Pocketful of Mojo
Pocketful of Mojo
You Can’t Heal What You Don’t Name
Ever felt that small tug in your chest that whispers, “I miss me”? This kickoff to Season Three leans into the tender grief that surfaces when you stop shrinking to fit other people’s comfort. We talk candidly about the invisible costs of people pleasing—energy leaks, stalled creativity, dulled desire, performative joy—and why naming them becomes the most compassionate first step toward alignment.
I share real moments from holidays and networking rooms where I looked competent on the outside while my inner voice planned an escape. That contrast sets up the oh moment: the instant your body says no while your mouth says yes. Instead of blame, we choose clarity. We break down how grief and honesty unlock a quiet, durable freedom you can feel in small ways: a pause before answering, an unadorned no, the relief of watching someone’s disappointment pass without you dissolving.
If you’re wondering what to take off your plate, I offer a simple decision filter: Does this match my energy now? Would I say yes if no one saw? Will future me be grateful or furious? When it isn’t a clean yes, it’s a no—and a no is just information. We also normalize the weird in-between: the restlessness after you stop overgiving, the impulse to refill your calendar, the nervous system relearning that safety doesn’t require exhaustion. The antidote is restful space you didn’t earn, followed by curiosity-led choices that rebuild desire without guilt.
By the end, you’ll have language for your grief, a structure for your boundaries, and permission to move slowly—because slowly is the fastest way to become the you that’s been there all along. If this resonates, hit follow, share with a friend who’s done being small, and leave a review so more people can find their way back to themselves. Your freedom starts here—one honest yes, one clean no, one brave breath at a time.
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You know what, gorgeous? You were never meant to be smaller. You learned to drink, to keep the peace, to be the light, to belong. But this season, no more apologizing. We start reclaiming this season. Welcome to Pocket Full of Mojo. Hey, bestie. Yes, you. Pull up a chair, grab a drink, hey, grab a blanket if it's one of those nights, because tonight we're diving deep. And season three is officially here. I'm Steph. I'm your Mojo Maven. And today, we're kicking off the new year with something nobody warns you about when you're stepping out of the people pleasing. Something that doesn't show up on the vision boards or the inspirational Instagram quotes. I'm talking about grief. The quiet, creeping, almost sneaky grief of realizing just how long you've been shrinking yourself. Not dramatically, not cue the violins kind of way, but politely and strategically, you know, survival style. And if you're thinking, oh good, Dibby Downer's here, Death, do we really have to talk about grief on day one? And I'm like, yes, yes, my friend, we do. Because you can't reclaim your freedom if you haven't acknowledged what drinking has cost you. This is where we pay the piper so that we can keep on dancing to our own damn tune. And we're gonna address it now. So it's not chasing us around like an emotional vampire for the rest of the year. Got time for that. And don't worry, we're gonna laugh, we're gonna cry, and by the end, we're gonna feel a little bit lighter. I promise. So let's dig into season three, episode one. But first, we gotta get tuned in, tapped in, and turned on. So yeah, let's talk about grief. The thing that nobody wants to talk about, and certainly nobody warns you about when you start seeing the truth of your own life. Cause here's the deal. When you've spent years shrinking and bending and hiding and smoothing over, that moment that you stop doing it, there's a tug. It's like a little tug in your chest, and you find this little lump in your throat and this weird sense of oh, oh, that's what all that was. Oh, that's how much I've been giving away. Oh I miss me. And let's be honest, my friend, because shrinking yourself doesn't feel like weakness. Well, it feels like it feels smart at first, like you've cracked the code and you've outsmarted the game. Because we didn't shrink because we were fragile, we shrank because it worked. It kept us safe. We learned how to read a room and predict reactions and anticipate the tension and yeah, make ourselves agreeable. And let's be honest, we're really good at it. Like I I'll I'll give you a personal example because I love embarrassing myself in service of your insight. So Christmas, several years ago, I had about a dozen friend and family events lined up in a couple of days. Dinners, brunches, gift exchanges. And yeah, I showed up smiling, carrying a tray of cookies like my soul depended on it. You know, nodding at the conversations and laughing politely at the jokes that weren't funny. And first day, 8 p.m., I was basically a zombie wrapped in a sweater. I felt like proper shit. And had a hard time reconciling how I was feeling with the whole idea of the season. Like, didn't someone promise joy in one of those carols I was singing against my will? Like, where's that at? Like I felt empty, not full of wonder and magic, like I thought was supposed to be the payout. And I looked around and I noticed that no one noticed. Not a single soul cared that I went above and beyond, that I overpaid, that I I overspent energy I didn't have. Like I was alone in my own little personal hell and I had no energy to do anything about it. So the grief in that moment wasn't sadness for the events themselves. They were lovely little parties I went to. The grief was realizing how much of myself I'd put on hold to perform the kindness. That's what quiet grief feels like. It's not melodramatic, it's just tender and undeniable. And if you just came from a lovely evening, it's hard to put your finger on like why do I feel like shit? So we've got the receipts, and now it's time to name the cost because, honey, it's not just emotional, it sneaks into every corner of your life. Like it costs you energy. I'm talking totally exhausted, I can't even kind of energy. It'll steal your creativity. You know, like you've got that brilliant idea that died in your head because, well, it wasn't the right time. Or it might interrupt somebody else who already had a plan. Yeah, not cool. Shrinking yourself costs you desire. You know, that stuff that actually lights you up, but it's hiding behind this mask of niceness that you're wearing be and then you're too tired to chase your own desires because it might interrupt someone else's plans. So it dies on the vine just like that. And it costs you joy. I'm talking about real joy, not the polite, socially acceptable kind. The kind of joy you get when you're watching the snowfall in slow motion from the window, and the kind that you get when you're in the moment, you know, where whatever it is that you're doing, you could do it for hours. But the subtle part is that from the outside, you've done all this shortchanging for so long that you make it look good. And people see you as competent and calm and maybe even enviable. Like, you know, the moment when someone says, You're always so calm. Look at you, you're so organized, you've got it so together, and you're like, Yeah. And inside, I'm screaming and planning my escape to Costa Rica. And that's the unspoken cost, right? Inside, this resentment is whispering, Fuck, I miss me. When's it my turn? So let's talk about that oh moment that oh, uh uh, I get it. That tiny, sneaky, life-changing realization that hits you. And it'll come when you least suspect it. And because it's not a dramatic meltdown, there's no confetti or slow motion, falling on the floor with big swells of music. It's it's subtle, but it's quiet, but it's super powerful. And it's the moment that you hear yourself say yes, and your body goes, uh-oh, no, actually, we're done here. Or when someone else takes up space and they they talk loud and they fill the room, and instead of thinking, good for them, your brain kind of mutters, God, I kind of wish I could do that. And also, thank God they're doing it, because I can't. That moment is a mix of grief and relief and envy and validation, all tangled into one emotional knot. Because honestly, that's normal because it's your nervous system waking up and saying, Hey, remember that thing we used to do? What if we didn't do that anymore? Maybe we could feel more like ourselves. It's like you realize mid-party that you've been nodding at everyone else's stories and eating someone else's leftover guacamole because you're too afraid to grab your own. And then suddenly you're like, When did my life become a cilantro-powered hostage situation? Like a few years ago, I was at a networking brunch, and it was one of those events where everyone's smiling politely and passing around like their little avocado toasts and subtly showing off their accomplishments. And I watched this woman walk in, and she was bold and confident, and she was hilarious and just fully herself. And she claimed that space just totally effortlessly. And like she had this big laugh, and she gestured, and she was the room, you know? And I thought, wow, I'd die for just a tiny bit of that. And here's the kicker: I did feel jealous and relieved. And jealous because duh she had something that I wanted, which was the audacity to fully be herself, and relieved, truthfully, because I was exhausted from holding space for everyone else while trying to be good or whatever they I thought they wanted me to be. And that, my friend, uh, is the essence of the oh moment. It's the click in your chest that says, wait, I've been shrinking myself this whole time. So the grief comes, but so does clarity. And the grief is necessary. It's your body and your heart acknowledging all the ways you've been small, all the moments that you silenced yourself to stay safe or liked. But here's where the magic starts. Because that moment isn't a moment of failure, it's a doorway. And when you feel that little pang, that little tiny sting, that mix of like, ugh, and oh, uh, you're gonna start seeing clearly. You know, you go to the eye doctor and they put that right lens in front of you, and you're like, oh, oh, oh, this is what it's supposed to be like. And you realize it's not about blaming anyone else. You will go through that little forest, but uh spoiler alert, it's not your parents, it's not your co-workers, it's not the aunt who comments on your life choices every Christmas and every chance she gets. It's about saying, I've been living reactively, I've been accommodating to make other people feel comfortable. I've been hiding my own spark, and I'm gonna try something else. I think I'm done with that. It's like standing in front of a mirror and whispering to yourself, Oh, this is what I look like when I'm actually allowed to exist without permission. Huh. Cool. And here's the key insight the oh moment is painful because it's honest. And we pet ourselves a lot with pretty thoughts, right? But it's also super liberating because once you acknowledge it, once you feel it, you're ready to start moving toward the freedom and your nervous system and your heart and your brain, they've been quietly waving a little red flag, and that flag has just turned into a green light, alignment, right? So lean into it, feel the grief. You can't get over it, you gotta go through it. Laugh at the absurdity of it, like catch yourself in those moments and give yourself a little tender, it's gonna be okay. I forgive you. We got this. And know this is that, oh, every single one of them, these are breadcrumbs. And it's showing you the path to being able to show up fully and unapologetically, and gesture and laugh out loud and take up space and finally reclaim the parts of yourself that you've been shrinking away or putting in your pocket for years. And this is where we get to the fun part, okay? This is where we get to talk about the other side of the grief. The side we've been tiptoeing towards while holding our breath and clenching our fists and trying not to upset anyone and trying not to take up too much space. We get freedom. Not the loud Instagram-y, I quit my job and move to Bali Freedom. Although, hey man, if that's your thing, go for it. I've done it. Five stars highly recommend. I mean, live your best life, but that's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about the quiet, unapologetic freedom. The freedom that shows up like giving yourself a beat to answer before blurting out yes is a habit. Like that, you walk differently when you notice yourself doing taking that pause for the first time. You're just like, oh yeah, I just did that. Or watching someone be mildly disappointed and being like, huh, I didn't die. Yay me. Or working your way towards say doing something crazy, like saying exactly what you mean, without adding a three-step disclaimer little sandwich at the end with an apology attachment. Like imagine saying no to something you don't really want to do, and realizing that's all it you need to do. No charts, no graphs, just a simple no thank you. Boom, mic dropped. Right? Like a few holidays ago, I got invited to this family brunch, and I really didn't want to go. And normally I would have said yes and shown up with cookies and stayed or like gone early and stayed late and done the dishes, smiling through all the small talk and gone home completely exhausted and resentful and with no memories of anything that happened, because it was just a whirl. Because I mean, do they think the whimsy just creates itself? No. Magic and wonder are the byproduct of the all the silent heavy lifting done by people pleasers like us. And the entitled get to stroll in moments before dinner hits the table and immediately pass out in front of the game while we do dishes. But we all have a breaking point. So, this time I paused, I listened to my body, I acknowledged my energy limit, and I said, No, thank you. I'm gonna take the morning for myself. And here's the crazy part no one gasped, no one lost their minds, I didn't get a text saying, you know, asking if I was okay, my mother didn't call me dramatic, nothing. Instead, I did whatever I wanted. I went on a long walk, I listened to some music, I made my coffee the way I like it, with a little bit of Bailey's in it, I had a little Mandarin Orange, and yeah, I even had some chocolate with that because I deserved it, and you can't stop me. And if you're wondering, yes, I did send a cheeky little text to my brother saying, I'm living my best antisocial brunch life. Don't be jealous, love you, mean it. Because here's the truth when you stop shrinking, you stop burning yourself out. You get to reclaim that energy, put it back in your bank account, along with your joy and your clarity, and like a little sense of triumph that you did something for you because you're starting to become the version of yourself who actually matters to you. And this freedom that's on the other side of this grief that we're getting to be friends with comes the confidence without the performance, the boundaries without the guilt spirals, the saying yes because we want to, not because we feel trapped or that it's automatic. Or saying no because we chose to, not because you're scared of somebody's reaction. And here's the magic once you start honoring your capacity, your life stops being about surviving and starts being about like living. And you it there's a there's a feeling that comes along with that. Like picture this you finally say yes to that passion project or that hobby or that morning ritual, and your old small self-brain starts whispering to you, Yeah, but what about everybody else? And you just roll your eyes and say, Mm, not my circus, not my monkeys. Because that, my friends, is what real peace feels like. So if any of this is landing, the grief, the relief, the oh moments, just know that you're not doing it wrong. You're waking up. And once you wake up to how much you've been carrying, the next question almost always is okay, but what do I actually stop doing? Because awareness is super powerful, but without relief, it just becomes another thing that you're managing. And that's not the point here. So we're gonna gently get practical and we're going to talk about how to figure out what doesn't belong on your plate anymore. Because if you can take these things off your plate without the guilt, without the drama, without a full personality overhaul, this isn't about burning everything down. Because when we're mindful, the reclaiming really begins. So let's talk about the plate. You know the one, the plate you've been stacking higher and higher, like you're auditioning for the Olympic sport of doing the most. But here's the truth: nobody told us, just because something is possible for you doesn't mean it's yours to carry. Like recovering people pleasers tend to ask the wrong question. We ask, can I do this? And the answer is almost always yes. But the better question is, should I be doing this? Am I the only one who can do this? Do I have a unique set of skills that makes it impossible for somebody else to do this? And it's about paying attention, right? You gotta figure out how to know if it belongs on your plate or not. So if you feel resentment building before you've even agreed, that's some data. Uh if you feel tired just thinking about it, that's some data. And if you're saying yes out of fear or guilt or obligation or habit, also data. If your eye starts twitching when someone asks you for just a small favor, we're gonna call that a clue. Let me give you an example. I used to say yes to things and then immediately think, okay, how how can I do this without losing my mind? How can I add this without something else falling off? That's not generosity. That's self-abandonment wearing a cute outfit. So as you walk into this season, here's a simple filter that will help you decide what stays and what's gotta go. Ask yourself Does this align with my energy right now? If no one was watching, would I still say yes? And will future me be grateful or quietly furious? And if it's not a clean yes, it It's a no. And a no isn't mean. It's just information. Taking things off your plate doesn't mean you're less capable. It just means you're more honest about your capacity. And I gotta call it out right now. It's just that this is all gonna feel very disorienting. Like I'm I'm trying to get this message out there because what happens is this is where a lot of people quit. Is when you're trying to you're like on paper, this all makes sense. My conscious brain is taking this all in. I can do these things, I can do hard things, and then we do them, and then it's just like n now what? Because when you stop overgiving and you have this freedom, it can feel weird. And you're just like, um, I was I I read the brochure and it said this was gonna be euph euphoric and instantly peaceful. That's weird. This isn't feeling like that at all. Apparently I'm from Wisconsin. I don't know. Anyway, you might feel restless or maybe a little lost or bored because you've taken things off your plate, but you don't know what you like, so you haven't added anything else in. This is where you stop doom scrolling and start asking yourself some questions. Because your brain is gonna go, like, wait, shouldn't I be doing something for someone right now? That's an actual thought I had. Isn't that bizarre? But that's not failure. It's my it's just my nervous system recalibrating. Because for a really long time, your identity was tied to being needed. So when you're no longer overfunctioning, your body's like, Hello? Anybody? Anybody have an emergency? Right here. Like when you finally sit down after a chaotic day and your leg starts bouncing like it's auditioning for river dance.com feels unfamiliar. But this disorientation is not a sign that you're doing it wrong. Do not quit here. It's a sign that you're doing something new. This is the space where your system learns that safety doesn't require you to be exhausted, that love doesn't need you to sacrifice everything, and peace doesn't require permission. So give yourself some grace here, because you're unlearning a lifetime of conditioning. You can't blaze a new trail overnight, no matter what anybody tries to tell you. So, what do we do with all this free time now? AKA now what? So now you've cleaned your plate, you've said some no's, you've got some space, and suddenly you're like, okay, but now what do I do with my hands? Here's the thing free time is not a problem to solve, it's an invitation. But if you jump too quickly into filling it, you'll just recreate the same patterns with different packaging. So start here. Rest. Rest without earning it. It's not a productive rest, it's not a self-improvement rest, it's just rest. Like nap, walk, stare out the window like a Victorian child. You're allowed to exercise your right. It's not gonna make sense at first because it goes against everything that you thought you were wired for. Just trust me on this one. Step one has to be rest. Step two, notice what you're drawn to. Pay attention to curiosity, not obligation. We got rid of those, right? What feels light, what feels playful, what feels interesting without a payoff. And then step number three, this allows you to start rebuilding your relationship with desire. Take yourself out on a walk or for a coffee or a cocktail and ask yourself, what do I want more of? Not what should I want, what do I want? And yeah, sometimes the answer is snacks. Or silence, or watching Grey's Anatomy for the 47th time. Look, healing is nuanced, all right? But this is how you reclaim yourself slowly, honestly, without pressure. One of my favorite quotes is slowly is the fastest way to get where you're going. Think about it. When we rush and we skip steps that we eventually have to revisit later and we make mistakes because we rush and we forget places here and there, and remember time is weird, and you don't need to rush to become someone new. You're just making room for who you've always been. This is what reclaiming looks like. It's not dramatic, it's not perfect, it's quieter, but it's truer and way more yours. And that's why this season it's about reclaiming. Not proving, not fixing, not performing. Reclaim your voice, reclaim your energy, reclaim the parts of you that learn to hide in order to belong. This season we're gonna be diving into boundaries without guilt, confidence without explanation, we're gonna talk emotional safety and really dig into our identity and how to skip the approval of it. No more shrinking, no more apologizing, no more polite self-abandonment, even if we make it look good. So if you're feeling a little grief, a little tenderness, or maybe even a little panic about showing up fully, I want you to fight the urge to flee and just lean into it. And that grief is your breadcrumb trail. Made of gold. Follow it, and you're gonna find your freedom. And season three, we are gonna walk right into that freedom together. Welcome to season three, my friend. You don't have to be smaller here, and you don't have to hide. You get to show up fully, and hunt is gonna feel amazing. And here's what I want you to know. This season is the season of permanent. Because drinking, over. Apologizing for existing, also over. Hunting your spark, definitely over. So as we wrap up this kickoff episode, I want you to just take a moment, breathe in, breathe out, give yourself a little smile. Hmm. You made it here, and you're ready. It's gonna feel amazing to be you. So let's stop thinking. Let's start reclaiming. Let's take what's ours. Everybody else is. So let's go and be loud enough to be noticed, gentle enough to feel safe, bold enough to shine. This has been Steph, your mojo Maven. It's your first of many episodes of season three, so stick around because we're just getting warmed up. I love you, I'm proud of you, and I can't wait to see all our feminines do together. Check out the show notes for more ways that we can hang out. And if you're feeling generous, the gift of a review. If you're loving the podcast, it helps other people find the show. And if love is gonna change the world, and I know it will, we need all hands on deck. Again, thank you so much for being here. It means the world, and get ready for an amazing year ahead. This is our time, and there's room for everybody at the top. So until next time, my friends, stay fabulous, keep falling in love with yourself, and we'll see you next time when we dive into Little Bowser Boot Camp. How to build your fence and keep it pretty. See you then. Ciao for now.
