Soul Summons

On releasing the fear of being perceived as a weirdo

I’ve always loved astrology, the esoteric, anything labeled as “woo woo”. I remember feeling deeply spiritual as a child, connected with the ground beneath my feet and billion tiny lights in the sky. I’ve shared this part of myself with very few people because of the endless eye rolls and “it’s all bullshit” comments I would receive when I mentioned that I found it fascinating.

For those reading who are astrologically inclined, I’m an Aries sun and Taurus rising and moon. Fire and earth. The Aries part of my chart is my 12th house, where both my Venus and Mars are conjunct to my sun. In essence, my drive, my desires, and my identity all live in the house of the hidden, the subconscious, the unseen. It’s the house of self-undoing, or, depending on how you use it, of liberation. I throughly enjoy going into the depths of the subconscious mind, attuning to my intuition and relentlessly using these as a way to pursue my own spiritual liberation. Give me all the mysteries and hidden things! Interesting how I end up in a city (country) that’s like a lasagna of thousands of years of history. This wasn’t an accident or coincidence. I was summoned here. More on that in a bit.

It is what it is, man.

I feel like all of these very natural inclinations and curiosities were suppressed in order to get along in the world (read: work a “real” job, earn money even if it sucks the life out of you).
Because I constantly ask the question “why”, I’ve been perceived as confrontational, when, in my mind, all I’m doing is attempting to gain clarity for the reasons someone is asking me to do something or go along with that they said. I’ve never felt subjected to peer pressure, other than the economic coercion of the modern working world, apparently. I’ve always needed a damn good reason to buy in to something.
From what I gather, this is a common experience of women on the autism spectrum. Simply asking for clarity means we’re labeled as rude, argumentative, or pushing back just to be combative. We’re mislabeled as too intense and told to be less… less inquisitive, less loud, less passionate, and less direct as to not make anyone around us uncomfortable. I didn’t realize until recently the level of self-monitoring I had to do just to “fit in” and get along in the workplace and sometimes even friend groups.

How I operated in the world wasn’t always like this though. When I lived in Orlando as a child, a neighbor told me a story about the start of one of my longest friendships. There was a little boy, Steve, down the street who had the coolest inflatable swimming pool. My mom said I was mesmerized by this for weeks. One day I walked my little 5 year old self down the street and announced, “Hi, I’m Sara, and I’m going to swim in your pool now!” The audacity. No asking permission, just announcing and doing. Thankfully, Steve didn’t seem to mind since we’re still friends 40 years later. Asking older neighbors or distant family members how you acted when you were under the age of 7 years old is truly valuable insight on who you really are before we are placed into boxes of who we should be, how to behave appropriately (“normal”), and before the world projects on to you who ought to be.

Little me, born without fear of snakes, bugs, or other “scary” animals. Perhaps a product of growing up in Florida?

Fast forward. My undergraduate degree was in international affairs (because I loved traveling and thrived in culturally diverse environments) and I decided the federal government was the best landing place to change the world (ha!). I saw myself as a diplomat, serving my country, my community and attempting to make the world a better place as a whole. When I did my internship at the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, the dream internship of any foreign policy nerd, the chief of staff at the time told me, and I quote, “Dear, you’d make a terrible diplomat because you can’t hold mirrors to people.” This one sentence, told to me by a man who didn’t know me very well, has stuck with me to this day. I still don’t know what exactly he meant by this and I held my tongue on asking for clarity as to not be seen as challenging someone in such an authoritative position.

Maybe it’s because I carry an energy of depth that I always crave exploring, in myself and others. Excavating the “why” behind everything can make a lot of people uncomfortable. In my experience, most people find it difficult to take action on anything or to change because they refuse to look at their own flaws, shadow side, or how they may be holding themselves back from living a life that feels truer to who they are. With the culture I was raised in, having flaws, which you’re supposed to conceal regardless of the suffering it may cause, means you’re fundamentally bad as a person.

When holding a mirror to someone and showing direct evidence that they have some work to do, people often double down on their beliefs rather than changing. True self-reflection typically requires a foundation of deep, non-judgmental trust, not only with others but within yourself. A sudden confrontation can shatter that safety, breeding contempt and resentment.

But alas, continuing to blame family messages or the completely fucked up messages of capitalism has no use and I can’t let it prevent me from letting my proverbial freak flag fly. The world needs the weirdos, especially now, and I want my wildness to conquer any boxes of conformity that I have internalized for decades.

The price I’m paying to pursue my soul’s calling

The call or summons, as I refer to it, back to Italy started way before I even set foot here. In a journal I have from almost 20 years ago I wrote, “I can’t wait to live in Italy one day.” No further details, no explanation. Likely something I channeled and wrote down because at the time I had no idea what it meant and I didn’t actually travel to Italy or consciously think much about it until late 2019. Weird.

The moment I was done asking for permission was when the NGO (non-governmental organization) I was working with for over 3.5 years told me that they wouldn’t allow me to declare residency here in Italy. Mind you, the NGO has an office in London and the other in Geneva, Switzerland. I watched as they set up employers of record for colleagues in other countries but yet, when I asked to relocate, they said it just wasn’t possible. It’s a pretty shit feeling to know that an organization you’ve been working for for years was perfectly comfortable watching me walk out the door. So I saved up as much money as I could and at the end of 2025, I chose myself, Italy, and I resigned.

To be clear, I am not anti-work. I love working and sinking my heart into something that I feel proud of and fulfilled by. What I am anti is control. More important to me than anything these days is my freedom. Freedom to work when and where I want. As a dual citizen, the thought of not being able to come and go as I please felt like someone else calling the shots in my life when ultimately it didn’t matter where I was working, the work still got done (I even have a fantastic recommendation letter from my former HR).

The honest version of what “freedom” actually looks like on a Tuesday in Rome when you have no income is just like how you may imagine. I’ve spent a lot of time writing, reading, and wandering around the city knowing I still made the best decision, but also coming to terms with the fact that my savings is dwindling and even though I’ve set up multiple structures for income, the money isn’t coming yet. So we’re clear, I didn’t move to Italy to be happy or rich, these are not my definitions of success, but I often think to myself how long I can keep going on like this until something comes through. It’s a challenging and deeply uncomfortable feeling to know you have so much to offer the world but you’re not quite sure who needs it and when the hard work of getting to this point will pay out. There are days when I completely spiral and my self worth shrinks to nothing. But I have to remind myself that none of this is true and that I’m a product of a society that showed me that if you can’t pay the bills, you suffer in inhumane ways. Some days I think my aura is tough and I can take the energetic bullshit thrown at me, but some days it’s totally overwhelming and I question my entire life. Despite it all, living in Italy allows me the safety, space and time to do the exploring, both internally and externally, in ways I could not have done in the United States. Italy is rapidly accelerating the return to myself. Getting back in touch with my weird, teaching botanic perfume workshops based on ancient practices and writing, are my ways of disengaging from a system that wasn’t designed for me. I’m not writing this so you’ll do what I’ve done - blow up your comfortable life and move to Italy or some other distant land. I’m writing it so you remember you were also, once, a five year old who just walked up and announced what you wanted.