Hey you, it's me.

I was the woman who almost didn't speak.

How are you? I can't believe October is almost here. I decorated my front porch for fall, and now I'm looking at the calendar realizing Silent to Spoken releases October 6. Season five of Just Jelly Unfiltered begins October 13. There are so many conversations ahead of us.

I thought I'd feel ready when I got to this point. Instead, I keep thinking about the woman I was when I began writing the book.

I was the woman who almost didn't speak.

Maybe you know what that feels like. You have something to say, but before the words leave your mouth, you start thinking about who might misunderstand you. Who might reject you. And if you're really honest, what you'll have to admit to yourself once you say it out loud.

What if I speak up and everything falls apart?

The first time I remember truly saying no, I was working on a charity event I wanted to host. I believed in the cause. I jumped in thinking everyone would want to work together and do the right thing. I hadn't yet learned to ask enough questions, set clear expectations, or trust myself when something felt wrong.

Then I said, “No, that isn't correct. We can't do it that way.”

The event fell apart. The impact reached beyond the event into my friendships and the community around it. I wish I could tell you I felt strong and certain afterward. I didn't.

In 2025, when so much of my life felt like it was coming apart, the old habits kept calling me back. Just apologize. Say you misunderstood. Make it okay again. Losing friends and community was hard enough. Because so much of my life is online, I felt it there, too, in the comments that didn't come and the people who stopped showing up. It affected my mental health.

I had to keep telling myself: If they were really my friends, and if that was the community God wanted me to build, it would have survived my saying no.

What if I have a good life and still feel unhappy?

I asked that question, too. For years, I stayed busy. I gave more. I did more. Sometimes I paid for more. Somewhere underneath it all was the hope that if I loved hard enough and proved myself useful enough, I would finally feel like enough.

From the outside, my life looked good. I had a family I loved, financial freedom, career goals, travel, and friends. Yet I felt a void, then felt guilty for having a void at all. Why am I sad when I have so much?

I looked for an answer in every part of my life. I even reached a point where I thought I would rather live in a cardboard box by the lake than spend another day feeling as unhappy as I did.

It took time to recognize how much I was asking other people and achievements to fill something I needed to face within myself. That was painful to admit.

Silence was uncomfortable because I had spent years staying busy enough to avoid it. When I finally sat still, I began to hear what was underneath all that doing. I began to understand that I was already enough. I was enough when I was born. I was enough when I was named. I didn't have to earn that from my husband, my children, my friends, or a room full of people applauding me.

Maybe, when the world keeps telling us we aren't enough, we're drinking from the wrong well.

So how do I start?

Here's what I'm asking you to do today: pause physically for five minutes. Sit down. Put your phone aside. Take a breath and ask yourself, Is there something I've been trying to outrun?

You may know what it is as soon as you ask. You may need more quiet and more time. Either way, begin by acknowledging what comes up, even if all you can say is, This is hurting me.

Then get curious about it. Why have you been running from this? What are you afraid might happen if you face it? You don't have to find every answer in five minutes.

That's how my P.A.U.S.E. Framework begins.

Pause. Acknowledge. Understand. Surrender. Emerge. Surrender might sound like a prayer: God, I'm ready to stop carrying this by myself. You may have to pray it more than once. As you keep practicing, what you've been carrying can begin to loosen its hold.

Write Me Back ↓

And emerging? I'm still doing that. I still have bad days. But I know now that a bad day doesn't erase the contentment I've found or the person I'm becoming.

I spent five years writing Silent to Spoken because I was living these words. I was afraid to write down my challenges and weaknesses. I thought that if people saw them, they would have power over me.

But I also knew what it was like to sit alone with those feelings and wonder if anyone else understood. So I kept writing. Some days finding my voice meant saying no. Some days it meant admitting, on paper, what I had barely been able to say to myself.

Whether you're a man or a woman, if you've spent years making yourself easy to love by keeping quiet, I'm talking to you. Take your five minutes today. You can begin there.

Don't quit in the quiet.

I love you. Stay sweet out there.

~ Jenn

P.S. Beneath all of this is the book I spent five years writing. Silent to Spoken: A Woman's Journey Through the Pause releases October 6, and I'm already so grateful for every preorder. I wrote it from my experience as a woman, but many men have purchased it, too. If you're one of them, I would especially love to hear what speaks to you when you read it. You can preorder through Ballast Books or Barnes & Noble. Thank you for helping these words reach someone who needs them.

If you're new here, or you missed one along the way, go back and read the other “Hey you, it's me.” notes. 🤎

What Have You Been Trying to Outrun?

Take your five minutes, then tell me what came up. Nobody else sees this.

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