doubt, becomes a gentle stream, offering what’s true in the moment without needing to prove. And even in your silence, even when you do nothing at all, you feel the quiet contentment of enoughness—a deep exhale, soft and steady, blooming delicately like the wildflowers in spring.
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A moment your soul is longing to return to
You're halfway through journaling—but now you set the pen down and let the silence linger. Outside, the wind moves through the trees without needing to be understood, the sun spills itself across the floor without asking to be seen. You breathe. And without planning to, you whisper a truth—not polished or profound, but honest and present: “This is where I am.” And in that quiet, you realize.... you’re not reaching forward or looking back, for the first time in your life. You’re simply here. And you realize, with a calm that surprises you: you’ve arrived.
~
P.S.
If this lens resonates with you, and you want to explore more of how you can step into the transformation for lasting peace and fulfillment, you're warmly invited to book a free introductory session here. On the session, you will receive even deeper insights of what your soul wants for you and see if you'd be a fit for deeper guidance and support too.