How to Transform Self-Doubt Into Your Most Powerful Voice

What if no one ever said it directly… but you still got the message?

You're too much.
Too deep—Can’t you just keep it light?
Too tired—Why do you nap so much?
Too intense—Do you always have to make it so heavy?

Too whatever.

No one had to say it outright.
But it still hit.
So you shrink. You go quiet.

And yeah, you’re an introvert—so going inward feels cozy. Familiar. But then you stop speaking up, even when something inside you knows better. You start second-guessing your gut. You swallow the words. Change the subject. Smile and nod when you want to scream or sigh.

You silence your knowing so others don't feel uncomfortable.

This week, I posted this photo of my journal on Instagram.

I’ve been journaling since I was sixteen.

Back then, it was the only space I felt free to say what I was really feeling—without having to explain, apologize, or soften my truth.

It still is.

This journal isn’t just a habit anymore. It’s where I scribble prayers in the margins, circle words like trust and truth, and sometimes cry right onto the page.

Because somewhere along the way, I picked up the belief that my voice wasn’t welcome out in the world.

Maybe that’s why I love writing this blog so much.
It’s my quiet way of talking. A space I don’t have to ask permission to take up. A page I get to fill, just as I am.

I’m not ready to say everything out loud yet. But that part’s coming.
The part where I use my voice—clearly, fully, without apology.

I learned—quietly, over time—to keep my thoughts to myself. I learned early that telling my truth might make things awkward. Or messy. So I stayed quiet. Kept the peace. Played small.

And yes, I’m still learning how to say hard things with care.
But this stuckness around speaking? It runs deep.

And the more I dig, the more I know—it’s not all mine.

There’s a growing body of research around intergenerational trauma and epigenetics—the idea that we carry more than just DNA. We also carry the energetic and emotional imprints of those who came before us.

So I’ve been asking:

• How much of this need to stay silent wasn’t mine to begin with?

• How many of my voice wounds are hand-me-downs?

• How many women before me made it through by zipping it?

This isn’t just about speaking up.
It’s about taking back the parts you were taught to hide.

I’ve been sitting with this for years.
I’ve felt it in my marriage, past jobs, friendships.
And now, running this business and sharing my story—it’s still here:

That little stir in my gut before I hit “publish.”
That voice asking: Is it safe to say this?

Two weeks after I left my full-time job, I got sick.
Not sick-sick. Just a sore throat that wouldn’t quit. No cough. No fever. Just this scratchy, raw feeling like something was stuck.

At first, I brushed it off. Then I laughed.

Energetically? That’s the throat chakra.
Right at the base of your throat. Connected to speaking, truth-telling, being real. When your voice gets blocked, your throat feels it. That tightness? That lump you can’t swallow? That’s energy—trapped right where your truth wants to live.

For me? It felt like my body was echoing the part of me still unsure I was allowed to speak freely.

I’m still in it.
Still learning to say what I mean without editing myself for comfort.
Still feeling the flutter of fear.
Still telling myself: You’re safe now. You can talk.

Most days, some version of resistance shows up. But I’ve got a practice now—a mix of IFS (Internal Family Systems) and bodywork I picked up in therapy.

A Practice for When Resistance Rises

• Find where it lives in your body.

• Describe it. Heavy or light? Smooth or scratchy? What color is it? How old does it feel?

• Get curious. Ask it what it needs. What’s it trying to protect you from?

• Say thank you. Even if it makes zero sense, meet it with kindness.

• Then remind it: You’re safe now. You—the True Self—the grounded, grown-up you has chosen to share your voice. To hit “publish.” To speak up in that meeting. To tell the truth in that text. To say the thing you’ve been holding in way too long. And you can handle whatever happens next.

This practice doesn’t erase the fear. But it loosens its grip.
It makes room for truth to slip through.

This isn’t a quick fix. It’s a lifelong unfolding. A slow unraveling.
A coming home to truth after generations of staying small.

Finding your voice is just one part of this work—like sorting through a cluttered attic, dusting off pieces of yourself you forgot existed.

I made something to help with that.

📖 Grab your free copy of “5 Gentle Ways to Break Free from Autopilot.”

Inside, you’ll find:

• 5 gentle practices to ground your nervous system and reconnect with your truth

• Soulful prompts to help you hear your voice—not the world’s noise

• Simple tools to say what matters—with more confidence and less fear

💜 If you’ve ever felt like you had to shrink just to belong… this is your permission slip to take up space again.

Here’s to your truth—spoken or not,

Kendra