I have always followed the rules.

Not because I was afraid, but because structure made sense to me. Rules tell you where the edges are and I’m a color inside the line kind of girl. I grew up that way, worked that way, and lived that way (most of the time). My friends still tease me about it.

I grew up in a family where if you felt something, it showed on your face before you said a word. We could communicate with each other without saying anything at all. That kind of fluency teaches you to pay attention to what’s said and… what isn’t.

People have always described me as quiet. That's not quite right. I'm observing. I'm taking in the words people use and more importantly, the way they move. Small talk has never been my language. But presence has — and I could give it to anyone. The stranger ahead of me in line who starts talking gets my full attention. I genuinely want to know if they're okay.

For a long time, I held space for everyone except myself. Professionally, I built a career in risk and third-party oversight. I enjoyed identifying exposures and seeing what others overlooked. I was trained to follow the data where it led, even when it was uncomfortable. What I didn't realize for a long time was how I'd stopped applying those same skills to my own life.

I spent years in environments that asked me to perform a version of myself that was easier for everyone else to be around. I followed those rules too. I adjusted my tone and managed my presence, waiting for a sign clear enough to finally act on. You know, like change literally knocking on my door to say it had arrived. It never came.

What came instead showed up gradually. When I finally started paying attention to the patterns in my body and my reactions, everything shifted. Not the world, but my ability to read it.

I built Frankly Her not knowing I needed it first. It's for the woman who notices everything and says very little. She keeps the peace in every room but hasn't found peace in herself yet. She is done performing and is ready to face what she already knows.

I never questioned why my maiden name, Franklin, meant so much to me. Now I know. We don't let much get to us — but when something does, you'll see it on our faces before we say a word. This is me finally saying it out loud.

I am Frankly Her.