The Night the Lights Didn’t Turn On
- Abrilina
- Jan 14
- 5 min read
How J Franco Built a Life, a Business, and a Faith That Refused to Collapse
There are moments that don’t look dramatic from the outside. No sirens. No cinematic music. Just a quiet sentence that changes everything.
For J, that moment came in the doorway of her apartment.
She flipped the light switch.
Nothing happened.
And her son, who was far too young to carry the weight of repetition, said four words that landed like a punch to the gut:
“Not again.”
That was it.
Not a financial spreadsheet.
Not a motivational quote.
Not a dream of entrepreneurship wrapped in glossy ambition.
Just the realization that instability had become familiar and that was unacceptable.
That night didn’t spark panic. It sparked resolve.
Because when your child expects the lights not to work, you understand something instantly and viscerally: this is no longer about money. This is about safety, trust, and responsibility.
That was the night J stopped romanticizing entrepreneurship....
...and started honoring it.
Built From Responsibility, Not Aesthetic Dreams
J’s story doesn’t begin with a passion project or a Pinterest board. It begins with necessity.
She became a single mother the moment she got pregnant. No runway, no adjustment period, no soft landing. Life demanded maturity immediately, and she answered.
Entrepreneurship wasn’t a “calling” she explored leisurely.
It was how she survived.
It was how she stayed present.
It was how she carried weight before she ever felt ready.
At the same time, she helped raise her niece because her sister-in-law worked 9-5 and J had the flexibility of being an entrepreneur. Family doesn’t clock out, and responsibility doesn’t wait for convenience.
That reality shaped how she built everything.
J doesn’t separate business from life.
She doesn’t build at the expense of people.
She doesn’t outsource integrity.
Her work reflects her values: intention, accountability, stewardship. When people depend on you, showing up isn’t optional...it’s non-negotiable.
The Faith Journey No One Posts About
J survived the kind of faith journey that doesn’t make it into testimonials.
She grew up in church. She had childlike faith. And then life happened. Real life. The kind that wounds deeply and quietly. The kind that leaves you asking hard questions.
So, she did what many people do.
She got angry at God.
She pulled away.
She tried to fill the ache with movement, success, accomplishment. Anything that might quiet the unrest.
Nothing worked.
Because nothing stayed full.
Eventually, she realized there had to be more...literally more to life. The kind of realization that doesn’t come with fireworks, just exhaustion. "If my life had a soundtrack, that Stacy Orico song “More To Life” would be it."
So she surrendered.
And surrender didn’t make her soft.
It grounded her.
Some days she looks like superwoman. Other days she looks like she fought a bear and lost. But her faith isn’t polished. It’s honest, messy, and real.
And that faith holds her when nothing else does.
The Cost Nobody Wants to Talk About
There is nothing glamorous about J Franco’s life. She would be the first to tell you.
No yachts.
No fake “matcha morning” aesthetics.
No designer-life cosplay.
Yes, she enjoys beautiful things: Louboutin's, Gucci, Prada, Louis Vuitton. Those are quirks. Joy. Fruit of labor.
They are not the story.
The real story looks like this:
Eleven years in her current business
A lifetime of entrepreneurship across multiple ventures
Two a.m. wake-ups for three a.m. start times when she was a makeup artist
Eighteen-to-twenty-four-hour workdays
Flying city to city, swapping pre-packed luggage, checking in on her son, and heading back out
Completing undergrad and grad school assignments on airplanes, in hotel rooms, in different countries
People saw the jet setting.
They didn’t see the exhaustion.
The pressure.
The fact that she built everything alone.
There was no phone a friend.
There was no fifty-fifty.
There was no ask the audience.
Every decision mattered because getting it wrong meant everything could fall apart.
That’s the cost she refuses to glamorize.
“She’s Too Much” (And Why That’s the Point)
People often describe J as hard. Ruthless. A bitch.
And she understands why.
When a woman moves with certainty, refuses to cut corners, and holds high standards, it unsettles people, especially in a world that rewards women for being agreeable and quiet.
But those standards weren’t born from ego.
They were forged in survival.
When your life is held together by strings, integrity isn’t optional.
When a child depends on you, excuses don’t pay bills.
When you built everything yourself, you don’t gamble with half-effort.
J lives as if everything she does is an offering.
She asks one grounding question:
Would this be worthy to lay at the feet of Jesus?
That question governs her boundaries, leadership, and expectations.
What some call harsh is actually reverence.
What they call ruthless is stewardship.
What they label a bitch is a woman choosing conviction over people-pleasing.
She is a Chayil woman—a woman of valor. Strength. Capability. Moral excellence.
She doesn’t shrink to be palatable.
She stands firm.
Why She Never Quit (Even When She Wanted To)
There was no dramatic “almost quitting” moment.
There were seasons instead. Long, heavy seasons. Where everything felt fragile, exhausting, and unfair.
There were ugly cries.
Angry prayers.
Full-on wrestling with God.
Her faith didn’t look gentle in those moments. It looked raw. It looked like refusing to leave the conversation even while furious.
And still...she showed up.
Not because she felt inspired.
Not because she had clarity.
But because surrender, for her, meant staying.
Staying in the work.
Staying in the responsibility.
Staying in the faith...messy, loud, uncomfortable.
That season didn’t polish her.
It made her real.
A Message for the Woman Who Was Never “Enough”
For years, J let others define her, especially what she wasn’t.
Not experienced enough.
Not qualified enough.
Not ready enough.
And when you hear that long enough, you start calling it humility. Patience. Waiting your turn.
But it isn’t humility.
It’s agreement with voices that were never authorized to name you.
This is for the woman who has been told she’s too much for some and not enough for others. The woman who has been overlooked, underestimated, and quietly dismissed.
It is not too late.
Before you were formed, you were known.
Your identity was settled before opinions, rejection, or credentials ever entered the picture.
So, stop letting broken people rename what God already established.
You don’t need permission to become who you were always meant to be.
About J Franco
J Franco, MBA, MCM, is a Christian entrepreneur, speaker, and award-winning marketing strategist, named 2026 American Business Woman by ABWA. As CEO of FIMM Agency, she equips high-level female service providers with content and strategies that convert, while coaching agency owners to build sustainable, faith-aligned businesses. Known for her bold, grounded approach, J blends raw honesty with practical frameworks to help women flourish without losing themselves in the process.
Follow her on Instagram: @thejfranco
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