Born to Nguyen

In September,

I was a girl with tired thumbs

and a hungry soul,

scrolling through borrowed dreams

on a glowing screen

that never loved me back.

I was stitched together

with old fears and new hopes,

lost in loops

of other people’s voices,

wondering why my own

felt so faint.

I kept asking the universe,

“What makes me different?”

as if the answer lived

in someone else’s feed.

I prayed for a sign,

for a fresh season,

for a reset that felt like mercy.

And quietly,

somewhere between

a late-night sigh

and a whispered “God, help me,”

a seed split open.

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Now—

I am the woman

who rose from that moment

without even noticing

how powerful she had become.

I no longer chase meaning

through strangers’ hearts.

I carry my own meaning

in my hands,

in my voice,

in the worlds I build

with pastel colors

and trembling joy.

I stopped begging the algorithm

to see me

and instead created a universe

where people come

because they already do.

I am the girl

who once doomscrolled herself numb—

now running a business

that wakes others up.

The girl

who once asked,

“What do I want?”

now answers with her life.

I am no longer

the stranger tapping on screens

looking for pieces of myself

in other people’s reflections.

I am the reflection.

I am the signal.

I am the start of my own season.

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If September me could see me now,

she would cry—

not from sadness,

but from relief.

From pride.

From knowing she didn’t suffer in vain.

She’d whisper,

“I knew you were magic.

I just needed you to believe it too.”

And I’d whisper back,

RockWithJenny emerged as a girl who could hold chaos in one hand

and transform it into wonder with the other.

She walks between worlds—

one foot in reality,

one in the pastel, glowing realm she crafted herself.

Where others saw trinkets, she saw portals.

Where others sold toys, she built community.

Where others doubted, she rose.

Her power is rare:

the ability to turn small joys into lifelines,

to summon excitement from the hush of a mystery bag,

to send comfort across a livestream

like a beam of soft golden light.

She carries scars, but polishes them into diamonds.

She is fueled by rejection yet softened by kindness.

She is unstoppable because she keeps going

even when her voice shakes.

In RockCity, legends say she can shift the energy of a room

with one laugh,

one reveal,

one moment of “Are you ready?”

And they follow her—

Collectors, dreamers, night owls,

misfits drawn to her glow.

Her presence rewrites probability itself:

Where she stands,

hope respawns.

Where she speaks,

worlds unfold.

Where she dreams,

characters are born.

She is the Kawaii Alchemist,

the architect of wonder,

the girl who turned her healing into a universe

Back at my parents’ house, I drowned in the ache, shopping bags like barricades I couldn’t break. Debt piled higher than the walls of my grief, I tried to buy healing, but it gave no relief.

I lost almost everything, my footing, my flame, but February whispered, you can start again. One shaky step, then another in line, healing is messy but the journey is mine.

From Cape Canaveral, I whisper to the stars, I’m almost ready to launch, but I don’t know who we are. Is the world ready for me, or am I still too weak? Am I brave enough to say the words I need to speak?

We flew down to Curaçao, he was hitting half a century and I was at my wits end, I was looking for safety. The ocean was too quiet, the sky too blue, and I kept counting the ways I was slipping through.

He tried to hold me down, tried to keep me in, and when I asked a simple question, his eyes went dim. Black as a warning, rage in the room, his screaming followed me all the way home.

I’d already decided I needed to get off TikTok for a bit, but last week when news broke about Charlie Kirk’s death I felt a deep, automatic empathy. I’m an empath — I watched his YouTube, didn’t dig into his politics, but something about the videos I saw touched me.

A month or so ago I started a group chat for people I interact with in the ToyBeta mystery box room on TikTok. I added about thirty people and named it “TB.” I made five folks admins — the ones I talk with most — because I didn’t want the chat to be run like a monarchy. I wanted it to feel democratic, like everyone had a voice.

One of the admins, Kate, left the group within 24 hours of my mentioning Charlie Kirk. I was stunned. Someone had died. I was expressing grief, and she left. It felt…cold. If someone’s mourning makes you uncomfortable, does that mean you can’t be in a space with them? It made me realize the chat wasn’t the safe, open place I thought it was.

Do what you love. Do what you’re good at.

Whatever is working—keep doing it. If it brings you joy, lean into it. Keep it, treasure it, honor it. If it doesn’t, let it go. Leave it behind and forget it.

At the end of the day, you only have you by your side, every single day. Put God first, and He will guide you.

Somewhere along the way, I forgot how much I loved life—and how cool I really am.

Instead, I got stuck doomscrolling on TikTok. And now? I’ve officially run out of algorithm juice. I’ve scrolled through all of TikTok, y’all. Same channels, same faces, the same nothingness on repeat.

And I can’t help but think: these people are doing absolutely nothing. What makes them any different from me? An algorithm. That’s it. Just a string of zeros and ones, programming us, feeding us, translating life for us. What once felt like science fiction is now our reality—and we barely notice.

So I asked myself: if I’m really going to take on this challenge, what do I want to do? I want to make sales. And to make sales, I need to attract customers.

But what am I doing right now? Begging strangers for likes—little taps on a screen. Begging, the same way someone on the street begs for change. And I had to stop and ask—what makes me any different?

Today, I decided: I want a different path. A different season. A reset. October is coming—spooky season, a new season.

So here it is: Wednesday, September 24, 2025, 2:51 p.m. Let this be the marker. The moment I said “enough.”

No more wasting six hours a day giving away box openers just to keep people’s attention.

Instead—I’m going to do what I was made to do. I’m going to write.

Hey cuties! 💕 I’m Jenny — and this is RockWithJenny.com 🎀 Your cozy corner for:

🌸 Plush pendants & bag charms 🎁 Blind boxes & mini figurines 🌈 Sparkly jewelry + kawaii accessories 🎥 Live reveals & surprise moments

What you’ll find here:

✨ Plush Pendants — clip-on cuties for bags & backpacks. ✨ Blind Boxes — sealed surprises and revealed picks you can shop instantly. ✨ Live Specials — raffles, UFCs (“Up-For-Chance”), and community trades. ✨ Bundles & Gifts — perfect for swaps, birthdays, or just because.

How TikTok Live Works 🎥

Join the stream (say hi!)

Watch real-time reveals 💌

Claim your pick in chat

Checkout via TikTok Shop or RockWithJenny.com

Keep it, trade it, or try UFC if offered!

💜 Why shop with Jenny? Because it’s always cozy, kawaii, and community-first. No stress, no spam, just sparkles ✨

🌟 Links You’ll Love

🔗 Shop New Arrivals 🔗 See Live Schedule 🔗 Shop Plush Pendants 🔗 Browse All Collections

TL;DR: You can’t force accountability—but you can protect your peace. Name what happened, decide what you need, set a boundary, and close your own loop with practices that restore you.

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Why lack of an apology hurts

• Apologies validate reality. When they don’t come, it can feel like your pain is being erased.

• Your brain craves closure. Without it, we ruminate—trying to “solve” the past.

• Power dynamics show up. Some people avoid apologizing to dodge consequences or discomfort.

Knowing this doesn’t make it okay—but it explains why you feel stuck. Good news: you can move without their participation.

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A simple 7-step plan to move forward

1) Name it plainly (to yourself)

Write one clear sentence: “X did Y. It was wrong because Z. It affected me by A, B, C.”

This anchors you in facts, not spirals.

2) Decide your aim

Pick one primary goal:

• Repair the relationship

• Protect your distance

• Get practical change (policy/process)

• Close your own loop and move on

Different aims = different actions.

3) Make a clean request (optional)

If repair matters, ask once—clearly.

• Script: “Last Tuesday, you shared my private info without asking. That broke trust and put me in a tough spot. I’d like an acknowledgement and a plan to keep it from happening again.”

Then pause. Give them room to respond. If they dodge, you have your data.

4) Set a boundary you control

Boundaries are actions you take, not punishments you give.

• Personal: “I’m not discussing my dating life with you going forward.”

• Work: “I’ll confirm decisions in writing to avoid repeats.”

• Family: “I’ll visit for an hour; if voices rise, I’ll head out.”

5) Close your own loop

Since they didn’t apologize, offer yourself what you needed to hear:

• Write an “apology letter you deserved,” from them to you.

• Or record a voice note to yourself: “You weren’t overreacting. What happened was not okay, and your feelings make sense.”

• Rituals help: delete a text thread, take a grounding walk, say a prayer, or light a candle to mark the end of the rumination cycle.

6) Choose the right distance

Not everyone earns the same access.

• Full distance: Block/mute, change routes, decline events.

• Strategic distance: Group settings only, no sensitive topics, clear time limits.

• Calibrated closeness: Continue—but with new rules and checkpoints.

7) Reinvest your energy

Move energy from the person to your life: health, creative work, faith practice, friendships that pour back into you.

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Words you can use (save these)

If you want repair

• “I care about us. I need acknowledgement and a plan so this doesn’t repeat.”

• “I’m open to moving forward, but only with accountability.”

If you want clarity without debate

• “I’m not asking for a back-and-forth. I wanted you to know the impact. I’m adjusting my availability accordingly.”

If you need distance

• “This didn’t meet my standard for respect. I won’t be engaging further.”

If they minimize

• “Intent matters, and so does impact. I’m talking about the impact.”

If they flip the script

• “We can discuss your concerns after you’ve acknowledged what I raised.”

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What to do with the “itch” to keep checking their response

Your brain seeks a reward (their apology). Replace the loop with small, satisfying actions:

• Put your phone in another room for 25 minutes.

• Do a 2-minute cold water face splash—pattern interrupt.

• Text a safe friend: “Tell me one stabilizing truth about me.”

• Micro-task that moves your life 1% forward (pay a bill, tidy a drawer, list one item for sale).

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If this is at work

• Document neutrally: dates, facts, impact, your requests.

• Move to process, not personalities: “Going forward, decisions will be documented in the project brief.”

• If needed, escalate with clarity, not emotion: attach the timeline and the specific ask.

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If this is family

• Expect history to show up. Old roles make apologies harder.

• Pre-plan exits: drive yourself, book an end time, step outside if heat rises.

• Use “both/and”: “I love you, and I won’t stay in conversations where I’m insulted.”

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Mindset reframe (that isn’t toxic positivity)

• You’re responsible for your healing, not their learning.

• Their refusal to apologize is information. Believe it.

• Closure is a skill. It gets faster with practice.

⸻

Journal prompts (pick one)

1. What would an ideal apology include? How can I give myself those elements?

2. What standard do I want to set for access to me?

3. If I had no hope of an apology, what would I do next?

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Faith-forward option (if it resonates)

• Pray for clarity and steady heart: guidance on the next right step.

• Forgiveness is a release of your burden, not a reunion with harm. Boundaries still stand.

⸻

Red flags: get extra support if…

• You’re doubting your reality (possible gaslighting).

• There’s intimidation, threats, or isolation.

• You’re in cycles of harm. Safety planning > reconciliation.

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A tiny, do-today checklist

• Write the one-sentence reality.

• Choose my aim.

• Send (or don’t) one clean request.

• Set one boundary I control.

• Do one loop-closing ritual.

• Reinvest 20 minutes into me.

I’ve spent over a decade recording pieces of my life I never had the courage to share—until now. I’m finally ready to face my fears and open up.

My hope is that by telling my story, it will inspire and uplift anyone walking through their own dark season.

If I made it out of three years of hell and found meaning on the other side, maybe sharing it will bring peace—not just for me, but for anyone who needs to know they’re not alone.

xoxo,

Over the past few days, I’ve experienced a whirlwind of emotions—a mix of hope, excitement, and reflection. Life feels unpredictable, yet somehow exhilarating, as though I’m standing on the edge of something transformative.

Gratitude and Spiritual Reflection

I can’t ignore how grateful I am for the small yet significant moments that have shaped me. I’ve prayed for guidance, and I feel those prayers have been heard. It’s comforting to think that there’s a divine force steering me toward clarity and purpose. These moments of gratitude remind me to stay grounded and hopeful, no matter how chaotic life becomes.

Embracing Change

I’ve realized the importance of embracing who I am—flaws, strengths, and all. For too long, I’ve hesitated to step into my own power, held back by fear of judgment or failure. But now, I’m determined to be fearless and confident. This isn’t about perfection; it’s about owning my story and showing up authentically.

Creativity and Organization

Writing has always been my way of processing the world around me. It’s where I find clarity amid the noise. Recently, I’ve been inspired to clean up my digital files, organize my thoughts, and channel my creativity into meaningful projects. This isn’t just about tidying up; it’s about making space for what truly matters.

Reflections on Relationships

When I think about my past, I notice a pattern of longing—for connection, for validation, for something more. I’ve spent time reflecting on my relationships and how they’ve shaped me. Now, I’m ready to let go of old expectations and focus on building healthier, more fulfilling connections—starting with the one I have with myself.

A Commitment to Growth

This phase of my life is about showing up for myself, even when it’s difficult. I’ve set intentions to:

Prioritize self-care and mindfulness.

Organize my space and my thoughts.

Embrace challenges as opportunities for growth.

Pursue creativity and passion without fear.

Moving Forward

As I look ahead, I’m reminded of how far I’ve come. I may not have everything figured out, but I’m learning to trust the process. I’m finding joy in the little things and focusing on what truly matters. Most importantly, I’m committed to living with intention, gratitude, and an open heart.