My Story
I don't work with
who you think
you should be.
I work with who you already are, underneath everything you learned to perform.
About Becky
Writer. Speaker.
Creator of IMIE.
I'm Becky Siame. An adopted Black woman who grew up in New Zealand, navigating questions of identity, belonging, and voice in spaces that weren't built for all of me.
I came into a family, a language, a name, and a set of scripts before I was old enough to question any of them. Before I could speak, something was already being spoken into me about who I was, where I belonged, and what kind of presence was welcome in the room.
I spent years becoming whoever the room needed. Capable. Composed. Reliable. I was good at it. So good that I lost the thread back to myself.
That experience, and the long work of returning from it, is what led to IMIE. Not as a theory. As a necessity.
That returning is not finished. I still use this work. The scripts I have spent years mapping still find their way back. What has changed is not that they stop arriving. It is that I recognise them now, and I know what to do in the moment after recognition. That is what I am teaching. Not a state I have permanently achieved. A practice I am still inside.
You might recognise this
You know something is off.
You just don't have
words for it yet.
The sentences I'm about to describe aren't diagnoses. They're the particular shape of a script running so fluently you've stopped hearing it as borrowed. See if any of them land.
- You say yes when your body is saying no, and you don't notice until later.
- You're articulate in public and silent about what's actually happening inside you.
- You've done the work. Read the books. And still the same sentences come back.
- At 2am, a thought arrives that you'd never say out loud, and you live there more than anyone knows.
- You've become very good at managing yourself. Too good, maybe.
This isn't dysfunction. It's a script running so fluently you've mistaken it for your own voice.
Where it started
Already the one who wouldn't stay in the frame.
Age five. Backyard. New Zealand.
I was lying face down, palms turned up to the sun. My parents thought it was funny. I was not joking. That moment held the whole shape of what I would spend twenty years trying to work out: the gap between who I was and who the room seemed to need me to be.
Every child in that photo is facing forward, doing the expected thing. I am the one with my arm raised, face up, eyes closed. Not performing for the camera. Not doing what the room is doing. Just fully present in my own frequency. I did not know then that I was already practising the thing I would eventually build a methodology around.
The full story of how that gap became this work belongs in the room. If you want to be in that room, The Shape of Belonging is where I tell it.
What this page is for is letting you know that the work is not theoretical. It comes from someone who has been on the inside of the pattern, not just the outside of it.
Where the Work Comes From
The wound became
the work.
IMIE didn't begin as a methodology. It began with a question I couldn't stop asking: why do we keep hearing the same sentences inside our heads, no matter how much we've grown?
For me, that question was never abstract. I was adopted. I received a name, a family, a cultural script, before I had language to participate in any of it. The voice that would eventually feel like mine was assembled from pieces I hadn't chosen, in a context I hadn't been born into, for a room I wasn't entirely built for.
What I came to understand is that this is not a singular adoption story. It's a structural one. Most of us arrive into scripts that were written before us. By a parent. A classroom. A culture. A room where belonging had conditions attached.
What started as my particular wound, of being named and shaped before I could speak, became the lens through which I could see what was happening for everyone. IMIE is the process of returning to the frequency beneath all of that. Not a new identity built over the old one. A return to the self that was always there.
The Script Loop
Script Activation → Autonomic Response → Emotion → Narrative → Identity → Script Reinforcement
The Professional Layer
I read patterns
for a living.
Alongside this work, I am a Digital Conversion Analyst. My professional life is spent studying human behaviour at scale: where people hesitate, what language moves them, what invisible architecture sits between a person and a decision they keep not making.
That discipline and IMIE are not separate. They are the same skill operating in two territories. In both cases the question is identical: what is running underneath the surface, and what shifts when you interrupt it?
It means I bring something to this work that goes beyond lived experience. I bring a trained pattern-reader's precision. I am not guessing at what is happening inside the language you use to describe yourself. I have spent years learning how to see it.
Two fields.
One question.
In digital conversion work, the gap between intention and action is where everything interesting lives. People say they want one thing. Their behaviour reveals something else. The language in the middle is where the real decision is made.
In identity work, the same gap exists between who someone believes they are and who they actually are underneath the performance. IMIE works precisely in that space.
Seeing both, professionally and personally, is what makes this methodology structurally precise rather than intuitively led.
What I Notice
Where you are still
managing yourself.
I pay attention to where language becomes careful. Where the answer is accurate but not quite true. Where the voice drops a register so the room stays comfortable.
You don't lose yourself because something is wrong with you. You lose yourself because at some point it was genuinely safer to stay composed than to stay present. That is not a character flaw. It is an adaptation. The work is not about fixing it. It is about recognising that you no longer need it.
I know this particular pattern with some precision. The work I do now is creating the conditions where your system can find that out for itself.
How This Work Is Held
Not rushed. Not forced.
Never performative.
"My work is quiet, precise, and unflinching. Because your truth doesn't need hype. It needs room."
Becky Siame
If something in you
recognised itself here.
You don't need to rush. You don't need to be certain. If this work is yours, there are several ways to begin. Each one is a different doorway into the same return.
