A big update

...and an invitation

I'm sending this email out on all 3 of my newsletters — Satori Soliloquies, Letters from June, and Align by Design. If you're a subscriber to all 3... you’ll see this 3 times.

I have news—I'm pivoting.

Change is imminent.

Over the past year, so much has changed in my inner and outer realities. I have lost so much and at the same time, gained. I've lost material things, stability, relatives, relationships. But I've gained more resilience, humility, gratitude, and strength.

I've also gained clarity. Clarity on what I want to continue giving my energy to, and what I do not.

As many of you know, I am a mother of 5. If you're not a parent, or don't know any, it's hard to convey just how heavy that responsibility can feel.

It's compounded when you are carrying it on your own, on top of other obligations, pressures, and struggles.

For me, this has meant that a lot of my most beloved projects and passions have gotten left behind.

I haven't written an Align by Design installment in months.

I have been actively avoiding posting in Satori Soliloquies because I am in the thick of some really heavy grief and trauma that just hasn’t been processed enough to bring wisdom I can share with those who might benefit from it.

In truth, I haven't had much time to write anyway — between my medical job, school pickups and drop-offs, dinner, bath times, hair wash days, grad school, and household chores.

And the guilt for that has been palpable.

It's truly a shame, because writing is my passion. It keeps me up at night, thinking about all the things I want to explore, research, and write about.

Not to mention, one of my biggest goals is to make this a career — as a freelance copywriter, and as an author.

So, something has to give.

I'm making a decision to focus on the most relevant and exciting things happening in my life right now. Doing this prioritizes what's important and keeps the fire alive at the same time.

For those of you who don't know, I recently started a GoFundMe for my family. We have been going through some financial struggles — and, honestly, general struggles as a family together. Keeping my head above water became too much to bear, and I finally listened to those around me who had been telling me to ask my community for help.

If you feel called, this is the link to our fundraiser.

So far, there have been twenty-six donations, and I am floored. Not just because it means my car note will be paid and I can continue working — but because this has shown me a few things:

One—that it's okay to ask for help, and that there are people who want to help you. As a hyper-independent person, you can fool yourself into believing that no one cares about what you're going through, that you could fall off the face of the planet and no one would notice. But that's just not true — even for someone as isolated as me.

I've long recognized that my hyper-independence comes from childhood wounds — needing help, asking for help, and never getting it. But embodying that awareness is a whole different story. It requires you to actually ask for help and receive it. Those wounds don’t get healed just by knowing about them.

I was reminded of this by a friend on Instagram, who literally spoke into words what was happening for me:

The fact is, I come from a long line of women who were very independent. They didn’t know how to ask for help, so they struggled in silence. I don’t ever want my daughters to experience what I have — lying in bed for hours, crying, feeling so empty and hollow because you think you have no one. Whether you do or don’t, what you believe is what is true for you.

So in a lot of ways, just the act of asking for help and putting my most vulnerable piece of content online jump-started generational healing in my family line.

This experience has awakened in me the desire to create a community for women like myself. Women who are without a village (at least in person) and who long to share their motherhood with others — but don’t have a partner or family members to do so with.

There are so many moments in motherhood where you want to look across the room, catch someone’s eye, and share in your pride for your child. But when there’s no one there, that joy turns into a longing. I don’t hear a lot of people talking about this part of (single) parenthood, but I know I can’t be the only one.

So I want to create some sort of community for women who need support. Maybe something that starts online and connects people locally. Women who deeply desire connection, who don’t have spouses or family members, and who might even travel to see each other — creating lasting bonds of friendship.

This excites me deeply.

Another thing this experience has shown me is that I do have friends. Before this, I didn’t really think of myself that way. I don’t go out, I don’t talk on the phone much, and most of my socializing is online. But when I asked for help, the first people to reach out were the ones I’ve known for years — old coworkers, old classmates, best friends from middle school. These are real people, real relationships, and they’re still worth strengthening today.

It’s truly never too late to build connections or rekindle friendships.

All of this has reminded me of something I can’t ignore anymore—the one thing that has always anchored me, even through loss, loneliness, and transition, is writing. Writing has been the thread that connects everything — my healing, my voice, my community, and even my career aspirations. When everything else feels uncertain, I can always come back to the page.

The most relevant thing happening in my life right now that’s worth writing about is… writing. My writing journey. And yes, I know — there are already a million people online writing about writing. But I don’t want to write about how much money you can make in a month as a writer. I want to write about the process of becoming one — each step, each obstacle, the imposter syndrome, building a portfolio, learning different techniques, practicing the craft. I want you to be there for it. I want you to watch me become the version of myself I know I can become.

The big changes

And so, the question is now…where do I write about this? What happens to Align by Design, and what happens to Satori Soliloquies?

From this moment forward, Satori Soliloquies will be transformed into a newsletter dedicated to encouraging, uplifting, uniting, strengthening, educating, and entertaining mothers. I have deeper aspirations for this direction. A future project is already mapped out in my mind. But for now, I’m creating a community just for mothers without villages right here on Substack. Stay tuned.

Align by Design will be put on an indefinite pause. I’ll never stop using Human Design in my life — it’s always relevant. But I cannot sustainably dedicate my energy to teaching it right now, and I will never put out teachings half-heartedly.

Letters from June will be transformed into a newsletter dedicated to sharing my journey as a writer. It will include tips on making a career change at 30, how to find writing clients, how to build a portfolio, structures and formats, writing tools, SEO, and perseverance. You’ll be coming on this journey with me, in real time.

That being said:

If you are a subscriber to Satori Soliloquies and you are not interested in what it will become, I completely understand if you unsubscribe. If you’d like to stay, you have my gratitude — and if you know a mother who might benefit, please share this newsletter with her.

If you are a subscriber to Align by Design, I encourage you to stay so that when I return to teaching Human Design, you’ll be the first to know. If you’d rather unsubscribe, I understand and I hope we meet again when the time is right.

If you are subscribed to Letters from June, you’ll know this was always about updates from my life — it’s just now expanding to include my writing journey. Hopefully you’ll stay, but if that’s not your interest, I completely understand.

I haven’t come up with new names yet, but these are where my newsletters are going.

And I only ask, and hope, that you’ll come along with me for the journey.

With love and gratitude,

June.