I’m done diluting my work

For the first time, my worth doesn’t feel tied to whether it’s palatable to others.

I’ve always found it difficult to explain what I do.

Struggled to find the words that truly align with the depth of the work.

As a writer, for whom words mean so much, who feels seen, heard, witnessed and expressed with them…not having the words for your purpose felt really unsteady.

Even when I was “business coaching”… because even then, my work was never really about the business anyway.

When I moved out of that realm and more into spiritual guidance, the friction only increased. The word coaching started giving me the ick. But at least people understood it. At least it was consumable.

The more the friction increased, the more I fought with it for god knows how long. It truly impacted the grounding and confidence I felt in my own work.

Inside sessions or workshops, I’d be in another frequency altogether. Completely in my jam. Almost in a trance state. So aligned with the soul and whatever wanted to come through. Most of the time, I wouldn’t even remember what I said once I stepped out.

But outside that container?

Different story.

Last month, I went to my best friend’s wedding. A month before that, I had received the invitation.

Under her name, she had written: Reiki Healer and Transformation Coach.

It got under my skin deeper than I expected.

I already knew how confident she was in herself and her work, but seeing it printed there like that stumped me. I realised I would have probably frozen if I were in that place. There was no way I’d have had the courage to declare my work so openly.

And yet… somewhere in that moment, she deeply inspired me. Almost like she unknowingly gave me permission to be myself.

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Then a few weeks ago, I was at another family friend’s function. I was gelling along with the women there, not fully vibing, but weirdly comfortable. And yet, I was bracing.

I’m always bracing for that question, I realise now. It’s the most ridiculously painfully common question, isn’t it?

“So what do you do?”

My body goes into autopilot.

“I help service-based entrepreneurs set up their first businesses.”

It’s my safety cushion. A version people can digest. A tiny aspect of what I actually do, but palatable enough. Clean enough. Understandable enough.

And every single time I say it, something in me feels smaller. A weird numbing, disassociating sensation comes through. Like I’m not “me” anymore.

Weird, because in most areas of my life, I genuinely don’t give too many fucks about what people think. I stand in my power easily. At least now, with years of working on myself, surrendering and trusting more.

But with this? My nervous system goes on a full rollercoaster. So hyper-aware of everything that I’d forget my own power.

This time, though, after giving the safe answer, I somehow felt the impulse to add more. Probably because I remembered that I’m practising putting myself out there more and more… one step, one day at a time… like exposure therapy. Probably because I remembered my friend putting those words in her invitation. Probably because I’m just fucking exhausted and didn’t wanna hide anymore…

I went on to add the spiritual layer.

Instantly, my heart sped up. Mind went blank. Like someone switched off the tap of thoughts. I suddenly felt like I had to be succinct, perfect, like an elevator pitch. Like I needed more time to explain…if only someone gave me more time to sit down and explain the whole process.

Anyways…I stumbled through the whole thing (it all got over in a span of seconds, even if it seemed eons). They all nodded their heads, smiling, and one of them responded with: “Oh… like psychotherapy?”

Ppphheewww. Close enough. Progress.

At that moment, I decided not to push further. To correct them. To over-explain. To prove credibility or legitimacy. The conversation then continued, the attention shifting away from me.

And here’s what mattered.

I didn’t run.

No digging myself into the ground. No beet-red face. No spiralling shame. No internal collapse.

Just a quiet steadiness.

Tiny, almost non-noticeable. But solid.

For the first time, it didn’t feel like my worth was hanging in the balance of whether they fully understood me or not.

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This didn’t happen overnight, though.

There were years of trying to force-fit something sacred into language that wasn’t built for it.

Years of watching people put “Certified XYZ Practitioner” or having gorgeous, specific as hell bios on their LinkedIn or Twitter profiles and feeling cringe and envy at the same time. Cringe because I knew my work couldn’t be boxed like that. Envy because I wished I could just point to a certificate and say, “See? Legit.”

The marketing world didn’t help either.

Everything had to be simplified. A niche, consumable, replicable methodology with a defined start and end. Clear bullet points of what the person would receive. A neat acronym. [Why does everyone need a fucking acronym??!! Like why???]

And my work is none of that.

It’s chaotic, intuitive and depends entirely on the moment, the nervous system in front of me, and the energy in the room.

One session is never like another. One client’s journey is never like another's.

There is no fixed framework I can repeat on demand.

For a long time, that terrified me.

Because I thought seriousness and credibility meant structure and predictability. “Your clients should know what exactly they’re going to receive Shruthi.” my coach would say. I felt like screaming until his eardrums tore at that point.

I thought I had to dilute myself to become palatable.

I really tried.

I tried to create offers I could repeat.
Tried to have a website structure that people could instantly get within 3 milliseconds.
Tried to box myself into the perfect bio, tagline, introduction and whatnot.

My soul kept saying, fuck no.
I felt like puking most of the time. Either that or the pain in my chest increased to catastrophic levels.

Yet…I kept fighting it (I feel like bitch slapping and hugging the hell out of the old Shruthi at the same time)

Until I grew out of the fight. Until I couldn’t do that shit anymore.

Until something from deep inside me screamed STOP.

It wasn’t a one-day transformation, but after that moment, within the next few months, slowly and surely, something clicked inside, forever settling down: I was done with diluting myself to make my work palatable for others.

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Image created by author using AI

Here’s what I know for sure.

When someone works with me, it feels like a lotus field.

The soul in front of me is like a lotus bud in the centre. Closed. But bright as hell yellow + white light emanating from within.

Right now, that light is shrouded by layers of petals.

We peel them. Petal by petal. Layer by layer.

At first, the light only slips through cracks. Here and there. Opening and closing cause of the wind (there’s, of course, wind, dummy).

Then it begins to spill. Fully. Without Abandon. Unstoppable.

Until the person remembers. Recognises, interacts with, sinks into and breathes into their power. (That’s our fundamental journey, isn’t it?)

The best part? When their light shines, it gives the lotuses around them permission to loosen too.

That’s what actually happens.

I work primarily with neurodivergent, highly sensitive souls who have already spiritually awakened… but are in the early stages of that remembering. The in-between phase. The shedding identities phase. The “I can’t go back but I don’t fully know forward” phase.

That’s the field.

There’s no step-by-step process for that.

No fixed container or predictable arc.

Even my pricing reflects this.

I don’t set my prices based on market research or what others are charging. The numbers just arrive unexpectedly. It’s hard to explain.

Sometimes I’ve slashed my prices to a quarter of what they were.

Sometimes I’ve increased them by fifty per cent.

It goes both ways.

Precision and alignment of the soul play the game.

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This clarity definitely didn’t occur overnight.

Last year, after trying to box myself up for so long, I went to the other side of the spectrum. I needed it too.

I didn’t let anything box me up. I felt free for the first time, just allowing myself to not have words for my work. I was also working only with a few souls here and there who found me randomly on Substack and through referrals.

Then, somewhere in October/November last year, I experienced a quantum leap where money had completely gone out of my WHY, and I’m now sitting with the question: “What’s my purpose, the point of my work, if money isn’t involved at all?”

I haven’t found all the pieces yet. They’re still loitering around. It’s more of images and feelings right now. And I know they will land at the right time.

Looking back on the last few years, I believe everything that happened was truly supposed to happen. I don’t believe I could have gotten this level of clarity if I hadn’t gone through the journey of gaining that confidence, trust and ability to surrender & let go of the how first.

I can feel it in my bones that the pieces will make complete sense quite soon, and it’s going to be intense. Not in the old way. Like filled with dopamine hits, adrenaline rush, stimulation or whatnot. But in a new way…more subtle, more layered, more structured, but so much more powerful because the foundations are layered now.