The Day I Almost Shut It All Down:

The Truth About Leading a Notary Network

When I started my notary business, I was fueled by a quiet but persistent hope: that I wasn’t alone. That somewhere out there, there were other people like me, who understood what it felt like to drive across town in traffic just to be no-showed, who knew the weight of responsibility behind every signature, and who could laugh (or vent) about all the weird, wild things we see on the job.

But at the time, no one in my immediate circle really got it. Friends and family supported me, sure—but they didn’t get it. They didn’t understand what I was building. They didn’t know what it cost. I felt isolated in my own journey.

So, within a year and a half of launching JKC Mobile Notary, I created the Central California Notary Network (CCNN)—a space meant to connect, encourage, and support notaries who needed community just like I did.

At first, it was just a Facebook group. But it grew. And grew. And grew.

I started sharing what I was learning, offering free trainings, giving resources, answering questions, and coaching other notaries. People came. I kept showing up. And somewhere in all of that giving, I started losing myself.

Because not everyone was engaging.

Some showed up for the freebies but stayed silent. Others never returned. Engagement was hot, then cold. We cleared out inactive members. Welcomed new ones. Tried again. Over and over.

Still, there were pockets of magic—little ecosystems inside the network where referrals flowed, friendships blossomed, and people grew their businesses. My leadership team? Absolutely incredible. But even as those good things happened, a heaviness grew in me.

I was exhausted.

Tired of pouring out into silence.
Tired of being everyone’s resource.
Tired of wondering if what I built even mattered.

And when we transitioned to a paid membership model, the pressure cracked something open in me. I remember sitting at my desk one day and thinking:

I don’t want to do this anymore.

I was overwhelmed by the mental, emotional, and physical weight of running a business, coaching, creating content, managing a network, leading ministries, supporting my family, going back to college—and it hit me that the one thing that didn’t feel like it was feeding me was the very thing I created to bring me connection.

It felt ironic. It felt heavy.
And I wanted to walk away.

But here’s the turning point: I gave myself permission to feel all of that without reacting. I took it to trusted leaders. I talked to coaches. I reflected. And slowly, I came back—not with the same drive to prove anything, but with a new mindset:

I’ll lead this network in a way that aligns with my values, my boundaries, and my bandwidth.
If it’s received, beautiful. If it’s not, I’m still at peace.

That mindset shift was everything.

Because leadership isn’t about being everything for everyone, it’s about staying clear on what you are called to build—and being okay when not everyone wants to come along.

2025 was a year of letting go for me.
Of saying goodbye to long-term business relationships that no longer fit.
Of accepting that even beloved coaches and collaborators may grow in different directions.
Of simplifying, so I could keep showing up without burning out.

So yes, I almost shut it all down.

But I didn’t.

Because in the middle of the mess, I remembered my why—connection, encouragement, community. Not perfection. Not performance. Just space to be real and grow together.

And if you're a notary business owner who feels like you're carrying the world on your shoulders, here’s what I’ll say to you:

You're allowed to pause.
You're allowed to rethink.
And you're allowed to come back stronger—with new clarity, new boundaries, and a new rhythm that works for you.

You’re not alone.
And if you ever forget that, CCNN is still here.

Because I stayed.