The Girl Who Can’t Speak in Full Sentences Deserves Respect Too
(And Maybe Even a Trophy, But I’ll Settle for Validation)
It could all be so simple.
Yet here I am, watching a video that completely validates my entire existence, and suddenly, I realize—it really is that simple. A woman is out here preaching about respecting women who can’t form full sentences, and I’ve never felt so seen. Because for so long, I thought my fragmented way of speaking meant I was lacking something—intelligence, coherence, credibility. But what if, instead, it means I am deeply present? What if it means I’m not broken, but actually tapped into something deeper than language itself???
Because here’s the thing—I’ve always struggled with verbalizing my thoughts. Not because I don’t have them (oh, trust me, the thoughts are swarming in there), but because my mouth can’t always keep up with my brain.
My sentences come out in fragments, my words sometimes in reverse, and according to my June fling last year, I also let out little hums without realizing I'm doing so. All these things that probably sound like riddles, mania, and a lack of sophistication to the untrained ear, make perfect sense to my brain. And for the longest time, I saw this as a flaw. Something to fix within myself. Something that made me less than.
So, naturally, I tried to fix it. Maybe if I read more books. Maybe if I rehearsed my thoughts before speaking or wrote a script. Maybe if I forced myself into a more structured, linear way of communicating, I’d finally be taken seriously. Then, then, then… But all that did was make me second-guess myself more.
Public speaking in my third-grade science class? Threw up in front of everyone. In middle school and high school, chorus and musical theatre helped me learn how to strengthen my voice, but also how to fake it till I made it—while conveniently hiding my voice among the chorus since I never intended to go for any roles in the spotlight. My teacher did manage to pull a little out of me, though, giving me a few lines in our productions of Hairspray and The Little Mermaid. Maybe even she saw something in me that I couldn't at the time.
By college, I got better at faking it, but only by dissociating the moment I stepped onto whatever 'stage' I was called to present on. I always told myself to just open my mouth and start, let my body take over, while my pride and ego went off to find dark corners to hide in. The shaking and sweating were always my giveaways, but otherwise, I was usually speaking from a somewhat blacked-out state—which, honestly, still happens sometimes. Even with my customers and their tarot readings, it’s like my brain resumes normal functioning and completely forgets what I said to them after the message is sent off. Maybe Spirit really is speaking through me...
And please don’t ask me to sing in front of you because your attention solely on me is exactly what makes it hard to perform. It's always been about the possibility of completely embarrassing myself by doing things the way I do them. I don’t want you to hear that I don’t speak or sing "perfectly," so you’ll just have to catch it in the car or overhear my concerts in the shower. That’s why I told everyone I was shy growing up, even though my mother said that wasn't true. She was right, I wasn’t—I was just afraid of being judged.
But what if the real problem wasn’t me and how I do things? What if the issue was that society just isn’t built to understand people who don’t package their thoughts in a neat little box with a bow on top? What if we’re not meant to be easily digestible?
The woman in the video talked about how women like me—women who pause, who hum, who speak in pieces rather than polished speeches—aren’t broken communicators. We’re feeling communicators. We’re sensing, absorbing, and living in a direct relationship with energy in real-time. We’re adding puzzle pieces together as we speak, not just regurgitating a script. And, honestly? That sounds kind of powerful and ethereal to me.
And yet, for so long, I’ve blamed myself for being misunderstood. When I told my mom about a recent experience with my daily tarot card pull and someone else's energy coming up in it, she assumed it made me anxious because I threw up after (which, was fair, but also—no).
What I was actually doing was having a calm morning, accepting a message from Spirit about that person I didn’t like. At this point, I recognize Spirit’s ability—and mine—to clock people's shit, so there was no reason for this to trigger me. It would be settled either way. That person in my life had yet to mirror the actions the cards picked up on, but I already sensed their energy being off and was just waiting to see how it played out. I tried to move on with my day, holding this sense of trust and surrender within myself, but my body still held their energy. And because it didn't align with mine, it had to purge it in whatever way it could until they were physically out of my life—which, as of yesterday, I decided they would be.
But the thing is, my body purges through crying or vomiting. And even when it starts with crying, it often leads to vomiting. Vomiting feels like violence to me—one of my least favorite experiences. It always hurts, leaving me exhausted and waiting for it to be over. If it’s not that, a crying spell triggers a migraine, which then triggers the vomiting.
But this time, I finally understood—this is simply how my body purges certain energies. This time, I was prepared. I didn’t freak out, cry, or fight it. I trusted my body to do what it needed to do, and in the end, it was actually my first painless vomiting experience. But to her? It was just, "Oh, Jordan was overwhelmed again," because my history has always suggested that to be true.
As I learn the patterns of my body, mind, and spirit, I realize how difficult it is to verbalize and explain them to others who don't quite understand. No matter how much I try, I’m often met with blank stares, unsolicited advice, or polite nods that scream, I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I support you, I guess. So I learned to write instead.
I started a blog instead of a podcast like the trend was because writing gave me time to structure my thoughts, to make them palatable, to access a thesaurus, and swap out words until I sounded like I had it all together. But even that is a form of dimming my light, innit? Another way of making myself more digestible instead of embracing the raw, unfiltered nature of how I actually think, talk, and feel.
Eventually, I found myself putting my voice out there more—on TikTok, doing tarot readings, and in conversations where I didn’t overthink every word. It turned into a form of exposure therapy.
Exposure therapy is a type of cognitive-behavioral therapy (CBT) in which you're gradually exposed to the things, situations, and activities that provoke fear and anxiety within you in safe and controlled environments. It can help treat a multitude of conditions such as phobias, post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), and panic disorder.
I've received so much feedback, specifically about my voice. The boss who didn’t pay me found immediate growth in her Instagram after using my voiceovers. My friends, after listening to my voice memos summarizing my blog posts, told me they’d rather hear me ramble than read long-form writing. My clients find my voice soothing, and now I’m even exploring vocal work... Me? The same girl who didn’t want the lead in her school musical, who couldn’t speak in front of her class?
And I realized: I’m not fractured. My way of expressing myself isn’t wrong; it’s just different. And the more I let myself be seen and heard as I am, the more I find that there are people who actually get it. Who actually get me.
Maybe that’s the secret. Not forcing ourselves into a mold that was never meant for us, but instead finding the people who see the magic in the way we naturally exist. Maybe the real flex is not being perfectly articulate, but being so in tune with the current of creation, of energy, of feeling, that words could never fully do it justice anyway.
So here’s to the women who can’t always form full sentences. The ones who hum and pause and piece their thoughts together like a symphony no one else can hear. The ones who speak in currents rather than in straight lines.
I see you. I respect you. And apparently, the cosmos does too. Grab that mic.
Thank you so much for reading The Divine Vitality!
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My heart for this blog has always been to share love, light, and healing openly, and I deeply desire that everyone who visits here finds something meaningful. At the same time, your support empowers me to keep creating, sharing, and learning as I pursue this as my career. Every bit of encouragement and support is a blessing, and I’m endlessly grateful to each of you for helping make this journey possible.
Thank you for being here💛
I love this, I finally feel seen 🤍
This is incredibly beautiful writing and self discovery!