Pause 1: Vulnerability

A letter I wrote to myself. Maybe you needed it too.


Prefer to listen instead of read?
This letter is narrated using a soft AI voice to preserve the mood I intended—until I can one day record it in my own.


A woman lies on a rain-soaked sidewalk with her hand on her chest, eyes closed, while a man sits quietly nearby in reflection. The scene captures emotional vulnerability, quiet support, and raw presence after a storm.
Sometimes strength is just being seen, exactly as you are—in silence, in stillness, in truth.

Vulnerability: The Soft Power We Were Taught to Hide

Pause and Breathe | JBE Mindful Pathways

You were taught that vulnerability was a liability.
That crying made you fragile.
That asking for help meant you were behind.
That letting someone in would give them the power to crush you.

And you believed it—because you had to.

You learned to hold it in.
To keep the mask on, even when the inside of you was unraveling.
To laugh at the moments that hurt, and to say “I’m fine” with a voice that never fully believed it.

You’ve hidden in the pantry just to breathe.
Held your breath in conversations that demanded you stay silent.
Bit your tongue until the pain became second nature.
You’ve been the strong one, the listener, the fixer, the brave face—and you’ve done it all while wondering if anyone would ever see the version of you that couldn’t hold it together.

You used to think vulnerability would break you.
Now you know—it’s what’s saving you.

Because real strength isn’t staying quiet. It’s saying:
“I don’t have it all figured out… but I’m still here.”
“I need rest, and I’m allowed to take it.”
“I hurt… but I’m healing.”

And vulnerability?
It doesn’t always look poetic.
It looks like:

  • A mom crying in the closet because it’s the only door that locks
  • A man finally saying “no” to his father—and feeling 13 again when he does
  • A teen knocking on the guidance counselor’s door and whispering, “I think I need help”

It looks like texting, “I miss you,” and bracing for silence.
It looks like saying, “I can’t today” without guilt.
It looks like standing in a crowded room, unsure if your voice belongs—
and using it anyway.

Some days you’ll still flinch.
Some days you’ll still go quiet out of habit.
But slowly, day by day, you’re learning to breathe again.
To speak gently and truthfully.
To let the softness be seen without apology.

And no, not everyone will deserve your openness.
But you deserve to be seen.
Even if it’s just by you.


With cracked-open honesty and a love that keeps learning,
You’re doing it. You’re breaking patterns, not just surviving them.
And that soft power they told you to hide?
It’s the very thing that’s setting you free.

Love you, Juju.
Keep breathing. Keep showing up.

With grace, grit, and the quiet courage to begin again,
~ Juju Divine Empress
Founder, JBE Mindful Pathways
Wellness Advocate | Writer | Mother | Still Learning, Always Loving

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