THE SLOW DEATH OF THE DO-ER
Just the other day, I found myself striving again.
Doing all the right things. Staying aligned. Showing up.
And still—feeling stuck.
Unrewarded.
Not enough.
That familiar ache returned:
What more do you need from me?
What can I do to finally be enough?
And then came the real kizuki—the seeing:
This wasn’t about effort.
This was about powerlessness.
Not the poetic kind.
The kind the ego fights.
Because it means surrendering not just control, but the identity of the one who controls.
I saw her—the do-er in me.
Still trying.
Even trying to surrender.
But true surrender isn’t something you do.
Because what needs to be surrendered…
is the do-er herself.
That realization broke something open.
And in the quiet that followed, I saw the whole spiral unfold—again.
Here’s what it looks like, step by step:
1. Identify
You believe you’re the one making it all happen. The do-er. The driver.
You think, If I just do it right, it will work.
2. Enmesh
You pour your energy into effort. Into control.
You’re in it deep—and you don’t even know you’ve left the flow.
3. Agonize
You suffer.
It’s not working. Not landing. Not unfolding as you hoped.
You feel abandoned. Defeated.
4. Reach
You search for a new perspective.
You whisper, Help me see this differently.
Not because you’re wise—but because you’re exhausted.
5. See
A moment of clarity arrives.
You realize how tightly you’ve been gripping.
You see the illusion: My way. My timing. My control.
6. Remember
You soften.
You remember: I am not the one in charge here.
There’s a greater flow.
You were never separate from it.
7. Return
You rest.
Not because it’s all fixed,
but because you’ve laid down the fight.
You’ve returned to what is.
It sounds messy, right?
That’s because it is.
But this is the spiral.
Not failure. Not backsliding.
Just another turn upward.
And even if it feels like you’re back in the same place—
you’re not.
You’re seeing it sooner.
Softening deeper.
Remembering faster.
That’s the miracle.
Even when I don’t bounce back quickly,
even when I stay in the fog longer than I’d like—
if I emerge softer,
then something in me has shifted.
And that softness?
That’s how I know I’m safe in my own being again.
No proving. No pushing.
Just this:
Letting the do-er lay down her tools.
And letting the soul breathe.
Prefer to listen? This entry is also a podcast—listen here.