a song I am loving:
Today, my sister-in-law asked if I would ever return to my diving career.
For anyone who does not know my story, I was a diving professional for over a decade.
Don’t get me wrong yet.
I loved it so much.
It was literally the best job ever.
For others, it was the exotic vacation of a lifetime; for me, it was another regular day in the paradise I called home. Being a diving instructor has given me the opportunity to live in countries I could not have imagined for myself a few decades ago.
Palau, México, New Zealand, and the Maldives— where I had spent most of my professional life.
On top of it, I was also damn good at my job.
I had the best team in the world. We complemented one another. We laughed, we joked, we argued, we disagreed, but we never lost sight of one another as a team. Till this day, they have not stopped asking me to come back.
I had guests from all over the world visiting the resort I was in just to see and dive with me again. Many entrusted their kids to me. I still have students with whom I am in touch this today. I had multiple students who returned over the years just to learn and pursued their scuba diving education. Some still send me photos of their recent dives and boast about how well of a diver they are today. I had guests telling me all the time that they could tell I was truly passionate about my job, and that witnessing me in my element in the water was a breath of fresh air, magnetic and inspirational. I was excellent at guiding and I also did a lot of doing. I also had a little family that stretched my rubber band on what romantic love and kinship felt like. (My ex and I shared a macaw who passed in March last year, you can read about him here)
And that was why saying goodbye to that life was the hardest thing I had to do.
I left not because my profession and environment were challenging. I left not because I was bad at my job or because I was no longer passionate about it.
Rather, it was quite the contrary.
I loved it so much.
But the truth was, it was not the only thing I was good at.
Deep down, I knew it was no longer aligned with what I truly desired.
I knew I deserved so, so much more.
Just because something is easy doesn’t mean you have to keep doing it.
I left because staying was easy. And the safety of stagnancy was heavier than the fear of change itself.
Making that decision to leave all of these, going ALL IN, throwing caution to the wind, befriending uncertainty head-on… doing it completely alone, packing my life in multiple luggage, moving across the globe AGAIN… saying goodbye to the very life I carried as my identity for over a decade was single-handedly the hardest thing I had to do.
The truth was, I had outgrown that old identity. I bade goodbye to this old identity over a year ago.
That old Sylvia.
And the truth was, it had very little to do with me being decked out in a bikini all day, having sun-kissed skin, living a simple and sweet island life, or the number of sharks, turtles, and rays I get to swim with on a weekly basis, or the Maldives’ breathtaking sunsets. It had nothing to do with my career really. (because yes, your identity is more than your job!).
It was that version of me with her unique set of thoughts, belief systems, dominant emotional states, and curated aligned actions.
I had outgrown her.
No, this clarity did not unfold overnight.
The outgrowth happened steadily over time. It existed in the little moments I catch myself in a loop of what if(s). It reaffirmed itself when I chose a different response to a recurring situation. It happened when I sat alone long enough with myself, a journal, and a pen. It happened when I courageously admitted to the person in the mirror that I was no longer the same person as I was.
The refusal to feel reduced by my circumstances and external reality. The self-permission to choose differently. The self-permission to trust the leap before feeling fully ready.
Because are we ever fully ready? Like really?
Last autumn, an old Maldivian friend and I caught up over the phone. During the call, he told me he felt I missed my old life and that I did not sound very happy in my current one. Of which I disagreed politely. He then mentioned that I had changed profoundly and that he could not quite string words together for it yet.
To this day, it remains one of my biggest compliments.
About Projections In The Face Of Change, And The Mirror You Become
The truth is, there will always be people from your old identity who feel confronted by your change. They may question your choices. Maybe even minimize your growth, romanticize the “old you,” or frame your expansion as impractical, selfish, or risky.
They were used to your predictability.
What felt familiar.
Because that felt familiar to their nervous system.
This is because your courage and assertion quietly confront the stories they are still burying within themselves. Your new level of ease can feel like judgment to someone who is still efforting in life. Your boundaries can feel like rejection to someone who relied on your over-giving and self-abandoning self. Your new level of Certainty and expansion of Self can feel threatening to someone who has postponed looking at their own.
They feel contracted by your expansion.
There is no right and wrong in this.
There is no right and wrong if one chooses to remain the same, and if one chooses to level up, dig deeper, and carry the self-permission for an upgrade.
What matters is what you decide for yourself.
When you stepped out of your old identity and shifted energetically, this shift is most palpable with your relationships. Let these relationships reorient organically without losing the integrity you have earned by doing your inner and Self-Concept work.
I hope you’ll enjoy the ode I have written to my old self below.
An Ode To My Old Self — The Disempowered Projector
To the one who kept saying yes when she meant no.
To the one who thought over-giving would earn her a place at the table or the affection she deeply yearned for.
To the one who prided herself on her productivity as a badge of honor.
To the one who mistook exhaustion for Success and identified rejection as her worth.
To the one who tried to keep up with the endless hum of energy around her,
never realizing her rhythm was designed to move differently, that it was never about keeping up or fitting in, but standing out.
To the one who assumed self-protection over self-allowance growing up, never realizing she never really allowed herself to ever receive.
To the one who eventually realizes that the exhaustion and pushing were not normal, that waiting for recognition does not equate to waiting in despair. That her body held all the clues, if she had listened more intently. That if she listened, she would realize that she was designed to move differently, to guide, not to grind.
To the one who waited — not in power, but in despair, not in empowerment, but in resignation. Who thought waiting meant she was forgotten, or late, or too slow,
who thought she had to speak louder, do more, command the room, so she would be chosen, loved and heard.
To the one who tries to do everything on her own, because being resourced means being indebted.
To the one who avoided the mirror of her own healing,
who filled her hours with distractions, borrowed narratives, and excuses,
because change felt heavier than staying the same.
I honor you. I honor all of you.
You did not know another way.
You were surviving the only way you could.
You did not know another way because no one showed you a glimpse of what another reality could look like.
But I no longer live with you.
I have lovingly outgrown you.
I have learned rest is not laziness, but a sacredness, and sensitivity is not a weakness but a gift.
I have learned my worth was never tied to output.
I have learned that waiting can feel equally soft, fun, playful and flourishing, not depleting.
I have learned that waiting is a refinement towards correct and aligned interactions and recognition that is meant for me.
I have learned that I am not for everyone.
I have learned to let my aura work its magic rather than letting the reins of my mind get in the way.
I have learned to say yes to a waiting that looks different in every season of my life.
I have learned that what is correct for me may not make sense to the world, and I listen to it anyway.
I have learned to say yes to myself before saying yes to the world.
You brought me here at a time when I needed to learn, to grow, to expand, and now I release you.
I can take it from here now, my love.
With gratitude. With love. With remembrance.
Love, your future self.
Know that if any parts of this ode feel familiar to you, know that you are not alone, and you are not behind. Change will forever be so confrontational. Resistance is meant to be overcome.
I will always honor the Sylvia I once was and hold so much compassion for her.
And you can too— this is the energy of the space I created inside The Projector Remembrance (TPR) program.
A space to soften into healing, dismantle the old patterns that no longer serve you, align yourself with your unique Projector divinity, be witnessed and held in sisterhood.
The Projector Remembrance (TPR) is a 12-week, small-group Projector mentoring container.
Centering around the technology of Human Design and Neuroscience,
TPR is for soul-led Projector women who hold the readiness to wholeheartedly uplevel, ground in their Projector resiliency, and expand their confidence in their Projector divinity alongside an empowered Projector women community.
Rooted in: differentiation-first | community | practical embodiment
To decondition, to heal, and realign with our divinity together.
Alternatively, if you are seeking deeply focused insights, support, and differentiated guidance that is substantial and paced for a Projector, my bespoke 1:1 Projector mentorship Shui, may be for you. I only work privately with a few Projectors during each quarter of the year.
Resonate with this piece? Read the rest here:
Unearthing Projectorhood | Musings of a Projector
A safe space dedicated for Projectors like us to feel seen, live from recognition,
and not the hustle anymore.
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Sylvia, I treasure your writing. It is rare to read the words of someone who unapologetically knows themself and isn't afraid to share their story. I've been catching up on your blog posts and find your writing beautiful and real. Also, I know it is cheesy, but it is an inspiration to read about your growth. Those photos of Maldives are gorgeous, but I completely understand that inner voice that says "there is more".