The Good. The Bad. The Ugly.
If you’re reading this, you’re already in it with me. That’s how this works. If you’ve come close enough to hear, you’re part of this mess, part of this movement. And yes, I may repeat myself — but I’ve learned that’s what it takes. So here it is. The good, the bad, and the ugly of what’s really going on.
The Ugly
The ugly is the looks I get. Not rolled eyes. Not dramatic confrontation. Just months of blank stares. Friends, family — people I love. And sometimes, no questions. That’s how you know. If someone doesn’t ask even one question, it’s lost. So I leave it. I step back. I try to find new words. Another angle. A different story. And eventually, I show them something. Because people often need to see it to believe it. That’s what I’ll do here, too. I’ll show you.
But first, let me tell you where this started.
I spent hundreds of hours inside four years of messages from a high conflict relationship that still brings me pain. It was retraumatizing, reading them, tagging them, pulling them apart. But it was also clarifying. Piece by piece, I started to see patterns no one else had named. That’s where EPI was born.
The Bad
The bad is what it took to build it. I had to live inside language that erased me. I had to research relational dynamics, linguistics, social theory. I had to invent a taxonomy of tone, test it, break it, rebuild it. Yes, I worked with ChatGPT. It let me pull deep research, cross-check patterns, handle computation. But don’t mistake this: AI didn’t invent it. Without me — my instincts, my pain, my obsession with the truth — there was nothing to compute.
And the first time I generated escalation reports across time, I did something terrifying. I overlaid my own relapses on the timeline. And there it was: not just the other person’s behavior, but mine.
The shrinking.
The disappearing.
The places I erased myself.
Seeing that reflected back was brutal. I went through all the stages of grief for who I might have been if I’d had this tool earlier. First, anger. Months of it. Anger at the missed chances, the wasted years, the people who told me I was crazy. Anger at myself for tolerating what I couldn’t name. And then, slowly, something else. Acceptance. Even gratitude. Because I realized: maybe I had to build this the hardest way possible, or else it never would have been born.
But I’m still processing those emotions. Still processing those patterns. Because disrupting a system that has functioned blindly for so long takes time. It takes retraining.
You can’t change what you cannot acknowledge.
And you cannot acknowledge what you cannot see.
Name.
Own.
And then try to change.
That’s just another cycle of knowledge and understanding.
And really — isn’t that what we’re all trying to do?
The Good
Now for the good. The part that keeps me going. Here’s one story.
A couple months ago, one of my partners told a friend about EPI. The friend hated the idea. Too invasive. Too triggering. No way. But weeks later, that same friend sent us screenshots from a domestic violence case. Redacted. No names, no ages, no genders, no races. Just text.
I ran the engine. And what it showed were patterns of over-validation and possible manipulation — the kind that create loyalty binds, where someone feels trapped in defending or protecting the other.
The friend was staggered. Her therapist was impressed. Her attorney took it seriously.
That’s the good. What starts as skepticism often ends with proof.
The Casework
It’s happened again and again. Someone doesn’t get it. Then they ask me to show them. And once they see, they can’t unsee.
High Conflict Relationships
I’ve run EPI on years of my own case. It showed escalation patterns courts had missed. It revealed boundary violations. It showed silence being used as leverage. Judges saw words. EPI saw the relational truth behind them.
Teen Dating
A parent handed me their daughter’s early conversations with a new boyfriend. At first, they seemed harmless. But EPI flagged subtle dismissals, loyalty binds, early escalation cues. The kind of red flags that usually only get noticed once it’s too late.
Therapy Journals
Someone gave me pages of their self-reflection writing. EPI wasn’t there to judge. It just mapped the tone: where they dismissed themselves, where they avoided, where they grew. Their therapist told me it gave the client language they’d never had before.
Business Repair
I ran EPI on account emails from a company trying to save a client relationship. EPI flagged dismissals, passive deflections, the telltale signs of fading trust. Once they saw the pattern, they could start to repair it.
Divorce Proceedings
In another set of messages, EPI mapped tone imbalance between two spouses. Who escalated. Who tried to hold the line. Who avoided accountability. Lawyers said it gave them clarity they’d never been able to argue before.
Uvalde Shooter’s Posts
I analyzed Salvador Ramos’s public social media posts before the Uvalde massacre. The escalation path was visible: grievance → alienation → mobilization. Platforms missed it. Systems missed it. EPI mapped it. That still chills me, because it shows what could have been prevented.
Trump Before January 6th
I ran EPI on Donald Trump’s posts leading up to the Capitol insurrection. The pattern was textbook escalation: blame cycles, grievance loops, us-vs-them framing. Day by day, the escalation intensified. This isn’t partisan. It’s a demonstration of how tone mobilizes people — and how EPI can track it.
Every time, it’s the same: blank stares turn into sharp questions. People glaze over, until I show them. And then they can’t look away.
How I Use It Myself
And here’s the part that’s maybe the most vulnerable: I use EPI on myself. On my own marriage.
The other week, I had a breakthrough about market entry and sent it to Mike in a late-night text. I was in Austin at our bungalow, working all hours alone. He was at the lake — with the kids visiting, my father-in-law next door, his partner away on sabbatical. His plate was full.
My text was big, strategic, urgent. His reply? A playful “wife in a pencil skirt” joke. And there it was: a tone mismatch. A disconnection. It sparked old wounds for both of us. Because when so much of our connection is by text — while we’re apart, carrying different responsibilities — mismatches can feel like rejection.
That’s the truth. And it’s why we have to be careful. Stop. Think. Be present with what’s coming up — for you, and for the other person. Because digital communication moves too fast. We’ve forgotten to pause, to take things in, to ask what’s really around us that might be making us reactive.
EPI helps us name those moments. But the real work? The real work is slowing down enough to see them.
The Fear
And yet, here’s the other ugly part: the fear.
I’m not just afraid of money, or failure. I’m afraid of not being believed. Because how could an addict, a stay-at-home mom, a musician ever believe she could bring a new language to digital systems? Who usually does that? Not people like me.
And if seven years in tech taught me anything, it’s that being underestimated is easy. Having strategy taken seriously is hard, especially when the room doesn’t want to hear new ideas. “Stay in your lane, Jen.” I’ve heard that more times than I can count.
But my best work has always happened outside the lane. In the vacuum. In the quiet. In the places where instinct and conviction meet.
The Bigger Picture
Music taught me resonance.
Abuse taught me trauma and research.
Digital life taught me how disconnection spreads.
Curiosity taught me how to dig until the blind spots reveal themselves.
That’s why EPI exists.
Because here’s the truth:
We cannot change what we cannot acknowledge.
And we cannot acknowledge what we cannot see, name, and understand.
That’s why Tonelogs exist: retrospective clarity.
That’s why repair modules exist: future possibility.
That’s why we’re testing EPI in high conflict relationships, in teen dating, in therapy, in business, in politics, in platforms.
And yes, I know: in the wrong hands, this system could be misused. If it can detect manipulation, it could teach it. That’s heavy. That’s why I brought two mental health professionals on as my first partners. One with ties to academia and research circles. Because our goal isn’t power. It’s connection. Repair. Mental health.
That’s not crazy.
That’s revolutionary.
The Ask
And if you’ve read this far, here’s the truth: you’re already part of this. Which means you’re also my beta team.
I need your help.
Share this post.
Tell someone about it.
Send me screenshots or an email thread you want me to analyze — I’m serious.
And if you have connections or introductions in any of these spaces, please reach out:
Family law attorneys
Therapists
School counselors
Trust & Safety teams at platforms
HR and workplace culture leads
Client retention teams
Insurance and fraud claims investigators
This is how we build it — together, one conversation at a time.
The Ending
So this is the good, the bad, and the ugly. The blank stares, the breakthroughs, the fear, the meta-level dream that sometimes feels like too much to hold.
But if you’re here, you’re in it with me.
Welcome. Sit awhile.
I’ll keep giving everything I can. Because this isn’t just about me.
We all deserve this.
