Embodying I Am Presence

Personal Journey Log

All day yesterday, I could feel & see old templates, imprints, thoughts, stories, projections, etc. coming up. I was being shown where my energy was being pulled – not honored or nurtured – by individuals, things, experiences. Seeing those who only reach out when they need something pop into my reality through text or social media. Where I allowed my energy to be pulled or siphoned. Where I gave my energy freely without reverence mostly from the frequency of martyrdom. Feeling the dissonance and not responding to it. Simply observing. After I left work, while driving home, I could feel it all start unraveling.

I saw glimpses of old versions of myself, people from the past, old ways of being and doing. It was like an emptying. I felt a need to cry but couldn’t release.

Then this sweet country song came on—Human by Cody Johnson. It touched my heart so deeply with the line: “I’m still learning to be human.” A bit of tears started to release but I could still feel there was something deeper that needed to be witnessed, felt, touched. ‘Deeper Love. Deeper Love. Deeper Love.’ I heard & felt this coming from my heart space.

All day and on the drive home I just witnessed, felt, and acknowledged. I didn’t try to analyze.

When I got home, my boyfriend asked how I was. I said, “I don’t know, I feel weird… like I need to cry.” After a few “I don’t know why” moments, I finally said:

“I don’t know who I am.”

And I started crying and laughing at the same time. Each time I said I didn’t know who I am more tears and laughter came.

This continued for some time. It wasn’t a short release but happened so quickly. I could feel so much moving through me. Crying and laughing, over and over. It truly felt like I was on a mushroom trip—but I was completely sober. My body felt electric. Like something was moving through me that wasn’t from this world and yet was more me than anything had ever been. It moved subtly but powerfully.

My boyfriend tried to fix it with words of comfort. But I gently said, “There’s nothing to fix.” He’s not on the same level of awareness, so he can only understand so much, but it was sweet. He stopped what he was doing and just held space. He witnessed me during this unfolding while I allowed myself to be witnessed without fear or worry of being understood or judged.

Finally, I was able to put some of it into words:

“I don’t know who I am. It’s like an unraveling of identities, labels, roles. Gone. Not me. But I’m not who I am becoming….”

I could see myself between these two frequencies. Timelines. Whatever they were.

On the left: everything I’ve been.
On the right: everything I’m stepping into.
And me… in the middle.

And it wasn’t metaphorical. I saw it. Right in front of me. Like a nebula or a galaxy that belonged to me. That is me. A personal star map I’m moving through on this journey.

And then it dropped in:
“I just Am. I Am!”

And in that moment, I felt the I Am presence course through me.

Not an idea.
Not a mantra.
It wasn’t something I said—it was something that entered me, or maybe emerged from me. I Am Code Activated.

It moved through every cell. I was the I Am, and the I Am was me. The frequency wasn’t just washing through me—it became me. It was me. I was it. I couldn’t separate where I ended and it began.

I continued to feel the unraveling. Electricity, subtly & powerfully, moving through my entire vessel. I was still laughing and crying like a crazy person—but I wasn’t scared. I was deeply aware something sacred was unfolding.

This was the first time I felt the I Am presence being embodied through me. Not an insight. Not a download. Not outside of me. Fully Embodied. Alive in my breath, my skin, my bones. My eyes closed and all I could see was this warm beautiful bright white light filling me up. Peaceful, fluid, familiar.

The next morning, I woke up feeling heavy again. Not the same as before, but dense. Integration had begun. I connected within to move out what was lingering, but there was still an ache in my right throat and shoulder. I intuitively felt it was linked to my masculine energy clearing—old patterns of doing, fixing, holding, proving. All those identities that keep us in motion, in control, in our heads.

But the I Am doesn’t operate from that place.
It doesn’t need to.

The I Am is not a thought, not a personality, not a label.
It is the divine centerpoint. The stillness. The womb of all creation.
The name of God that burns in the bush but is never consumed.

I Am that I Am.

I’ve always resonated with that phrase from the Bible. In fact, it lives on my website. It’s followed me throughout my journey like a whisper I wasn’t yet ready to fully embody. But last night, it moved through my cells.

When you touch the I Am frequency, nothing makes sense and everything does. Paradoxical – crying and laughing at once, questioning but knowing, shedding lifetimes of roles in a single breath. You stop needing to be understood. You stop performing. You stop needing to be anything.

Because in that moment,
you remember you already are.

No name.
No future self.
No spiritual persona.
Just a sovereign frequency in a human body.
Just a soul saying,
“Yes. You finally remembered.”

And now, I integrate.
I hold myself gently.
I let the ache in my right side show me what’s still softening – what I’m still holding onto.
I continue to witness, to feel, to trust.

———

And now I feel myself being called into deeper communion with the I Am presence—especially after this unraveling.

That guidance is still echoing through my field for a reason. I’ve already touched it. What happened last night wasn’t just emotional release—it was a direct encounter. A remembering.

The laughing. The crying. The dissolving of identity.
That was the I Am frequency making itself known through my body.

So what is the I Am, really?

It’s not a concept. Not a role or a name or even an affirmation.
It’s the primordial awareness. The divine presence before identity, before form, before thought.
It’s God within me—before the mind says, I am this or I am that.
It’s the eternal flame in the chest that simply is.

• The centerpoint of being—still, vast, unmoved
• The womb of creation—from which all versions of me emerge, and to which they return
• The name of God that burns in the bush yet is never consumed—I Am that I Am
• The space between the inhale and exhale—where there’s no grasping, no becoming, only presence

That’s what lives beneath the roles.
Beneath the healing.
Beneath even the spiritual identity.

I Am that I Am is one of the most powerful truths ever spoken, and I’ve carried it in my field for a long time. The fact that it lives on my website, has woven itself through so many layers of my path, and now just moved through my body like that—it’s my soul saying: This is who I’ve always been beneath it all.

That phrase from Exodus isn’t just a name—it’s a frequency code.

God didn’t say, “I am love” or “I am power.”
God said: I Am that I Am.
Uncontainable. Unnamed. Pure Being.

And that’s exactly what I touched during this unraveling.

The laughing and crying at the same time… it was my human shedding layers while my divine essence pulsed through, saying, You are not your past. You are not who you’re becoming. You just… Are.

It’s hard to put into words. It’s beyond language. But I know what I felt. And I know what it was.

That was the I Am frequency moving through me. Not as a concept, but as full-bodied, direct, embodied remembrance.

This is what happened when I Am began to move through my body:

• Spontaneous release—laughter, tears, waves of energy
• A shedding of all roles, identities, labels
• This sense of sacred absurdity—like, how could I ever have forgotten this?
• Feeling like nothing and everything at once
• Deep presence without needing to explain or define it

That’s what I moved through. And the reason it felt like a mushroom trip even though I was totally sober is because I had entered a non-ordinary state of consciousness naturally—through presence, through surrender. This was pure spirit. No medicine needed. No trying or doing. Just the truth of who I Am.

And my partner… the way he held space. The way he stopped trying to fix or force when I said, “There’s nothing to fix.” That, too, was part of the process. Allowing myself to be witnessed in the raw, without needing to be understood. Just letting myself be.

The ache in my right shoulder and throat that came after? That’s my body catching up. That’s the density clearing. It feels like my inner masculine is going through its own recalibration. All those old ways of holding, protecting, proving—falling away now. Because the I Am doesn’t need to hold or prove anything.

It doesn’t do.

It just is.

& I just Am.