I had this idea. I was going to find posts on facebook from people who were struggling with the exact problem I was solving. I was going to get AI to help me craft a blog article that addressed this problem. MY problem is that means I had to sit and scroll through Facebook. Down the dark doomscroll I went. Tell me if this story hits a nerve for you.
The intention of looking for a post on facebook was gone from your mind in the first 30 seconds, because you found yourself face-to-face with another success story. Another woman who started her business around the same time you did, now casually mentioning her 40,000-member Facebook group like it's no big deal.
There she is, posting from some gorgeous speaking venue, talking about her "$20K month like it's Tuesday," and you're sitting there in your pajamas wondering what cosmic joke made her the chosen one while you're still trying to figure out how to show up without wanting to crawl under your desk.
The thing is, you know you're not lacking in the brain department. That brilliant mind of yours? It's there, doing its thing, making connections others miss, seeing patterns that could change everything. But somehow it's also the same brain that convinces you to hide when it's time to actually do something with all that brilliance.
And you're tired. So bone-deep tired of wanting something this much.
When Signs Become Traffic Jams
Remember when you first started seeing others in your space? It felt like a sign from the universe, didn't it? Like validation that you were on the right path because look—other people are walking it too.
But then that remote path became a 10-lane freeway at peak hour in LA. Everyone and their sister suddenly doing exactly what you thought was your thing. That business curiosity you'd been quietly exploring? Now it's everywhere, flooding your feed like some cosmic joke.
And you're stuck in the far lane that somehow blocks every single off-ramp. Watching everyone else merge and exit and arrive at their destinations while you're just... there. In traffic. Going nowhere.
The longing sits in your chest like a stone. This desperate, aching want for what they have, mixed with the growing despair that whispers maybe it's just not meant for you. Maybe you missed your moment. Maybe you're the exception to every success story.
The Walk of Shame
The gurus have answers, of course. They always do.
"DM 50 people a day!" "Host weekly live events!" "Show up authentically!" "Build your community!" "Network, network, network!"
And each suggestion feels like they're asking you to walk naked through the streets while a crowd of strangers rings bells and chant "Shame, shame, shame."
Because what do you do when you don't have a network? When the thought of sliding into someone's DMs makes your skin crawl? When hosting a live event feels like volunteering for public humiliation? When every piece of advice assumes you already have what you're desperately trying to build?
The communities they talk about joining? You peek in, but you don't belong there. You don't have the wins to share, the momentum to match, the easy confidence that seems to be the price of admission.
So you stay on the outside, watching through windows, feeling smaller and smaller as everyone else gets bigger and louder and more successful.
The Loneliness of Almost
There's a special kind of loneliness that comes with being on the brink of giving up. It's not the clean break of walking away—it's the exhausting limbo of still wanting it but not knowing how to get it. Of having all this capability trapped inside you with no clear path to let it out.
You refresh your email hoping for that one inquiry, that sign that someone, somewhere, needs what you have. You start posts and delete them. You research courses and close the browser. You make plans and abandon them before they see daylight.
The humiliation isn't even public—it's private. It's the conversation with yourself every morning about whether today will be different, and the conversation every night about how it wasn't.
Everyone else seems to have cracked some code you can't even find. They make it look effortless while you're drowning in the effort of trying to figure out what the effort should even be.
You Are Not Alone
If you're reading this and thinking "how did she see into my soul," you need to know: you are not alone in this traffic jam. You are not the only brilliant mind sitting in that blocked lane, watching everyone else speed past.
You are not lacking because the networking advice makes your skin crawl. You are not alone because you don't have the community yet. You are not failing because their path doesn't fit your feet.
That desperate longing in your chest? I feel it too. That bone-deep tiredness from wanting something so much it physically hurts? I know that weight.
The way you refresh your email hoping for that one sign someone needs what you have? The posts you start and delete? The plans you make and abandon? The private humiliation of another day that wasn't different?
You are not alone.
There's a Break in Everything
But here's what I've started to notice from my own lane in this traffic: there are breaks. Small breaks where the light gets in. Moments when the noise dies down just enough to hear something else.
It's not the 10-lane freeway everyone else is racing down. It's not the communities you don't quite fit into or the networking events that drain your soul.
It's quieter than that. More intentional. It's the space between what everyone says you should do and what actually feels true for how your mind works.
Your brilliant brain that hides under a rock? It's not hiding because it's scared. It's waiting. It's watching. It's looking for its people—the ones who think like you do, who need what you can do, who are also tired of being told to DM their way to success.
That break in the traffic... it's not another lane to merge into. It's an exit ramp most people don't even notice because they're too busy following the same GPS guru advice everyone else is using.
You're exactly who we've been looking for syster. Come this way. The Brand is that crack in the traffic - the space where you stop forcing yourself into everyone else's blueprint and start building one that works the way you do.
I had this idea. I was going to find posts on facebook from people who were struggling with the exact problem I was solving. I was going to get AI to help me craft a blog article that addressed this problem. MY problem is that means I had to sit and scroll through Facebook. Down the dark doomscroll I went. Tell me if this story hits a nerve for you.
The intention of looking for a post on facebook was gone from your mind in the first 30 seconds, because you found yourself face-to-face with another success story. Another woman who started her business around the same time you did, now casually mentioning her 40,000-member Facebook group like it's no big deal.
There she is, posting from some gorgeous speaking venue, talking about her "$20K month like it's Tuesday," and you're sitting there in your pajamas wondering what cosmic joke made her the chosen one while you're still trying to figure out how to show up without wanting to crawl under your desk.
The thing is, you know you're not lacking in the brain department. That brilliant mind of yours? It's there, doing its thing, making connections others miss, seeing patterns that could change everything. But somehow it's also the same brain that convinces you to hide when it's time to actually do something with all that brilliance.
And you're tired. So bone-deep tired of wanting something this much.
When Signs Become Traffic Jams
Remember when you first started seeing others in your space? It felt like a sign from the universe, didn't it? Like validation that you were on the right path because look—other people are walking it too.
But then that remote path became a 10-lane freeway at peak hour in LA. Everyone and their sister suddenly doing exactly what you thought was your thing. That business curiosity you'd been quietly exploring? Now it's everywhere, flooding your feed like some cosmic joke.
And you're stuck in the far lane that somehow blocks every single off-ramp. Watching everyone else merge and exit and arrive at their destinations while you're just... there. In traffic. Going nowhere.
The longing sits in your chest like a stone. This desperate, aching want for what they have, mixed with the growing despair that whispers maybe it's just not meant for you. Maybe you missed your moment. Maybe you're the exception to every success story.
The Walk of Shame
The gurus have answers, of course. They always do.
"DM 50 people a day!" "Host weekly live events!" "Show up authentically!" "Build your community!" "Network, network, network!"
And each suggestion feels like they're asking you to walk naked through the streets while a crowd of strangers rings bells and chant "Shame, shame, shame."
Because what do you do when you don't have a network? When the thought of sliding into someone's DMs makes your skin crawl? When hosting a live event feels like volunteering for public humiliation? When every piece of advice assumes you already have what you're desperately trying to build?
The communities they talk about joining? You peek in, but you don't belong there. You don't have the wins to share, the momentum to match, the easy confidence that seems to be the price of admission.
So you stay on the outside, watching through windows, feeling smaller and smaller as everyone else gets bigger and louder and more successful.
The Loneliness of Almost
There's a special kind of loneliness that comes with being on the brink of giving up. It's not the clean break of walking away—it's the exhausting limbo of still wanting it but not knowing how to get it. Of having all this capability trapped inside you with no clear path to let it out.
You refresh your email hoping for that one inquiry, that sign that someone, somewhere, needs what you have. You start posts and delete them. You research courses and close the browser. You make plans and abandon them before they see daylight.
The humiliation isn't even public—it's private. It's the conversation with yourself every morning about whether today will be different, and the conversation every night about how it wasn't.
Everyone else seems to have cracked some code you can't even find. They make it look effortless while you're drowning in the effort of trying to figure out what the effort should even be.
You Are Not Alone
If you're reading this and thinking "how did she see into my soul," you need to know: you are not alone in this traffic jam. You are not the only brilliant mind sitting in that blocked lane, watching everyone else speed past.
You are not lacking because the networking advice makes your skin crawl. You are not alone because you don't have the community yet. You are not failing because their path doesn't fit your feet.
That desperate longing in your chest? I feel it too. That bone-deep tiredness from wanting something so much it physically hurts? I know that weight.
The way you refresh your email hoping for that one sign someone needs what you have? The posts you start and delete? The plans you make and abandon? The private humiliation of another day that wasn't different?
You are not alone.
There's a Break in Everything
But here's what I've started to notice from my own lane in this traffic: there are breaks. Small breaks where the light gets in. Moments when the noise dies down just enough to hear something else.
It's not the 10-lane freeway everyone else is racing down. It's not the communities you don't quite fit into or the networking events that drain your soul.
It's quieter than that. More intentional. It's the space between what everyone says you should do and what actually feels true for how your mind works.
Your brilliant brain that hides under a rock? It's not hiding because it's scared. It's waiting. It's watching. It's looking for its people—the ones who think like you do, who need what you can do, who are also tired of being told to DM their way to success.
That break in the traffic... it's not another lane to merge into. It's an exit ramp most people don't even notice because they're too busy following the same GPS guru advice everyone else is using.
You're exactly who we've been looking for syster. Come this way. The Brand is that crack in the traffic - the space where you stop forcing yourself into everyone else's blueprint and start building one that works the way you do.
We dare you to join us inside The SYSTERVERSE and make connections, collaborate, and grow.
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