Most origin stories start with a business plan. Mine started with a broken heart
I thought it was time to give you my origin story. Because most super heroes have them, and I want to be a super hero. Batman had a bat, Spider-Man had a spider. But all I had was a broken heart.
It sounds dramatic, I know. But it is my truth. It is not the kind of broken heart you nurse with ice cream and rom-coms, but the kind that shakes your sense of belonging.
I wasn’t let down by strangers. I was let down by women I admired, trusted, and believed had my back. Mentors. Bosses. Friends. When they pushed me out, or succeeded in doing so, it didn’t just feel like a professional loss. It felt like exile.
That’s when the questions started. Was I really good enough? Would I ever find a tribe that saw me fully?
Like any good origin story, the dark night of the soul came first. I turned inward. I journaled. I read. I studied growth mindset, not as a trendy buzzword, but as a lifeline. And yet, none of it stuck. I’d get a temporary spark of inspiration, then fall back into that corner of self-doubt, hurt, and depression.
Cue the self-talk: What the fuck, Jenny. Get over it already.
The seductive narrative that permeates self-help culture and casual advice-giving was a drug for me. I believed I was just one decision away from transforming my life. I just needed to “choose to be happy.” “Just choose better habits.” “Just choose to leave that toxic mindset.”
I know these things sound empowering. The Mel Robbins “5 Second Rule” or Rachel Hollis “Girl, Wash Your Face” mantras, or Gabby Bernstein’s “Choose Again” method: notice the fear-based thought, forgive yourself, choose a loving thought instead. I can go on and on. What a beautiful idea that change is always within reach, that our circumstances are simply the sum of our choices.
But this narrative, however well-intentioned, often reveals more about the speaker than the person they’re trying to help. When we tell someone to “just” choose differently, we’re projecting our own unexamined privilege onto their complex reality.
The ability to “just choose” assumes a foundation of safety, resources, and nervous system regulation that not everyone possesses. It assumes you have the luxury of choice. That your basic needs are met. That you’re not operating from a place of survival. That your brain isn’t hijacked by trauma responses that make “rational” decision-making difficult.
Trauma doesn’t just create painful memories, it fundamentally alters how our brains process information and make decisions. It affects our ability to trust, to hope, to imagine different futures. When someone suggests that healing, joy, or happiness is just a matter of choosing different thoughts or behaviors, they’re asking someone to override years of neurological adaptation they used to navigate their lives.
The person stuck in an abusive relationship isn’t staying because they’re choosing poorly. They might be staying because leaving feels more dangerous than staying, because their nervous system has learned that compliance equals survival, or because they literally cannot access the part of their brain that could envision and plan for a different life.
The person who procrastinates is not lazy or in need of counting backwards to get something done. They may be stuck in survival mode, exhausted, and their brain and body need rest, so they shut down after being in survival mode for so long. You don’t need to do something to heal from this. You need new experiences, safety, deep reflection, and an understanding of the root so you can strategize what to do next and define when the healthy time is to do it.
This doesn’t mean people are powerless or that change is impossible. It means that sustainable transformation requires more than a decision. It requires safety, support, resources, and sometimes professional help to heal the nervous system and address the underlying conditions that make change feel impossible. I am not a professional, and this newsletter is not designed to give professional help. Instead:
I don’t shame you for your survival strategies or tell you to “just let go.” We honor how these patterns served you while gently creating space for new options.
I recognize that privilege, access, and resources deeply impact your ability to heal and change. We work realistically within your actual life context, not an idealized version.
Instead of “just choose differently,” we might ask: “What would you need to feel safe enough to explore change?” or “What barriers are you facing that we could address together?” or simply, “This sounds really hard.”
Real change happens slowly. When we define the problem and setbacks. When we exercise the muscle. When we move strategically and with intention, in the context of relationships that provide safety and resources. It is rarely as simple as a single choice, and it is never about just trying harder.
The next time you’re tempted to offer someone the advice to “just choose,” pause. Consider what privileges in your own life have made the choice feel simple and available. Then offer something more valuable than a platitude: your presence, your patience, and perhaps your help in addressing the real barriers to change.
Because the truth is, transformation isn’t just about choosing differently. It is deeply rooted in creating the conditions where different choices become possible.
Until next time, stay fueled, burn the script, and own your story.
XOXO,
Jenny
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