My Diary: When your Voice. is too Loud for Their Agenda
When Silence Isn’t Peace, and Loyalty Becomes a Liability
From the beginning, I showed up for every event, even when I was mentally and emotionally breaking.
I may have not created this vendor group — but I helped build it.
Shop With Your Neighbor was launched in November of 2020. I joined as the Scentsy consultant in September 2021. From the day I joined, I poured in.
I showed up. I brought people in. I shared posts. I helped find vendors. I gave away products. I donated baskets – hundreds of dollars in baskets. I even delivered orders and the donated items myself.
I did it because I believed in the group and the idea of building something bigger than myself.
I thought it was a place for community — not competition.
But I was wrong.
The Shift: One Question Changed everything
On June 25th, 2025 I saw a post in the group that vendor spots were now something we had to apply for – even longtime vendors.
I felt the shift immediately.
Something was off. And my gut was already bracing.
So I reached out privately. Respectfully.
I asked the one question that had been sitting in my chest:
“Do I need to worry about my spot?”
It should’ve been simple.
But this past year hasn’t been simple. When Fayth got sick again in November, everything started to crumble. My mental health spiraled. Depression sank its claws in deeper. My business took hit after hit.
Life hasn’t let up.
So yeah…. this question wasn’t just about a vendor space.
It was about needing something to feel stable.
It was about needing an ounce of security.
But the response I got?
Cold. Distant. Vague.
No reassurance. No clarity. Just enough silence to confirm what my gut already knew:
Something was already in motion.
I looked at my husband, and I broke. Tears. Nausea. Panic. I couldn’t stop crying.
This group holds so many of my customers. I trused it would be a safe place to grow – and now everything I built inside that group, belonged to someone else.
My business wasn’t solely dependent on this group – but I poured into it.
And now? It gelt like I was being erased from it.
I’m terrified of losing my customers. Not because I don’t believe in what I do – but because they’re sitting in a space now where I’ve been pushed out and replaced and they have no idea.
The group message that said it all (without saying it)
Days later, I was pulled into a group message – me, the woman running the vendor group, and one of my very own teamies and someone I was once very close to.
Not just a friend.
Someone on my own team.
Someone I supported in business and in life.
But this wasn’t a conversation.
It wasn’t a check-in.
It was a decision, already made.
There was no collaboration here.
No mutual respect.
Just control, optics, and presentation.
The text I still replay in my head
After that message, I sent my friend a text.
I wasn’t angry.
I was hurting.
I was honest.
Her Reply?
No conversation.
No accountability.
Just silence and dismissal.
And yeah, I question whether I should’ve even sent that text. Was she pulled into something? Was she manipulated too? Was she offered a spot I wasn’t, and told a different version of the truth?
I’ll never really know.
But what I do know is this:
There were conversations.
Because how else was she even considered as a vendor to replace me?
The friendship that disappeared
Before that group message ever happened, I felt the shift.
She pulled away.
Became quiet.
Detached.
I tried to check in. Tried to understand. I felt it in my gut, but I kept hoping I was wrong.
I wasn’t.
She ghosted me.
She didn’t defend me or our friendship.
She didn’t even ask if I was okay, knowing how much I had been going through – before all of this, or even today. But I still was showing up for her! Because I cared. I still care.
And honestly? That hurts more than the replacement.
More than the group message.
More than the vague responses.
Because this was someone I trusted with my story. My life. My daughter’s life. My trauma. She wasn’t just a team member – she was my friend.
The post that wasn’t about me…. but absolutely was
After I shared my pain on my own timeline – not in the group, not tagging anyone, just processing – I opened Facebook to see this: “Facebook should be called ‘My Diary’…. lately, that’s a pretty accurate description of posts, passive aggressive behavior, and thoughts you should keep in your head.”
Facebook should be called ‘My Diary’…. lately, that’s a pretty accurate description of posts, passive aggressive behavior, and thoughts you should keep in your head.
I didn’t comment. I didn’t say anything. But I saw it.
It was aimed at me.
At others who share their pain publicly.
At people who dare to speak the truth without sugarcoating it.
It was meant to shame.
To mock.
To silence.
But here’s the thing:
This “diary” of mine? It’s survival.
It’s not about drama.
It’s about healing.
It’s how I process trauma, own my story, and stop letting people like her pretend they didn’t help cause the pain I’m now untangling.
If my truth makes you uncomfortable, maybe you should ask why — and what part you played in it.
The message that proved her real intentions
The truth came out in another message – one that shattered any illusion of “community.”
It was never about people.
It was about growth.
Numbers. Fake profiles. Replacing loyalty with whatever was “convenient.”
She told me I placed 12th in sales.
Told me the group needed a refresh and needed to grow.
Told me she wanted to tag-team two consultants in the same Direct Sales Company – me and my downline.
Told me it was a “win-win.”
But if you know me, you know this:
I will never compete with anyone on my team.
Ever.
That is not who I am.
I don’t leed with greed.
That is not leadership.
That is not loyalty.
And when I spoke my truth? She told me how I should feel. Told me how I should heal. Told me to “stop dwelling on the past.”
But here’s what she doesn’t understand:
I’m not stuck in the past.
I’m just finally done pretending it didn’t happen.
The accountability post that made me sick
Then came the final straw.
July 31st. A post on her personal page. A graphic. A quote. A declaration about accountability and moral integrity:
We owe people something. You owe an apology to those you’ve offended. You owe gratitude to those who’ve supported you. You owe respect to those you’ve disrespected. Accountability is a personal act of integrity….
Who do you think you are?
After the lies? After the replacement? After the public mockery?
Don’t post about accountability if you’re not willing to look in the mirror.
Why I am finally speaking up
Because I’ve been silenced before.
Because I’ve been ghosted, replaced, and erased – like I never mattered
Because I gave years of my life to help build something I truly believed in.
A space I thought was about community.
A space I thought was safe.
And the moment I became ‘inconvenient”?
I was tossed aside like none of it meant anything.
Many of my customers are still in that group.
All the vendor events I helped — pouring in my own money, my time, my trust.
All the energy I gave through the years…. still there.
But me?
I’m not a vendor in there anymore.
I was replaced.
I was thrown out — because I didn’t want to compete with someone on my own team.
Someone I considered a friend.
Just like that.
Swapped out for someone else who would “help the group grow.”
Because for them, it was never really about people. Or loyalty.
It was about numbers. Control. Ego.
But here’s what I’ve learned:
When people care more about control than connection…
When they swap the truth for convenience….
When they preach “community” but choose performance every time….
That’s not a safe space.
That’s not a community.
That’s a machine.
And it’s definitely not a space I want my customers — or any small business trying to grow — to be part of.
Because what happened to me?
I never want to see happen to anyone else.
The Truth I’ve Held In
I’ve been in a horrible place since this all happened.
It’s August 30th, and I’m just now ready to hit publish.
Mentally. Emotionally. Physically.
I feel like I’ve lost something I gave so much of myself to.
I’m scared to lose my customers.
I’m scared to speak up.
And I’m scared of being misunderstood.
This isn’t something I wrote in a moment of anger.
This has lived in my chest for months.
I’ve cried.
I’ve questioned everything.
I’ve sat in silence trying to figure out how I ended up feeling like nobody in a space I truly thought was a safe space.
And I’m tired.
Tired of being sick to my stomach every time I remember that the next online event is coming up in September.
Tired of the anxiety that maybe…. maybe I’m going to lose customers.
That maybe I’m going to lose a business I’ve spent years building – even when I was going through some of my darkest days.
That the trust I built — with real people — is sitting in a place I was erased from without a second thought.
But today?
I’m done being quiet.
I’m not going to stay scared of what might come from me finally posting my truth.
Because my story matters too.
My voice matters.
And no one gets to erase that again.
What’s Next for me?
I’m not giving up.
I won’t let anyone knock me down.
I may have been down for a little — but I’m rising again.
Because this story isn’t over.
No one gets to take away what I’ve worked so hard to build.
My VIP group will always be a place of safety — for my customers, for myself, and for anyone who wants to support a business built on loyalty, truth, and connection.
And now, I’m ready for what’s next.
In December, I’ll be hosting alongside Operation Fayth an in-person vendor event — one where community actually means something. Where no one’s silenced or replaced because they speak their truth.
Where the energy we pour in is respected, not erased.
And beyond that?
I will be building a new online vendor space — one where real connection is prioritized, not performance.
Where loyalty is valued, not discarded.
Where no one has to compete with their own team members, or feel like they’re disposable the second they set a boundary.
I didn’t walk away from that group.
I was replaced — the second I chose integrity over performance.
And now, I’m choosing something better.
Something real.
Something honest.
Something built from the same chaos that once tried to break me.
If you’re still reading this…
Thank you for seeing me.
Thank you for standing beside me.
Thank you for not looking away when it got uncomfortable.
This has been one of the hardest things I’ve ever walked through.
But I’m still standing.
And now? I get to rebuild — my way.
Because my story’s not over.
It’s just beginning.
