Okay, I’m going to ask you a question that nobody has probably ever asked you before.

When you look at your life, are you staring at the hole — or are you seeing the whole donut?

Stay with me on this one. Because as silly as it sounds, this might be one of the most useful questions you ask yourself all week. Maybe all year.

We Always See the Hole First

Here’s what I notice — in myself, in the people I work with, in just about everyone I know.

When we look at our lives, the first thing we zoom in on is what’s missing.

The gap between where we are and where we think we should be. The relationship that didn’t work out the way we planned. The dream we set down somewhere and haven’t picked back up. The body that doesn’t move the way it used to. The career we’re not sure about anymore. The season of life we definitely didn’t sign up for.

For caregivers, this one hits especially hard. Because when your world revolves around someone else’s needs — their appointments, their medications, their comfort, their safety — it’s easy to look at your own life and see mostly empty space. The things you used to do. The person you used to be. The plans that got shelved indefinitely.

I’ve been there. After my husband’s accident, I looked at my life and all I could see was the hole. The future we’d planned together — gone. My freedom — gone. My sense of who I was outside of caregiving — gone. I was so fixated on everything that had been taken from me that I couldn’t see what was still there.

And here’s the thing about staring at the hole: it doesn’t make the hole smaller. It just makes everything else disappear.

The Hole Isn’t a Flaw — It’s Part of the Design

Now, let’s go back to the donut for a second. Because this is the part that gets me.

Nobody picks up a donut and thinks, “Well, this would be great if it weren’t for this gaping hole in the middle.” That would be ridiculous. The hole is part of what makes it a donut. It’s part of the design. Without it, you’d have a blob of dough, and honestly, that’s a different thing entirely.

What if the open spaces in your life work the same way?

What if the gap isn’t evidence that something went wrong — but room for something that hasn’t arrived yet?

What if the empty space isn’t a sign of failure but the breathing room your life actually needs to hold its shape?

I didn’t understand this for a long time. I fought the gaps. I tried to fill every open space with doing, fixing, managing, controlling. And all it did was exhaust me. It wasn’t until I stopped trying to close every hole and started asking, What could grow here? that things began to shift.

The space I thought was emptiness? Turns out it was possibility.

You Were Made to Rise (Even When You Feel Stuck)

Here’s a fun donut fact for you, since we’re going there.

Donut dough doesn’t start light and fluffy. It starts heavy, sticky, and completely unrecognizable as the thing it’s going to become. It needs warmth. It needs time. And it needs to rest before it can rise.

Read that again. It needs to rest before it can rise.

How many of us skip that part?

We rush the process. We push through exhaustion because sitting still feels like falling behind. We tell ourselves that if things aren’t moving fast, something must be wrong. We look at other people’s lives — their highlight reels, their polished moments — and wonder why our dough is still sitting there, dense and uncertain.

I did this for years. After the accident, I threw myself into doing. Managing every detail. Saying yes to everything. Ignoring the signals my body was sending me. I thought rest was weakness. I thought asking for help was failure. I thought if I just kept going, the rising part would come.

It didn’t. Not until I finally let myself stop.

Rest isn’t the opposite of progress. It’s the ingredient that makes progress possible. Your body knows this. Your nervous system knows this. Every single living thing in nature knows this.

The tree doesn’t grow in winter. The bread doesn’t rise without rest. And you? You are not behind. You are becoming. The quiet, stuck-feeling part isn’t wasted time. It’s the work that happens before the rise.

Sweetness Doesn’t Happen by Accident

A donut doesn’t taste sweet by accident. Somebody chose the ingredients. Measured them carefully. Put in the time and the care.

Your life works the same way.

The sweetness in your life — the moments of joy, connection, meaning, peace — those aren’t random. They come from choices. Sometimes big ones. More often, small, quiet ones that nobody else sees.

The way you talk to yourself in the morning. Whether you choose kindness or criticism when you look in the mirror. The relationships you invest in. The boundaries you hold. The moments where you choose to breathe instead of react.

I ask my clients this question a lot: How can I love me more?

It’s not a grand gesture kind of question. It’s an ingredients question. What one small thing could you add to today that would make it a little sweeter? A little more yours?

Maybe it’s five minutes of quiet before the day starts. Maybe it’s a walk with no destination. Maybe it’s calling the friend who makes you laugh. Maybe it’s saying no to the thing that drains you and yes to the thing that fills you up.

Sweetness is a choice you make every day. It’s built, not found. And you deserve to make that choice, even when — especially when — life feels heavy.

You Don’t Have to Be “Finished” to Start

This one’s important, so I’m going to say it plainly.

The glaze on a donut? It’s the finishing touch. It’s what makes it shine. But it’s not what makes it good. The real substance is underneath.

I meet people all the time who are waiting to be “ready” before they start living. I’ll invest in myself when things calm down. I’ll pursue that dream when the timing is right. I’ll take care of me after everyone else is taken care of.

I waited too. For years. I told myself that my turn would come eventually. That once my husband was stable, once the medical stuff was sorted, once everything settled down, then I’d have time and space to figure out what I wanted.

That “eventually” never came. Not on its own. I had to choose it. Imperfectly, messily, while things were still very much not figured out.

And you know what? Starting before I was ready was the best thing I ever did. Because waiting for perfect conditions is just another way of telling yourself you don’t deserve to begin.

You don’t need to be finished. You don’t need to have it all together. You just need to take one honest step. The glaze comes later.

Own Your Flavor

Not all donuts are the same. And that’s the whole point.

Glazed. Filled. Powdered. Old-fashioned. Cake. Chocolate-frosted with sprinkles at 7 a.m. on a Tuesday just because you felt like it.

Your version of a full, meaningful life doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s. The caregiver who finds joy in morning walks with her dogs. The woman who rebuilds her career at 55. The person who finally says, “This is what I need” after years of putting everyone else first.

What works for someone else might feel completely wrong for you. And that’s not a flaw. That’s clarity.

When I finally stopped trying to follow someone else’s recipe for how to handle everything life had thrown at me and started trusting my own, that’s when things clicked. That’s when coaching found me. That’s when I started writing. That’s when my own flavor showed up.

Yours will too. But only if you stop apologizing for what makes you different and start leaning into it.

5 Donut-Inspired Reminders for Your Real Life

1. Stop staring at the hole.

The gap in your life isn’t proof that something went wrong. It might be room for what’s coming next. Shift your focus to what’s already whole, already good, already present. There’s more there than you think.

2. Give yourself permission to rest before you rise.

You are not a machine. You’re a human being who needs warmth, time, and space to become what you’re becoming. Rest isn’t laziness. It’s the ingredient the recipe calls for. Trust it.

3. Choose sweetness on purpose.

Ask yourself: How can I love me more today? One small, intentional choice. That’s all. A breath. A boundary. A moment of quiet. Sweetness is built from the inside out.

4. Start before you’re ready.

You will never feel finished enough, healed enough, or put-together enough to begin. Start anyway. The first step doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to be yours.

5. Own your flavor — unapologetically.

Your life, your path, your definition of “full” belongs to you. Stop comparing your donut to everyone else’s. Yours has a flavor they’ll never replicate. Lean into it.

You Are Whole

The next time you pick up a donut — or honestly, the next time you catch yourself fixating on everything that’s missing from your life — I want you to remember this:

The hole doesn’t define the donut. And what’s missing doesn’t define you.

You are whole. Right now. Not when you’ve healed completely. Not when you’ve checked everything off the list. Not when life finally “settles down.”

Right now. With the mess and the gaps and the uncertainty and the sticky parts that haven’t risen yet.

Allow what is. Acknowledge where you are. Adjust what you can. Adapt with grace.

You are rising. And the sweetest part of your story? It’s still being written.

Please don’t give up hope. You need you too.

Xoxo, Jenny