Shut Up Holly (Part 2)

You are deeply loved, and not by accident. You bring value, depth, and partnership into your marriage. You are chosen every single day for who you are, not despite it.

Your kids don’t need a perfect mom. They need you—a mom who shows up, who loves fiercely, and who models what it looks like to keep going even when things are hard.

You don’t need to look like anyone else to belong. Your presence, your warmth, and your individuality are more than enough. You are beautiful in a way that isn’t meant to be compared.

You absolutely belong, even when you question. Your curiosity isn’t a flaw, it’s a sign of a thoughtful, engaged, and growing faith. The right churches will honor that.

You speak honestly, and that matters. You can trust yourself to communicate with integrity. What others do with your words says more about them than it does about you.

Your voice is not annoying—it’s yours. It carries your thoughts, your humor, your perspective. The people who matter aren’t laughing at you; they’re listening.

You are intelligent and worthy of being heard. Your ideas deserve space in the conversation just as much as anyone else’s.

You’ve made mistakes because you’re human. But you are not a mistake. You are someone who learns, evolves, and keeps showing up.

For the first time ever, I am actively talking back to Holly. I’m exhausted by her voice. It’s harsh, it’s cruel, and it’s toxic. Lately, I’ve started to recognize it for what it is instead of accepting it as truth. I recently began therapy again, and even in a short time, it’s helped me understand my mental health in a deeper, more meaningful way. I’ve been putting real intention into staying grounded and present—especially when I feel those waves of doubts crashing to the surface.

I’m genuinely excited for this next chapter, but I’d be lying if I said there weren’t uncertainties. I’m standing at a crossroads in several areas of my life—people-pleasing being a big one—and I can’t keep abandoning myself just to make others comfortable. It’s no longer sustainable, physically or mentally. I’m learning that it’s okay to set boundaries, even when it disappoints people.

I may never be someone who thrives in confrontation or calls people out loudly—but I am becoming someone who stands up for herself in quieter, steadier ways. I’m learning to trust that knot in my stomach when something feels off. I’m learning that protecting my peace doesn’t mean abandoning myself. I can still be kind. I can still be understanding. But I don’t have to disappear to be those things—and that feels like growth.

I’m also becoming more intentional about how I show up on social media—what I share, why I share it, and who I engage with. Beyond that, I’m pushing myself to try new things, to step outside of my comfort zone, and to build a life that actually aligns with who I’m becoming. I just got back from a little weekend reset trip, courtesy of my husband. He encouraged me to step outside my comfort zone and travel solo—for the very first time. As nervous as I was, I did it. And it ended up being an incredible experience. I’ll be sharing more about that trip very soon.

As for my dreams and aspirations, I’m finally allowing myself to ask what they actually are—and to believe they matter. I’m ready to take small, attainable steps toward them. And for the first time in a long time, that feels exciting instead of scary.

Moving forward, I want to be more mindful of Holly. I want to catch her the moment she starts rambling and remind myself that her voice doesn’t get the final say. I also want to be intentional about how I speak about myself—especially in front of my children. I’ve made progress, but I’m not done yet. I want them to see me fall and get back up. I want them to see me offer myself grace, to keep growing, and to show up with confidence—in both the small moments and the big ones. I want to lead by example.

At the end of the day, these aren’t just words on a page. I’m putting real action behind them. I’m breathing life into how I write, how I think, and how I show up in this messy, beautiful world. My life is full in ways younger me could have never imagined. That doesn’t mean it’s always easy—mental health doesn’t discriminate. It doesn’t care how things look on paper. But it does mean I can slow down, look up, and feel grateful—for another day, for my health, for growth, for the people I love. And maybe that’s where the real shift begins.