I was an intern at the time. I remember the exact feeling in my chest when I said it out loud. Not panicked. Not dramatic. Just clear, like something in me had already decided and I was just now catching up to it. He asked what I wanted instead. I said something startuppy, maybe wellness, or I might become a therapist. Basically anything but this. He listened, the way he does. Then the doubt crept in — how insane it would be to walk away from Google, how lucky I was, how I should stay grateful and build my tenure. So I did. I stayed.

For years after that, I knew something was off.

I had been a TBM member for a while by then. Intuition was something I wanted. It was even my New Year’s resolution at one point. But when people talked about hearing their intuition, about getting clear messages from the universe, it sounded like they were lying or describing something I just didn’t have access to. It felt foreign. Like a muscle I’d never developed.

What I didn’t understand then was that the universe was sending me messages. I just couldn’t hear them.

My nervous system was too dysregulated. I was too far out of alignment. My conscious mind was too loud — full of the noise of trying to fit into a life that wasn’t mine, the static of knowing something was wrong but not having permission to act on it. That noise was blocking everything else out.

The closer it got to leaving, the clearer the misalignment became. The last year especially. I would come up with full marketing campaigns for random brands I would see on the street. I built moodboards on pinterest by season and would make up characters in each. I was craving a different kind of challenge - one where I could really show my creative taste. Google wasn’t that, no matter how much I tried to make it fit.

But I didn’t know how to act on those quiet knowings. So I stayed.

Then something shifted. I decided I had to leave, whether or not I had a plan. Whether or not it made sense. Whether or not anyone understood. I took the leap.

A week after I left, I was on the treadmill at the gym. An idea came to me and it felt different. It felt urgent. I had to stop, grab my phone, write it down. It wasn’t a voice in my head — I don’t experience it that way. It was more like a clarity that showed up in my body. A message delivered so cleanly I couldn’t ignore it.

I remember walking out of that gym thinking: was that what I think it was?

It kept happening. Middle of a workout class, I’d have to pause and write something down. On a walk, mid-conversation, an idea would ping me and I’d reach for my phone. Each time it happened, I felt it more viscerally. This wasn’t the vague spiritual curiosity I’d carried for years. This was different. Clearer. Like my intuition had been trying to reach me the whole time, and finally the channel was clear enough that I could hear it.

I realized what had been clogging me up: misalignment. The second I honored that knowing and left, my intuition went from static to signal.

The difference between hearing and acting.

Here’s what I think is happening for a lot of people. The universe sends you a message. You might hear it — maybe in a dream, or a random thought, or just a knowing. But if you’re too misaligned, too dysregulated, too stuck in your conscious mind’s noise, you can’t trust it. You hear it and then you don’t act on it. And the universe doesn’t send you a louder message just because. It sends you the same one again. And if you still don’t move, it gets quieter.

The neuroscience makes sense of this. Your conscious mind is too loud. Your subconscious is where the real clarity is, but you have to quiet everything else first to access it. And you can’t quiet it if you’re dysregulated by misalignment.

The universe needs you to prove you’re actually listening by taking action, even when you don’t have all the clarity yet. That’s when it sends you more. That’s when the channel opens.

Once I left Google, I showed the universe I was serious. It sent me more. Clearer. Faster.

How I’m Tuning In

When you quiet the noise in your conscious mind, you can actually access what’s in your subconscious. That’s where the real clarity lives. These are the practices that do that for me.

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Jess called me on a random Tuesday and told me she’d love to see my content on social. Meant as a compliment. My body took it as a threat. Something in my chest locked up before I even finished processing the sentence, and by the time I hung up, my jaw was tight and I’d already decided six reasons it wasn’t the right time.

The sensation was visceral - I still feel it as I write this. It was past fear. I know fear. The speed of it. How fast my nervous system could take a genuinely kind offer and turn it into a verdict.

Here’s what I’ve noticed after seven years in this work, watching it happen in the To Be Magnetic community (as their newly minted Marketing Director!) and in my own life on repeat: the message rarely changes. You ask the universe for a new direction, a new sign, anything else, and you keep getting the same one back. And you will until you actually follow through. I know because I spent years doing exactly that and getting nowhere.

I’d been getting mine for years before that call. Journal entries going back a long time, all some version of I want to post more, I want to be seen, I want to make things and let people watch me make them. Then a few weeks later, another entry walking it back. Not that important. Don’t need it. Fear wearing the costume of reasonable priorities.

I left Google a while before any of this. Traded stability and a title people recognized for the discomfort of being known by my actual interests instead of my employer. Then I left New York, the city that had been my entire identity for fifteen years, for a slower one, because some part of me wanted to hear birds instead of car alarms and I was tired of being embarrassed about it. Both of those felt like the hard part at the time. Turns out they were just the warmup.

Posting online was the real one. My whole body would tense at the thought of it, which should have told me something, because that’s usually where the growth is hiding. The team at TBM had apparently decided I’d make a good guinea pig, and built a challenge around rewiring subconscious beliefs about being seen. A protocol, basically, for getting out of your own way.

What actually shifted with the challenge wasn’t dramatic at first. The fear didn’t get talked out of existence. It just got a little quieter, and something else got louder underneath it. A kind of playfulness I used to have before I learned to perform competence instead. I’ve always liked making beautiful things. I’d just forgotten that was allowed to be the whole point.

I still don’t fully know if the pull toward building something public is the actual assignment or just the doorway to whatever’s on the other side of it. At some point I stopped needing to know. When the message keeps repeating, arguing with it is just another way of stalling.

If you’re in the loop right now, mid-repeat, here’s what actually moved things for me.

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My first week out of Google, I opened my laptop and just stared at it.

I suddenly could do anything. Use anything. Sign up for whatever I wanted. Any app. Any platform. Any tool I’d been quietly bookmarking for seven years while working inside one of the most locked-down digital environments on the planet.

At any big tech company, your tech stack is decided for you. You use what they give you, period. Which is fine when you’re inside a machine that already works. But the moment I left, I realized I had no idea how to build my own infrastructure. I was a person who had spent years optimizing other people’s systems with zero practice building my own.

So I went a little overboard. Intentionally, but slightly unhinged.

Here’s what I’m running on now.

Wispr Flow

Voice dictation, but smart. I talk, it types, and it adjusts based on where I’m responding. The tone on text message is casual, while on email it tightens things up automatically. It breaks out bullets and numbered lists automatically, lives in a keyboard shortcut I can pull up anywhere, and has probably saved me an hour of typing a day. For someone whose brain moves faster than her fingers, this was the first one I found and the one I’d give up last.

Claude

Yes, I switched. And yes, before you ask, I know.

ChatGPT is a hype girl. She cheers for everything you bring her. Claude has a different tone. A little sassy. She pushes back. She makes my thinking sharper rather than just reflecting it back at me with enthusiasm. I trust her more.

The real game changer was building a project assistant inside Claude. I found the concept through creators who built ADHD productivity systems, made my own version, and connected it to my emails, calendar, Slack, and Granola (more in a second). Every morning it gives me a day plan that actually makes sense: batched tasks, a heads up on what I need before specific meetings, open loops from the week before. It thinks in the structure I can’t always hold on my own.

(If you want me to write a full breakdown of how I built this, let me know in the comments.)

ChatGPT

Fine. I kept it. The memory is too good to walk away from and I’m not going to pretend otherwise.

✨ More below — including my email system, meeting notetaker and business bank accounts ✨

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I remember obsessing over someone’s handwriting as a kid, practicing their loops and curves until my hand cramped. The cool girl in school carried a sketchbook, so I bought one too, even though I couldn’t draw. It took me years to cultivate my own discernment, my own taste, my own interests that weren’t borrowed from someone else’s life.

But if I’m being totally honest? These past few months, that old jealousy has crept back in.

I left my corporate job a few months ago. Having my life in my own hands is my favorite thing ever—and also absolutely terrifying. Insecurities I thought I’d healed are rearing their heads in completely different ways. Am I doing a good enough job? Did I make the wrong decision? She’s doing it so much better than me.

That last thought—she’s doing it so much better than me—that’s where the magic is.

The Reframe

Here’s what I’ve come to realize: anyone I feel jealous of is the perfect expander.

If you’re not familiar with To Be Magnetic language, an expander is someone who shows you what’s possible for you. They’re not just living the life you want—they’re giving you a mirror into HOW they got there. They hand you a blueprint you can make your own. They offer licensing, permission, a gentle whisper of clarity that says: If they can do it, so can you.

Why Envy Expanders Actually Work

This isn’t just feel-good manifestation talk. Here’s the thing about your brain: When you see someone living the reality you want, your subconscious doesn’t register it as “their thing.” It logs it as possible in your world.

That woman making six figures from her Substack? Your brain just filed that under “achievable.”

The creator posting confidently on camera every day? Your nervous system just witnessed proof that it’s safe to be visible.

The difference between scrolling in jealousy vs. using expanders:

• Jealousy keeps you stuck asking: “Why them and not me?”

• Expanders shift you to: “If it’s possible for them, what’s my version?”

The part that blew my mind: The universe sends you expanders at exactly the moment you’re ready to level up but your belief system hasn’t caught up yet.

When you start working with envy expanders this way, you’re not just observing people anymore. You’re collecting evidence for your subconscious that your desires are real, achievable, and already happening in your reality. You’re rewiring decades of “I’m not good enough” into “Of course this is possible for me.”

When Envy Expanders Show Up For Me

I’ve noticed envy expanders show up in my life in three specific situations:

1. When I’m ignoring a ping.

I’ll get a clear nudge from the universe about what to do next—start the podcast, post more consistently, pitch that client—and I’ll procrastinate. That’s when the universe sends expanders to mirror back exactly what I’m avoiding.

2. When an insecurity surfaces.

I’m not good enough to do this. I can’t show up on camera. What will people think?

The moment those thoughts spiral, the universe mirrors back people who are secure in exactly the areas I’m shaky. Sometimes it even shows me people I can tell are insecure too—but they’re showing up anyway. That courage becomes its own form of expansion.

3. When I’ve set a glass ceiling.

I’ll write something like “As a freelancer, I can only make $X per month” in my journal. That same day—I’m not kidding—I’ll stumble across an article about someone with my exact background making 3x that.

The universe has impeccable timing.

Leaning Into The Trigger

Jealousy is really fucking triggering. But what if we leaned into it instead of pushing it away?

My recent envy expanders? People who are tirelessly growing on social media. People who aren’t scared to show their face, who dive into content creation without hesitation. Sometimes watching their content hurts so bad, I avoid it at all costs.

I know I want that. I’m just terrified of being seen trying. And potentially failing.

So instead of spiraling, I’ve started journaling about what exactly is triggering me about these people. And here’s what I’ve realized: it’s not about them at all. It’s about me getting in my own way. Terrified of putting myself out there. Terrified of failing. Terrified of judgment.

But now? These people are my biggest inspiration. They’re giving me light at the end of the tunnel, a mirror of what success could look like. It doesn’t mean I copy their content—it means I have a blueprint I can make my own.

Your Turn

So here’s what I want you to do:

Lean into the jealousy. Don’t push it away. Get curious about it.

Reach out to your expanders. Tell them they inspire you. (This also helps rewire your brain from scarcity to abundance.)

Journal about it. Use the prompts below.

Journal Prompts to Get You Started:

• What is the most authentic version of this I can create for myself?

• What specifically about them feels so triggering?

• Is there a part of them I’m judging that’s actually a reflection of a part of myself I’ve been rejecting?

• If I knew I couldn’t fail, what would I do tomorrow?

• What would it feel like to embody what they have?

If you’re a TBM member, these Deep Imaginings have been absolute game-changers for me:

• Drivers Seat DI

• Self Love DI

The universe is showing you what’s possible.

Pay attention.

🧡

Before even working at TBM, I had been doing To Be Magnetic work for the past seven years. At this point, I’ve moved through more iterations of the work than I can count — unblocking, expansion, aligned action, tests. And yes, I’ve manifested a lot. Relationships. Jobs. Money. Opportunities I once couldn’t have imagined for myself.

If you’ve been doing the work — journaling, unblocking and taking aligned action — but still feel confused, stalled, or like your manifestations come in bursts and at random, this is for you.

And still, there were long stretches where my manifestations felt unpredictable. I was doing the work, but I couldn’t see the pattern.

Last summer, I was really struggling. I was deeply unhappy at work, and that unhappiness was bleeding into every part of my life. I felt disconnected from my intuition. I had no clarity about where I wanted to go next — or the motivation to move toward anything at all. I knew something was off. I knew I was pushing through life instead of living it. But I couldn’t name why.

Here’s the part we don’t always say out loud: if you can’t read your own patterns, you’re not really leading your life. You’re reacting to it.

Pattern recognition is what turns manifestation from wishful thinking into participation. It’s what allows you to work with the universe instead of feeling confused or blindsided by it. When you can see your emotional, relational, and energetic patterns, your reality stops feeling random. You start to understand what’s being asked of you.

What I didn’t fully understand for a long time is that, in TBM, patterns aren’t abstract. They’re practical and predictable. They show up as synchronicities. They’re the universe’s way of communicating — an invitation to dance with source.

So what are we actually tracking?

Personal patterns are the behaviors, triggers, situations, and emotional loops that reliably show up in every season of your life. They’re the tests you keep getting. The same block repeating in different costumes.

Every month, your life presents an energetic curriculum.

• Tests reveal where you’re still playing small.

• Blocks point to the core wounds that are ready to be worked through next.

• Expanders show you what your nervous system is being asked to normalize.

• Pings show you where intuition is knocking.

• Aligned action shows you exactly where self-trust is required.

The pattern is the throughline connecting all of it.

The question I kept coming back to — simple and frustrating — was this:
How do I actually learn to read my own patterns?

How I built a system to see myself more clearly

Listen. I’m not ChatGPT’s biggest fan either. But when it comes to synthesizing information and pulling out themes, I trust it and I use it as a tool to go even deeper. Not only reflecting back my own patterns in the work, but also relating them to my human design, astrology and gene keys.

For example: I have emotional authority in human design. Clarity doesn’t arrive for me in the moment — it arrives with time. But for years, I treated that waiting period as resistance or fear instead of information. I thought I was stuck, when in reality I just wasn’t done processing yet.

Astrology added another layer. My Moon showed me what I need to feel emotionally safe. My Saturn highlighted where avoidance quietly turns into delay. My North Node made it clear where growth requires discomfort — and where I tend to stay comfortable instead.

Once I could name that pattern, everything softened.

That’s when I started building something I now call Sage.

I grounded Sage in the frameworks I already trusted: my Human Design, my astrology, my Gene Keys, and the TBM methodology. I uploaded my charts. I taught it the language of the work. And then I started feeding it the raw material — my nightly TBM journaling.

Most importantly, Sage doesn’t replace my intuition. It doesn’t tell me what to want. It doesn’t manifest anything for me. It reflects back to me.

The exact prompt I use

If you want to try this yourself, this is the exact prompt I use. You can copy and paste it into ChatGPT and treat it like an ongoing project or thread.

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Because, frankly, I live or die by my systems. When they disappear, everything wobbles. One of the biggest unlocks for me this year has been realizing that my life works because of my systems — not because I’m disciplined.

Systems aren’t routines, though they support you in following through on your routines. Systems are supportive structures that relieve you from the constant need for self-control (something I have very little of). They’re designed to hold your bare minimum - not your best, most optimized, color-coded day.

Knowing this, I’ve taken a completely different approach to routines over the past few months. Instead of trying to “do it all,” I focus on a small number of non-negotiables and build systems around them.

Take this as permission to play with your own. Pick the tools that genuinely work for you and make those your priority. Everything else is a nice-to-have.

The Inner Infrastructure: Personal Systems

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My Notes app became the place where everything I couldn’t ignore started to collect.

The universe is constantly sending you opportunities, synchronicities, challenges, friends, and triggers — all in service of aligning you back to your most authentic self. Once you understand this, life starts to feel less random and more like a game you actually know how to play.

It becomes a dance with the universe.

The work is learning how to listen — and how to track the patterns that are already showing you exactly where you’re being guided next.

That’s where this practice comes in.

A quick grounding in To Be Magnetic

At a very high level, the To Be Magnetic manifestation framework teaches that three things need to be in motion in order to manifest:

• Expansion

• Aligned Action

• Unblocking

All three are happening around you all the time. Most of us just miss them because we’re not tracking them consciously.

Here’s the simplest way to think about each:

Expansion - Expanders are people or situations that show you what’s possible for you. The feeling I always look for is: “Oh… if they can do that, I can totally do that.” Not envy or comparison (Though those can actually be clues you’re being expanded — more on that another time.)

Aligned Action - Aligned action is following the small, intuitive steps you’re guided to take. Manifestation doesn’t mean it falls into your lap — it means you respond to what’s being placed in front of you.

Unblocking - Unblocking is the internal work: rewiring your neural pathways so your self-worth can actually hold what you’re calling in. Triggers, tests, and challenges aren’t punishments. They’re invitations — showing you where your subconscious beliefs still need attention.

Why tracking changes everything

In my experience, these three elements almost always show up as themes across your life. But they’re hard to catch in real time — unless you track them.

That’s when the Notes app stops being just a place to jot things down and starts becoming a manifestation tool. Below, I’ll walk you through exactly how I set mine up — plus the ChatGPT prompt I use to go a layer deeper.

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I can’t believe I’m even writing this. January 2025, I was in a very different place.

January 2025, I had just finished the biggest year of my career. I’d been working at Google for six years and felt like I was finally getting my groove. I had successfully completed multiple projects — NYFW, Art Basel, Emily in Paris, and an ad campaign with Charli xcx and Troye Sivan.

From the outside, my career looked like a dream come true.

Internally, I was completely dysregulated. I was covered in rashes, had migraines once a month, and would wake up with tears in my eyes. My ego was beautifully stroked, but there was a small whisper inside asking for something different. Something softer.

As the year went on, I delivered countless more projects — and the ones that once felt exciting suddenly felt stale. A few months earlier, a project like the Met Gala would’ve felt like a dream come true. Now I was saying things to my team like, “the only way out is through” (yikes).

The day after the Met Gala, my body went into a high fever. I had a migraine for the rest of the week — one I couldn’t ignore. My body was desperately asking me to slow down and tune inward.

That’s when the whispers (or pings) started, and I knew it was time to reconnect with my TBM practice. To Be Magnetic had helped me solve many puzzles in my life, though I didn’t yet realize the irony of what was coming — or the role it would soon play in my career.

The first step was finding expanders.

Someone mentioned freelancing, and I went down a deep rabbit hole. What do marketing freelancers even do? Do I have the skill set? I remembered Grace Abbott, who had been TBM’s marketing director for years and someone I’d followed for a long time. I quickly signed up for her course How to Go Freelance and her Substack (both I highly recommend).

I went back and listened to Allie Carr’s episode on Expanded, where she shared how she left her corporate job to go freelance.

Then suddenly a co-worker mentioned how she used to do freelance social for Netflix and a handful of other brands. That’s when a door cracked open.

Next came unblocking.

I deeply believed Google was the best it could ever get for me. On my first day at Google, I remember asking my dad to wait in the car — just in case they had made a mistake hiring me, or it was all some elaborate prank.

I had to rewire my neural pathways to understand that Google was not the peak, it was the starting point. I was allowed to dream bigger.

Then came my reputation. I uncovered how much of my self-worth was tangled up in external validation. I had been using Google as a crutch: If I worked this big, fancy job, then I was inherently worthy. Admiration had become a shortcut to belonging.

I really went through it. I uncovered deep wounds, shadows, and worst-case scenarios — and I sat with them until they loosened their grip.

Before I knew it, I was taking aligned action.

One morning, after a Deep Imagining, a thought dropped in: What’s the worst thing that can happen? I picked up my phone and DM’d Jessica Gill, Chief Content Officer for TBM. The message was simple — just a few sentences. I shared my background and asked if she’d be open to a meeting.

A few hours later, she replied.

Riding that momentum, I DM’d another creator I deeply admired - Elizabeth Endres of The Wellness Process. She responded the next morning.

Within a week, I had signed both clients. A month later, I quit my job at Google.

Sometimes change is slow. Other times, it happens so quickly you barely realize your life has shifted.

Now, I’m sitting here writing this across from my husband. I haven’t had a migraine in months. My rashes are exponentially better.

And this week, I’m a guest on the Expanded podcast — the very show I once listened to while quietly wondering if a different life was possible.

I wake up every morning with an overwhelming sense of gratitude — for my body, for my intuition, and for myself.

For having the courage to listen.
For trusting the whisper.
For taking the leap.