Remembering Soul-The Practice of Living Self-Sovereignly

Part 4: Pathway to Self-Sovereignty: Reclaiming Your Freedom from Within

by Katie Simons, PharmD, BCPS

Most of us were taught—explicitly and implicitly—that everything we need lies outside of us.

We learn it in school, where answers are only “right” if they match what is in the textbook. We learn it in church, where authority and salvation rest in scripture, clergy, and God as a separate being. We learn it in medicine, where the body is a machine and the doctor knows best. We learn it at work, where value is earned through performance. We learn it in relationships, where belonging is conditionally based on fulfilling the expectations of others.

Nearly every system we are integrated into in culture and society reinforces the same idea: you are not the authority on you.

This is the paradigm of codependency that we are all indoctrinated in—not just in relationships, but as a self-view and worldview. A belief that we must earn love, that we must seek truth outside ourselves, that we are fundamentally ignorant and inadequate until proven otherwise. And it runs deep.

But something happens when we begin to turn inward—when we stop outsourcing our worth, our wellness, our wisdom—and start listening instead. To the subtle cues of the body. To the emotions that rise and fall like tides. To the deeper voice beneath the noise—the one that doesn’t speak in fear or performance, but in knowing.

We begin to remember: I am not ignorant. I am not broken. I am not separate. I am whole. I am innately intelligent. I am wise and worthy. I am held and loved. 

The journey to self-sovereignty is a return to that remembering. It’s not about becoming someone new—it’s about unbecoming everything we were taught to be in order to survive. It’s about grounding into the body, reclaiming emotional intelligence, and reconnecting with the individuated, interdependent self—the wise, whole essence beneath the noise.

And this path? This journey of self-exploration. Of “Who am I? And why am I here?” The full embrace of our human experience—emotion, body, intuition, freedom—is what I call spirituality.

Spirituality isn’t about transcending the human experience. It’s not about light and love as a bypass for pain. True spirituality is living life fully and wholly from the inside out—with awareness, presence, vulnerability, and the courage to be fully here. To feel it all. To move with it. To live in integrity with our higher consciousness. Our Soul.

Because when we stop outsourcing our truth and start embodying it, we don’t just heal—we become free.

The Real Question: “Who Am I?”

I remember the first time I sincerely sat with the question, “Who am I?”

Not as a surface-level question, not in the “tell me about yourself” kind of way. But in a moment of quiet reckoning. Everything I thought defined me—my career, my personality, my relationships, my roles—had either shifted, collapsed, or stopped feeling like mine. And so there I was, stripped of the usual answers, staring into the void of that question like it might swallow me.

Who am I, really?

At first, I tried to answer it with my mind. I went through the inventory of personality traits, belief systems, even astrology placements. But nothing quite landed as a complete answer. Everything I could name felt…limiting. Like trying to trap who I am into a series of little, neatly categorized bento boxes—conveniently sectioned off for the palatability of everyone else. 

That was when it clicked: The question is bigger than the one asking it.

The egoic mind wants a concrete answer. It wants to file the self into categories. To know, to define, to lock down—and through the process of defining, creates an illusion of you separate from the world. But the Soul isn’t interested in being defined or separate. It’s not interested in identity at all. It’s a presence. A pulse of life force. A felt sense that lives underneath the stories and beyond the labels, and the full scope of it is too large for our egoic minds to comprehend. 

And so the answer to “Who am I?” isn’t a sentence. It’s a sensation. It’s ineffable. 

It’s that deep, still place we feel as beingness. The part of us that watches our thoughts without getting caught in them. The voice that speaks not in words but in knowing. It’s the I am that existed before anyone told us who we should and should not be.

That is the Soul.

The Soul doesn’t need to be constructed—it already is. It is the thread of aliveness that’s been with us since the beginning. The part of us that remembers. The I am that is connected to and part of all that is. The I am that is Divine. 

And to know the Soul is to begin to know consciousness.

Not the consciousness that simply means “awake” or “alert,” but the field of awareness that sees without judgment. The presence that exists beyond thought and emotion. The part of us that can witness a feeling arise without becoming it. That can watch a narrative play out without getting swept into it.

Consciousness is not what we think—it’s who we are.

We often confuse consciousness with our mental chatter. But the mind is a tool within consciousness, not the source of it. We can observe our thoughts because we are not our thoughts. We can feel our emotions because we are not our emotions. We can question our beliefs because we are not our beliefs. The part of us doing the observing—that’s consciousness.

And the more time we spend there, the more we realize how much of our life has been lived from identification with the surface. With roles, responsibilities, narratives. With parts of self built to keep us safe, loved, and accepted. With the ego, which—while not inherently bad—has no interest in truth. It only wants to protect.

But the Soul has no need to protect because the Soul knows exactly who it is and what it is here to be. When we are aware of our fear and listening to our Soul, we realize we can choose alignment over self-protection. 

When we begin to shift from ego-led living to Soul-aligned presence, the experience of life changes. We begin to live from wholeness rather than defense. We begin to feel life rather than think it. We move from reaction to response. From proving to being.

This is why the journey of self-sovereignty is a spiritual one. Because reclaiming our inner authority—our ability to know and trust ourselves—requires reconnecting with consciousness. It requires remembering that we are not just minds or bodies, but vessels for awareness. For presence. For life itself.

And when we live from that place—not perfectly, but intentionally—we start to taste real freedom. Not the kind that comes from getting everything “right,” but the kind that comes from being fully here.

Becoming Who You Are: Authenticity, Individuation & Confidence

It’s one thing to ask “Who am I?”
It’s another to live the answer.

For most of us, the process of remembering who we truly are isn’t about adding more—it’s about stripping away. Unlearning who we were told to be. Peeling off the expectations, the projections, the survival strategies that helped us fit in, stay safe, or feel loved. Beneath all of that is something quieter, truer, and deeply you.

That’s where authenticity lives.

Authenticity is your ability to show up in alignment with ourself and our values—even when it goes against the grain of what others expect. It doesn’t mean sharing everything or never feeling fear. It means staying connected to our truth and acting from that place, moment by moment. It’s a lived practice of self-honoring.

Authenticity is a mindful practice of self-awareness and embracing who we truly are. It requires and demands— 

Belief that we are enough exactly how we are,
Vulnerability of not meeting all expectations,
Availability to set boundaries,
Exercising compassion for the messiness of life,
Courage to keep showing up and wrestling with shame and fear, and
Confidence to align with one’s values.

Each of these points holds topics worth unpacking, but for this article, I want to focus simply on self-awareness. 

Most of us operate with so much conditioning, we have no idea what we actually believe, what we value, or what we want. The work of self-awareness that is a prerequisite to true authenticity is that of individuation. 

Individuation is the process of returning to wholeness. It’s not about becoming someone new—it’s about reclaiming and reintegrating the parts of self we’ve hidden away from the world (and often ourselves)—suppressed, exiled, and projected out of fear, shame, or pain. This process is an imperative step when moving from codependency—where all resources and answers are external to us—to individuality—where we acknowledge our own innate intelligence and capabilities—to interdependence—where we relate in community. 

The infant who was ignored and left to cry themselves asleep. The child who was bullied or abused and made to feel like they don’t belong in this world. The child who was constantly punished and felt their existence was inacceptable. misplaced, and unloved. The teenager who felt they could do nothing right. The internal manager who tries desperately to be perfect, to plan out every step, to anticipate every outcome, to control life and everyone in it. The ego self who acts like he knows everything or like she can’t do anything by herself in order to protect. This narrative can look like so many different things, as we all have our own individual experience, and all of these parts and pieces of self play out a role unconsciously until we bring them to awareness and love them back into the whole. 

As we meet and reintegrate these parts, we begin to feel something shift. A kind of grounded clarity. A deep, embodied knowing: I know who I am.

Not because someone told us. Not because we figured it all out. But because we feel it—through our body, our breath, our presence. We become whole not by force, but by reunion. And the Soul supports all of this work, waiting patiently.

And from that wholeness, confidence begins to grow.

Real confidence isn’t flashy. It’s not about being right or having it all together. It’s humble. Grounded. Steady. It’s the sense of being okay exactly as you are—even when everything is uncertain. It’s the ability to stay open with curiosity, knowing we’ll never have all the answers, and that’s okay. Because life isn’t about being perfect. It’s about being real.

When we live with authenticity, honor our wholeness, and embody confidence—not as performance but as honest presence—we start to move through life differently. We stop chasing external validation and begin listening inward. We stop outsourcing who we are and start living it.

This is what makes space for the Soul to lead.

The Courage to Be Seen: Vulnerability as a Portal

I feel we cannot go further into this topic without acknowledging the felt sense of it. The deeper we go into self-discovery, the more truth we uncover. But truth alone isn’t the hardest part. The hardest part is choosing to live that truth. To be seen in it. To speak it. To hold it. To stay with it even when it shakes the structures around us and how people perceive us.

And that takes vulnerability.

We live in a world that teaches us to fit in, not to be fully seen. And if we are going to be seen, well you best have your sword and shield ready! So the moment we start living from authenticity—vulnerably honoring our values, setting boundaries, reclaiming our voice—it can feel like we’re breaking some unspoken rule. And in many ways, we are.

Because this isn’t just healing. This is a paradigm shift. And it takes real courage to walk away from what once felt like safety—even when it was costing us our wholeness.

When I first started the process of individuation—of reclaiming my authenticity—it felt incredibly vulnerable. I left an influential healthcare career to take a part-time job at a cannabis dispensary. Not because I didn’t care about serving Veterans, but because I had become disenchanted with the healthcare system, and my nervous system was fried. I couldn’t keep pouring my energy into a system that didn’t work anymore—not for patients, and not for me.

It was a bold move, but it didn’t feel bold. It felt exposed. Dangerous, even. Like I was walking away from everything I had worked so hard for—that had once given me identity and approval—and toward something much less certain, but far more honest. It was a deep step towards alignment. And it felt vulnerable as hell.

It also felt vulnerable to begin writing about and working in the field of psychedelics as healing tools. I knew if anyone from the medical world saw it, my reputation could be shot. Years of degrees and credentials, gone in a click. And yet, staying silent felt like betraying the truth I had come to know in my bones.

It felt vulnerable to stop partying and going out dancing every weekend. And yes—some friends stopped inviting me to hang out. I became “boring.” But I was learning to stay home with myself. To feel. To rest. To be present with what actually mattered.

And even now, it feels vulnerable to write about Soul. To use the word. To speak about spirituality, knowing how many people roll their eyes and label it “woo-woo.” But this is what’s real for me. And the more I share it, the more I hear people whisper back: Me too.

It’s vulnerable to say, “This is who I am,” when it might disappoint others. It’s vulnerable to set boundaries—not from defense, but from love. To say, “This is where I end and you begin. This is mine, and that is yours.” And to hold those lines with compassion, clarity, and consistency.

Because it’s easier to keep performing. It’s easier to keep pleasing. It’s easier to keep pretending we don’t feel what we feel or know what we know. It’s easier to keep everyone at a distance, so they can’t see you, really see you. But courage is what allows us to choose differently—to stand rooted in our truth even when it’s uncomfortable. Even when it can change everything.

Vulnerability isn’t about collapsing or overexposing. It’s about staying open while being seen in truth. It is a raw state, to say the least.

Courage doesn’t always look brave. Sometimes it looks like trembling while telling the truth. Like honoring a “no” when a “yes” would be easier. Like saying “I love you. And my experience is different from yours.” Like staying soft and open while holding your ground.

That’s the edge we walk in self-sovereignty. And yes, it’s tender. But it’s also where real freedom lives.

Vulnerability is the heartbeat of this entire process. Without it, self-sovereignty becomes isolation. With it, we become whole, open, and free. Able to meet life and others as we are, and hold space as others do the same.

Reclaiming Spirituality & Belonging

I grew up in a very Christian household. I was taught that I was a sinner—unworthy and inherently broken—and that my only salvation came through belief in Jesus Christ as the son of God. Spirituality, I was told, was belief in the God described in the Bible. And for a long time, I believed it deeply. I prayed. I repented. I tried to be good. I tried to belong.

But, ironically, belief doesn’t always lead to belonging—even though the desire to belong is often what drives us to believe in the first place.

As I began to grow into myself—especially into my femininity and sensuality—I started to feel the cracks. When I became curious about my body and desire, I lost friends. When I stopped performing the role of the “good Christian girl,” I was met with shame and shunning.

I saw the hypocrisy in the teachings I had once clung to. The same people preaching love and grace were the ones who withdrew theirs when I stepped outside the lines. So I left. And I didn’t walk—I ran.

I shut the door on religion, on church, and on anything labeled “spiritual.”  The God I had known and prayed to was dead to me. I felt betrayed—not just by a religion, but by the idea of a God who was supposed to love me unconditionally and instead withheld presence and love unless I played by the rules. The betrayal of a community that had promised belonging and doled out shame. That kind of betrayal cuts deep. And I carried that anger for years.

Unfortunately, I’ve come to see that this kind of spiritual trauma is incredibly common. Many of us were taught that our Soul not only isn’t us but also doesn’t belong to us—that it belongs to some Sky Daddy up in the clouds and is something we have to earn back through fear and obedience. We were taught that the divine was out there, and that we were separate from it. And so we shut down the most sacred parts of ourselves.

But the truth is: We are not separate, and we never were. 

If there’s a word for “God,” it might just be Everything. Nature. The universe. The spark of life itself. Gaia. Source. And You—You are not apart from it. You are it. An expression of life. A unique strand in the web of it all.

When I finally gave myself permission to believe that—when I allowed myself to feel it—I experienced a kind of homecoming. Not to a religion, but to myself. I no longer needed to reach outside to feel held. I no longer needed to perform for belonging. I could finally experience myself just as I am. Not in opposition to the Divine, but as an expression of it. I simply am. And that is enough.

Dr. Brené Brown, in her research on belonging, says that true belonging doesn’t require us to change who we are—it requires us to be who we are. She also found that a deep sense of spirituality—defined simply as believing in and feeling connected to something greater than ourselves—is one of the most consistent traits of people who experience true belonging.

That something greater isn’t a deity. It doesn’t come with rules or robes or rituals. It simply can be the intelligence of nature. The rhythm of our breath. The quiet sense that we are part of something vast and loving and innately wise. 

This, to me, is spirituality. Not dogma or doctrine. Just the lived, embodied experience of being fully here, awake in our body, our heart, our knowing. Exploring who we are and experiencing our humanity fully. To feel it all. To belong to yourself. To be part of the whole planet and universe. 

Reclaiming our connection to our Soul is just as deeply human as it is spiritual. When we begin to live from our Soul—from that place of presence and truth—we stop needing permission to exist. We stop trying to earn love. We stop outsourcing our worth. We belong. Not to a group, or an institution, or a story. But to ourselves. And through that, to everything else.

Intuition: Listening to the Soul’s Wisdom

As I have mentioned in the previous articles, the most consistent internal messaging we receive prior to doing this body of work is fear. From a young age, we’re trained to seek answers outside of ourselves. To look to systems, experts, authorities—anyone but our own inner knowing. This conditioning is so deep that many of us don’t even realize we’ve been taught to doubt ourselves. 

Fear programming is all we have when we are living from a place of egoic mind and disembodiment—when we believe all our answers are external to ourselves and that we cannot trust ourselves, the game of life is one of fear and self-protection. These are the shouts of the self-protective ego in our mind and nervous system. In contrast, the intuition is the whispers of knowing, and they are hard to hear over the roar of the ego.

But as we begin the work of individuation—meeting the scared, fragmented parts of self and bringing them back into wholeness—something powerful happens. We become more familiar with fear. We start to recognize it for what it is: a survival mechanism, not truth. And with that awareness comes choice. We can hold fear gently. We can quiet the mind. And in that quiet, another voice begins to emerge.

That voice is intuition.

Intuition is the calm, steady guidance of the Soul. It doesn't push. It doesn't plead. It doesn't panic. It comes through in the silence—when the nervous system is settled, the mind has softened, and the heart is open.

As Ram Dass said, “Quiet the mind, and open the heart.” Intuition speaks in that space.

It doesn't always come in words. Sometimes it’s a subtle nudge or a quiet inner ping—pick up that book, reach out to that person, go outside right now. Sometimes it’s a sudden clarity in the middle of stillness. Sometimes it’s goosebumps when we hear a truth that resonates through our whole body. It might show up as a feeling, a flash, a pull, a sense. Intuition isn’t one-size-fits-all—it speaks the language of our awareness, and it meets us where we are.

For me, the more present I am in my body, the more clearly I “hear" it. The more tuned in I am to my senses, the more available I am to receive my intuitive sense. The more I trust myself, the more available it becomes. Intuition doesn’t give me a five-year plan or a perfect outcome. It just gives me the next step. One aligned action at a time.

And that’s enough.

Practicing daily presence—meditation, embodiment, silence—is how I make space for intuition to arise. But the most important practice is trusting it, even when it’s subtle. Especially when it’s subtle.

Because intuition is not just a nice-to-have—it is the compass of self-sovereignty. It is how the Soul communicates with the conscious mind. It’s how we receive guidance that doesn’t come from fear, or logic, or conditioning, but from our own internal connection to life itself.

When we follow intuition, we are not just making decisions—we are practicing the convergence of the human and the Divine. We are listening to Soul. And in doing so, we remember that We are the source we’ve been looking for.

Everyone has intuition. But like any muscle, it must be strengthened. And like any relationship, it must be tended to. The more we individuate, the more we become whole, the more clearly we can hear it. It’s always been there. It’s just waiting for us to listen.

Living Self-Sovereignly: Passion, Purpose, and the Power to Create

To live self-sovereignly is to know oneself. To love (reunite) oneself. To trust oneself. And to take aligned action from that trust.

Everything we’ve explored—Soul, intuition, authenticity, individuation, spirituality, vulnerability—leads us to this final step: how we Live. How we create a life that feels meaningful, purposeful, and alive.

The truth is, life itself is inherently meaningless. Nothing outside of us bestows meaning on our experience. Meaning is something we create—moment by moment—through the choices we make and the energy we bring.

And who better to create that meaning than the one who came here to live it?

Your Soul didn’t come here to meet expectations or follow a script. It came here to experience. To feel. To grow. To create. And it is your responsibility—your privilege—to choose what gives that experience meaning.

And we do that by following your authentic passion.

Not the passion sold to you in a career test. Not the passion your parents hoped for. Not the one that gains the most approval or makes the most money. But the thing that lights you up from the inside. The thing that calls to you even when it doesn’t make sense. The thing that makes you feel a thing, that feels like truth in your body.

And here’s the key: Follow it with courage.

Because living with passion doesn’t mean living without fear. It means taking aligned action even in the face of fear. It means moving forward not because it’s easy, but because it’s true.

When we follow our passion with self-trust, we create purpose. And that purpose doesn’t come from outside of us. It comes from us. That’s what it means to live as a sovereign being:

To trust your Soul as the source of meaning.
To choose your direction.
To live in alignment with your own inner compass.

When we hand this responsibility over to external sources—to systems, relationships, or roles—we disconnect from ourselves. We end up unfulfilled, restless, chasing a sense of purpose and happiness that will never come from out there.

But when we remember who we are, when we reclaim our wholeness, when we honor what moves us—we start to live from the inside out. We live presently. We live on purpose. We live free.

And from that place, we can truly connect.

Because Self-Sovereignty is not about isolation. It’s not about doing life alone. It’s about creating meaningful, interdependent relationships—from wholeness, not need. It’s about co-creating a new reality—not from wounded roles, but from embodied truth.

This is how we rework the world. We don’t fix it from the outside in. We don’t rework the systems first.

We become whole. We walk with courage. We follow what lights us up.

And we create something beautiful—Together.