The only way to win more often is to know when to fold.
You’ve played life’s game long enough to know when something’s off, even if you can’t quite name it or identify it.
You’ve made bold moves. Folded when you thought you had to, and stayed in hands longer than made sense… because, at the time, staying felt safer than folding.
That was me.
Too Dangerous to Stay
Back then, I didn’t know how to trust my own voice — let alone follow it.
So I did what “good girls” were supposed to do.
I married the first man who took something from me I couldn’t get back.
It wasn’t love. It wasn’t a partnership.
It was a reaction… a way to make something “right” when there was no way to fix it.
From that moment forward, I walked a path full of reactive choices… one after another… thinking it was the only way to survive while maintaining some semblance of dignity.
Eventually, I found myself homeless.
Then, I married the next man who was kind to me. That was what I responded to… kindness.
It wasn’t about compatibility or safety.
It was someone who saw me and didn’t hurt me. At least, not at first.
Losing Pieces of Myself With Every Round
When he said, “Go earn us some money,” I did what he asked. Even when that meant stepping into a role I never imagined for myself — a high-class call girl.
Not because I was weak.
Not because I lacked ambition or intelligence.
But because I believed I had no other cards to play.
And I stayed in that hand… long past the flop, past the turn, past the river… losing pieces of myself with every round.
I thought folding meant failure. That if I walked away, it meant I was giving up… or giving in.
But here’s what I know now, and what I wish someone had told me then:
Folding isn’t failure. Folding is freedom.
It took me years — and more heartache than I care to count — to realize I wasn’t trapped. I didn’t believe I had the right to whisper, “No more!”
A reactive mindset convinces you there’s only one move left: disappearing yourself for the sake of peace, survival, or someone else’s comfort.
But here’s where everything started to shift.
Not with a lightning bolt or some grand revelation.
Just a quiet, strange little sentence that slipped into my thoughts:
“Hmm… isn’t that interesting?”
That’s all.
A pause. A breath. A moment where I saw myself from a slightly different angle.
Not as broken. Not as a victim. Just as a woman caught in a hand she no longer wanted to play.
That simple phrase cracked the door open, just enough for me to see I still had choices.
It didn’t all change overnight. But that moment planted a seed. And once it was there, I couldn’t unsee it.
Eventually, I walked away. From the relationship. From the performance. From the version of me who thought silence was strength and obedience was love.
It wasn’t easy. But it was mine.
It’s Your Turn to Stand Up
And that’s what I want for you.
Because maybe — just maybe — you’re still sitting at a table where you don’t belong.
Maybe you’re holding onto something that’s already cost you too much.
A job. A role. A relationship.
A belief you keep feeding because letting go feels too risky. Or maybe you’re the strong one everyone leans on — and you’re quietly drowning.
Oh, man, I’ve been there!
Or the accomplished one with a full life and an empty center.
You don’t have to stay and keep playing a hand that’s sucking the life right out of you.
You don’t have to prove your worth by enduring more pain.
Sometimes the boldest thing you can do is stand up, push back your chair, and whisper, “I’m done.”
Because you don’t control the cards life deals — but you do control how you play them.
And it’s not too late to realign your thinking and reclaim your seat at a different table.
You’ve still got a stack of chips.
What hand are you holding right now — and do you keep wishing you had folded it?
— Donna
PS: Here’s a peek at the working cover for the 10-Day Self-Talk Transformation guidebook, which is key to changing your inner dialogue so that you “know when to fold’em, when to hold’em, and know when to go all-in.”
