07/06/2025
Where We Feel Safe to Fall Apart and Come Back Together
Today reminded me just how deeply our environment shapes our nervous system and how Human Design really hits the mark sometimes.
My son’s Human Design environment is Kitchens.
Not just literal kitchens, but spaces that are busy, alive with ideas, experimentation, creativity, like the heart of a home where things are made, stirred and transformed.
I’m in my second trimester and haven’t been feeling 100%, low blood pressure, racing heart, dizzy spells. One of those days where your body begs you to stop, even when life around you keeps moving.
While my partner worked from home with a music client, my son was watching Shrek on the laptop, our version of a TV, set up on the floor.
He kept climbing and crawling around the kitchen area, clearly exhausted, but still drawn to that energy.
Trying to wind things down, I moved the laptop to the couch to encourage a cuddle and some rest. But he was determined. Frustrated, he threw the laptop on the floor.
I took it away.
He got upset. I was fried.
So he ran.
Straight into Terence’s office, the music room, his version of a “kitchen.” Where rhythms are stirred, beats simmer and ideas bubble up. He climbed onto Terence’s lap mid-session… and fell asleep.
That’s what “Kitchens” means.
The place where life is being made. Where creativity is in motion. Where he can breathe and regulate and soften enough to let go.
He’s done it before, curled up in that room full of sound and creativity and fallen asleep, wrapped in that safe hum of “something’s being made here.”
Our environments aren’t always about the furniture.
They’re about the feeling.
And I’m learning that honoring that, especially on the messy days, makes all the difference.