The Sentence She Didn’t Know She Was Saying

She said the same sentence to herself for 20 years: “I’m the one who holds everything together, so I can’t want something just for me.”

By the time she came to coaching, she didn’t even know she was saying it anymore. It had gone underground. It just felt like the truth.

Her name is Raquela. That’s not her real name, but she’s given permission for her story to be shared. She was 54. She had a career she was proud of, a marriage that worked, kids who had turned out well. From the outside, her life looked exactly like the life you’re supposed to build.

But underneath it, a sentence formed when she was eight years old was quietly keeping her from something she had always wanted: a small business. Something of her own. Not world-changing. Just hers.

Every time she got close, she pulled back. The reasons changed. The sentence underneath the reasons never did.

Where Limiting Beliefs Actually Come From

Raquela’s sentence didn’t come from nowhere. It came from watching her mother work two jobs while her father was technically around but not really present. Her mother held everything together — the house, the bills, the kids, every school event. Tired but smiling. Never complaining.

By the time Raquela was nine, she had a clear picture of what a good woman looked like. She didn’t need anyone to explain the rules. She just watched and absorbed them.

That’s how it works. When a belief produces results — when it gets you praised, trusted, needed, loved — it stops feeling like a belief. It becomes who you are. You cannot question what you cannot see. And you cannot see what has become the air you breathe.

Kiley’s Own Story: The Laptop She Kept Closing

For years, Kiley built a career as a CPA at Arthur Andersen, then at Dun & Bradstreet. Later, after relocating to Puerto Rico, she ran the back end of her husband’s urology practice — billing, accounting, payroll — for over 25 years.

But quietly, for a full year, she was writing romance novels in the evenings after dinner. Her husband knew she was writing. He didn’t know what.

Because every time she imagined saying it out loud, she felt a strange embarrassment — like she was about to admit something she wasn’t sure she was allowed to want.

One night, deep in the story and fully in the flow, her husband walked in. She closed the laptop so fast her head could spin. Not because he would have judged her. Because she judged herself.

In that moment, she was Raquela. Choosing the sentence over the dream. It took a full year to stop closing the laptop.

The Question That Made Everything Visible

Six weeks into working together, Raquela said it again: “I just need to wait until things settle down.”

Kiley recognized it. Not as an excuse. As a story. So she asked one question:

"Raquela, when in your life has it ever fully settled down?"

Raquela stopped. Her shoulders dropped. She exhaled.

“Never. It has never fully settled down.”

Then came the next question: “If you’re waiting for settled down to give yourself permission, what are you actually waiting for?”

That is the shift. Not pushing. Not prescribing. Asking the question that makes the story visible. Because you cannot leave a room you cannot see.

How to Find Your Own Sentence

Here is the exercise from this episode. Take a breath. Let the question land.

What is the sentence you say to yourself when you think about wanting something? Not the polished version. The one underneath. The one that sounds reasonable but has quietly been keeping you in the same place.

Say it out loud. Write it down. It needs to leave the inside of your head.

Then ask:

• How old is this story?
• Whose life was I watching when I decided this was true?
• Is this a fact — or is this a story I’ve been living inside as if it were a fact?

Those two things are not the same. And knowing the difference changes everything.

What Changed for Raquela

Raquela started the business. Not because the timing was perfect. Not because life settled down. It didn’t. Life never does.

She started because she finally saw the story for what it was.

A few months later, she said: “I still hold things together. That part didn’t change. But now I know it’s a choice. And when it’s a choice, there’s no resentment in it. And when I choose myself at the same time, everything has room to breathe.”

What does she say to herself now?

"I hold things together because I want to. And I also get to want things for myself. Both are true."

For 20 years she repeated one sentence. Now she repeats a different one. That is not a small thing.

Resources & Links:

•Episode 31 — The Real Reason Successful Women Feel Stuck](link to Episode 31)

•Episode 21 — The Micro Rebellion

•Episode 5 — You're Not Lost. You're Buried.

•Midlife Reinvention Starter Guide — Free Download

Are you ready to finally give yourself permission to want more? 🙌

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Whether you found this show on your own or someone who loves you sent it your way, welcome to The Joy Shift podcast family. This episode is not just for you. Please share it with every woman in your life who is successful on paper but still searching for something more. It could change everything for her.

It is such an honor to do this work alongside you. And please note: I am not a licensed therapist, and this podcast is not intended as a substitute for the advice of a physician, professional coach, psychotherapist, or other qualified professional.

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She said the same sentence to herself for 20 years.

I'm the one who holds everything together, so I can't want something just for me.

The part.

The.

The strange part was, by the time we met, she didn't even know she was saying it anymore.

It just felt like the truth.

And once she finally saw it for what it was, she couldn't unsee it.

Welcome to the joy shift.

I'm Kylie Suarez.

Before we go in, if this is your first time here, hit the follow right now.

Not because I'll guilt you into it, but because what we're doing today is the kind of conversation you'll want to come back to.

And if you've been for a while, I'm so glad you're still showing up.

Now let's get into the shift.

The moment a woman realizes the belief she has been organizing her entire life around is not a fact and it's a story.

And once she sees it, she cannot unsee it.

That is what we're doing here today.

Her name is Raquela, and that's not her real name, but she's given me permission to share her story.

She used.

She was 54 when she came to me.

She had a career she was proud of, a marriage that worked, kids who turned out super well.

And from the outside, her life looked exactly like the life you're supposed to build.

And she had this sentence.

I'm the one who holds everything together, so I can't want something just for me.

She started saying it in her mid-30s.

By the time we met, she didn't even know she was saying it anymore.

It had gone underground.

It just felt like the truth.

Except she had this dream she kept circling a small business, something of her own, not world changing, just hers.

And every time she got close, she pulled back.

The reasons changed, but the sentence underneath the reasons never did.

It was not the right time.

There was too much going on in her life.

I'll do it when things settle down.

It sounds responsible.

It sounds mature.

It sounds like the kind of thing a woman who loves the people in her life would say.

And it is one of the most effective ways a woman can disappear from her own life without anyone noticing, including herself.

And if you're listening now thinking that sentence sounds a little familiar, stay with me.

Raquela's sentence didn't come from nowhere.

It came from watching her mother.

Her mom worked two jobs.

Her dad was technically around, but not really around.

Her mother held everything together.

The house, the bills, the kids, every school event.

Tired but smiling and never Once complaining, Racailla didn't need anyone to explain the rules.

She watched.

And by the time she was nine years old, she had a clear picture of what a good woman looked like.

A good woman carries things quietly.

A good woman does not ask for more than she has.

And a good woman is the one who holds everything together.

She was mirroring what she saw.

Raquela's story worked.

She was reliable.

She was trusted.

She was the person everyone counted on, the glue of the family.

And she was good at it.

When a belief produces results, and when it gets you praised and needed and loved, it stops feeling like a belief.

It becomes who you are.

You cannot question what you cannot see.

And you cannot see what has become the air you breathe.

I need to tell you mine.

For years, I built a career.

First as a CPA at Arthur Anderson, then went on to Dun and Bradstreet.

There I worked in accounting and finance.

The kind of work where you are the person in the room with the answers, where competence is the whole point.

And your professional identity becomes something you wear, like a suit, and the suit fits and people respect the suit, and that's what they expect from you.

Then we moved back to Puerto Rico once my husband finished his residency and my husband started his urology practice, and I ran the back end of the new period in our life.

Billing, accounting, payroll, the whole shebang.

And I did this for.

And I still do, actually, for over 25 years.

But throughout those years of building a practice, I was fiddling, researching, studying, entertaining the idea of writing romance, because to me, that's one of the best genres ever, personally speaking.

But for a full year, I was secretly writing romance novels.

Yeah, around the 24th year, in the evenings after dinner, when the house got quiet and my husband knew I was writing, but he didn't know what was the genre nor what I was writing.

He could care less.

Right now, he was just like, okay, you're writing.

But.

Because every time I imagined saying it out loud, I felt this strange embarrassment, like I was about to admit something I wasn't sure I was allowed to want.

There's one night I remember clearly.

The house was quiet.

I was deep in the story, completely lost in it.

And if you're ever.

And if you've ever written anything, you know what.

That feeling, it's like being in the flow.

You know, you hear about it, but you know it.

Then I heard the door open.

My husband walked in, and I.

Without thinking, I closed that laptop so fast your head could spin.

Not because he would have judged me he wouldn't have.

I closed it because I judged me.

Because the story I had been living inside said, you are the serious one, the responsible one, the accountant, the woman who makes practical decisions and choices.

And romance novels are not practical, nor do they fit in the scenario.

They are not serious.

They are something you want for yourself.

And the moment I closed that laptop, I was Raquela.

I was choosing the sentence over the dream.

It took me a full year to stop closing the laptop.

Raquela and I had been working together for about six weeks.

We had talked about the career, the marriage, the dream she kept almost starting.

And one day she said it again.

I just need to wait until things settle down.

And something in me went still, because I recognized it.

Not as an excuse, as a story.

So I asked her one question.

Raquela, when in your life has it ever fully settled down?

She stopped, her shoulders dropped, she exhaled, the kind of exhale that comes when something you've been holding finally loosens, like deep in your soul.

And after a long moment, she said, never.

It has never fully settled down.

So I asked her the next question.

If you're waiting for settled down to give yourself permission, what are you actually waiting for?

I don't fix people.

Raquela fixed Rakela.

What I did was ask the question that made the the story visible.

The light switch.

Go on.

Because you cannot leave a room.

You cannot see.

That is the work.

Not pushing, not prescribing, not telling someone what to do.

All change has to come from within.

Asking the question that makes her pause.

Because once she pauses, she sees it.

And once she sees it, she cannot unsee it.

That is the shift Raela couldn't change what she couldn't name.

So the first thing he did was say the sentence out loud.

The one she had been living inside for 20 years.

I'm the one who holds the everything together.

So I can't want something just for me.

And I asked her, where did that sentence come from?

How old is it?

And she thought for a moment and then she said, eight.

She was eight years old when she built that belief.

An eight year old trying to be understand how to be good in the world.

The story wasn't a flaw, it was a child trying to make meaning.

But Raquela was 54 now, and she was still running the eight year old software program in her brain.

So here's the question for you.

And in her nervous system.

If you think about it, take a breath.

You don't have to have the answer right now.

Just let the question land what is the sentence you say to yourself when you think about wanting something?

Not the polished version, the one underneath, the one that sounds reasonable but has quietly been keeping you in the same place, the same loop.

Say it out loud.

Write it down.

It needs to leave the inside of your head and it take up space in the room.

And when you have it, hold it gently.

Ask, how old is this story?

Whose life was I watching when I decided this was true?

Then ask the question that breaks it open.

Is this a fact?

Or is this a story I've been living inside?

As if it were a fact?

Those two things are not the same, and knowing the difference changes everything.

Raquela started the small business not because the timing was perfect, not because life settled down.

It didn't.

Life never does.

She started because she finally saw that moment.

A few months ago.

She said something that stayed with me.

I still hold things together.

That part didn't change.

But now I know it's a choice.

And when it's a choice, there's no resentment in it.

And when I choose myself at the same time, everything has room to breathe.

I asked her one last question.

What do you say to yourself now?

She thought for a moment.

Then she said, I hold things together because I want to.

And I also get to want things for myself.

Both are true.

For 20 years she repeated one sentence.

Now she repeated a different one.

That is not a small thing.

That is a woman who looked at the story she had been living inside and decided she was allowed to write a new one.

That is exactly what is possible for you.

That's the Joy Shift.

If something in today's episode made you pause, I want to invite you to into that pause.

I offer complimentary clarity calls.

They're exactly the kind of conversation you heard today, the one where the sentence finally becomes visible.

You can book yours@kylieswares.com clarity if someone came to mind while you were listening, send this episode to her.

You probably know exactly who I mean.

And if this is your first time here, follow the show.

Friday's episode is the Quiet Companions of today.

Just you, three prompts and the space to sit with the question we opened here.

I'll see you Friday.