Hey friend,

I grew up Catholic, so every single week I stood up in a pew and said the Creed in one voice with everyone around me. I believe in God, the Father Almighty… Beautiful, ancient words. Words someone wrote long ago and handed us to say together — and I still love them.

Then not long ago, I caught myself in the quiet afterward and wondered: okay… what else do I believe? Not to replace a word of it — just to add my own. If I had to write my own creed, the things I believe so deeply they hold me up when the world gets loud and shaky, what would be on that list?

Turns out I’d never once stopped to ask.

And here’s what I found in that blank: when you don’t know what you believe, you end up living by everyone else’s. Their convictions. Their rules. Their idea of a good woman. You borrow other people’s beliefs until, one day, you look up and you’ve quietly become the supporting character in your own life — the helper, the good girl in the background. (I know that role by heart. I played it for decades, and so have most of the women I coach.)

That’s Good Girl Ghosting at the foundational level. Not just disappearing from a room. Disappearing from your own beliefs.

So this week, we’re writing your credo — the bedrock you stand on when everything else gets loud. Not a lecture. Not thirty commandments. Three true things.

And before that blank page scares you off — this is not the journal that asks “what do you want?” and leaves you spiraling in front of an empty line. I’m handing you the stem and three doorways in. Borrow whichever one cracks you open:

Then finish this sentence, in the simplest words you’ve got:

I believe ______.

No theology degree required. No performance. Just the quiet, true things you already know in your bones. In fact, writing that little stem is what unlocked most of mine.

JOY NUGGET (put this one on your list if you only write one):

You’re allowed to believe that joy is holy and play is prayer — that God actually giggles when you laugh, because it delights Him.

PINKIE-TOE STEP (the tiny, brave one)

Write three “I believe” lines — three, not thirty. Then read them out loud, like the leading lady you’ve always been. If your eyes sting a little or your chest goes warm, that’s how you know they’re yours. That’s the whole step.

PLAY PROMPT (because it's the weekend...and this one's just for fun!):

Do one gloriously ridiculous thing on purpose.

Apologize out loud to the chair you bump into.

Thank your coffee maker.

Throw a twenty-second kitchen dance party for an audience of nobody.

Then notice: the silly parts are some of the best parts — and you’re allowed to keep them.

​▶ WATCH THIS WEEK’S EPISODE ON YOUTUBE​

The letter gave you the practice. The episode gives you the rest — my own “I believe” list read out loud, the four-generations-and-one-beach-ball story that still makes my heart happy, and the permission slips I wrote just for you.

You were never the supporting character in your own life. You’re the leading lady — and you always were.

I’ll meet you back here.

Reclaim your JOY,

— Rachel ~ xoxo

P.S. It finally rained in Phoenix this week — not the thunder-and-lightning I grew up on (Toto...err, Hershey, we are not in Texas anymore), just a slow, steady, ten-minute rain, so soothing, and now everything out my window is impossibly green.

P.P.S. I also survived getting a crown (and not the joyful, playful kind) at the dentist that left my whole face feeling three sizes too big, so I went and got a pedicure in my Rebel pink. Every time I look down, it makes me grin.

Small joy, chosen on purpose. That's the secret, friends!