My artistic-at-everything mom was always amazing with plants. 

They were everywhere in our house growing up. Her and my dad landscaped every nook and cranny of our 2 acre lot. She kept a beautiful garden. Had thriving lilacs that she would cut and put in big vases. I remember having a rummage sale in high school and so many people asking if they could buy plants off of her because she just had such a knack for nurturing them and putting them together in a gorgeous way.

So for so long, I avoided plants. They seemed like something you had to be good at. They were complicated. You had to have a green thumb. And in the beginning, I just never tried because I imagined failure was imminent. 

I stuck to cut flowers from the store. 

And then the first year my soon-to-be husband, Dan, and I lived together, we had a little patio. It was a small, rectangular concrete slab that overlooked a creek. I bought a couple of patio chairs, and decided that I needed some plants. I called for reinforcements.

I had my mom come up and help me pick out planters and an assortment of flowers and greenery to go in them. She gave me tips on how to make a planter look aesthetically pleasing (fill, spill, and thrill is the secret!). She told me how you need to pick plants for the area they’ll be in - whether that’s shade or direct sun. She showed me which dirt she normally bought. How to put the old plastic pots from the greenhouse in the bottom of big containers so you don’t waste extra dirt and they’re not so heavy. 

As anticipated, the planters were beautiful. But then the hard part, how do I keep these things alive? 

I expressed my worry to my mom. How much do I water them? Do I have to buy fertilizer? How do I prune them? How complicated is it to keep these gorgeous new ecosystems we created alive and thriving and not kill them?

And then she told me a secret that probably wasn’t so secret, I just chose to never see it. 

“I kill plants all of the time!”

I’m sorry, what? My mother with two green thumbs KILLS PLANTS ALL OF THE TIME?

She then explained to me that sometimes you make mistakes. You put a sun-loving plant in too much shade. The drainage holes aren’t big enough for an ‘arid soil preferable’ plant. Or you get busy at life and forget to water the lonely bathroom plant. It happens. And you’re not a failure at plants or gardening, it’s just part of the process. 

People who have green thumbs aren’t perfect at keeping things alive, they learn from their mistakes and do things differently next time. And it makes me think that people who say ‘they’re terrible at keeping things alive’ aren’t really, they’ve just stopped trying (which is also ok - you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do!). 

And now as I write this, I have plants in almost every room in the house. I had an abundant garden full of produce I grew from seeds last year (and let me tell you, seed starting was its own lesson in failure). 

I still don’t feel like I can give myself the label of having a green thumb, but I really enjoy the process of nourishing living things. And how they thank me by making my spaces more beautiful and sometimes literally feeding me with their byproducts. But to get here, I had to give up perfectionism - my life-long struggle. 

I had to be ok with killing some plants.

So now, when a plant is looking a little sad, I experiment and play. I try moving them to a different spot in the house. I check to see how the soil is doing (too wet? Too dry?). I trim off any dead parts. And, I give it a pep talk. Call me crazy, but I physically touch and talk to all of my plants. And since I started doing that, I rarely lose any. Coincidence?

The prayer plant that almost died in our bathroom has thrived so much in our living room that I’ve had to split it three times. The teeniest green pepper seedlings I thought would crap out but just kept watering filled my freezer by September. And Dan’s bonsai tree has new growth for the first time in years because I had to move it across the room to make space for holiday decor - a happy accident. 

On the other side, my spearmint plant is stretching so hard we’ll see if it makes it to spring to go back outside. Not all of the seeds I planted last year even sprouted (looking at you, mint!). And I’m pretty sure my thyme plant is close to becoming dried thyme. 

So that thing you’re avoiding doing because you feel like you need to be perfect at it first?

Just give it a shot.

Allow trying it to not mean anything about you or your identity. Play. Experiment. Make mistakes from a perspective that it’s part of the process and not ‘wrong,’ but teaching you how to improve. And see what happens. You might be pleasantly surprised.

What do I mean by that?

When I announced I was shutting down my last business, I got one of two responses:

1. “Wow, congratulations on taking time for yourself/realizing it wasn’t for you anymore/following your gut!”

And…

2. “Really? Are you sure?” Followed by all of the reasons why I ‘should’ keep my business going (have I ever told you how much I hate when people tell me I ‘should’ do anything?).

The latter really felt like a kick in the gut, especially from people who had a front-row seat to my entrepreneurial journey. Did they miss the part where I ran myself into the ground so badly my body rebelled? Where I confided in them I hated my business?

And it wasn’t just people I knew.

I had a final warehouse sale the week before I shut the doors for good. People who attended asked if I was ‘going out of business’. Those words didn’t feel fitting, as they connotated a kind of failure. Like I had run out of money.

“No,” I told them, “I was actually doing really well. I just decided I didn’t want to do it anymore.”

The looks of shock and disbelief on their faces. That was NOT an acceptable answer, and I could see them doing mental gymnastics. Doing well financially and shutting down a business just didn’t fit neatly together for them. I’m sure they walked to the parking lot with their heavily discounted decor shaking their heads at how stupid I was.

And then there were the well-meaning friends and family who wanted to make sure I wasn’t making a rash decision. That I wasn’t reacting reflexively to something and throwing away this big, amazing business I had grown from nothing with my blood, sweat and tears.

What they didn’t see, was that 2 years earlier when I had my meltdown and wanted to burn it all down - THAT would have been a rash decision. Then I was coming from a place of burnout, exhaustion, and fear - and my husband saw that. But when I did finally shut down, I had gone through 2 years of making absolutely sure that it was the right decision. And even then, it wasn’t easy to do. But I knew in my body that it was time.

I was reminded of this over the last couple of weeks. I saw a couple of posts commenting on ’s seemingly abrupt exit from her podcast. How she couldn’t possibly just want to quit, there had to be a more insidious reason. And as if she hadn’t shared enough of her life with the world, she somehow owed us a clear reason.

To that, I say: kindly, f*ck off.

The decisions you make are no one’s business but your own. You don’t have to share anything you don’t want to.

I consider myself an open book because it brings me great joy to tell people about my mistakes so I can save them from making the same ones. My Substack is literally called “I’ll Tell You Everything.” But not everyone feels this way, and no one should feel pressured to. Let me say it again, louder for the people in the back:

You don’t owe anyone anything.

You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.

What you do with your life is up to you.

You have to live with yourself your whole life. When you know in your heart, your gut, that something isn’t working - you can decide to do something else. And I encourage you to.

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One thing I will encourage right now: doing something-anything-will help you feel less helpless and hopeless. Contact your representatives (daily-be annoying about it), donate to causes that make an impact, volunteer, boycott, or protest if that feels safe for you. I love the apps 5 Calls and ResistBot, and have now built my representative calls into my skincare routine every morning when I know it’s going to voicemail.

From January, 2025:

If you’re anything like me, the weight of what’s happening in the world right now feels heavier and scarier than ever. The constant cycle of news, the uncertainty, and the anxiety-it’s enough to make anyone spiral. I’m right there with you, feeling it all and figuring out how to work through it in real time. I mean, two weeks ago I sat down and asked ChatGPT to make an entire list of what I’d need to do to prepare for this new administration. (Yes, really.)

But here’s what I’ve learned: while we can’t control the world, we can find ways to steady ourselves in it.

1. Acknowledge Your Feelings (Without Judgment)

First things first: it’s okay to feel what you feel. Anxiety, anger, sadness, helplessness-these emotions are VALID. The key is not to push them away or judge yourself for having them. Instead, take a moment to name them. This simple act of awareness can start to ease their grip and let you move through them. If we don’t feel them, they fester and repeatedly show up in our bodies in increasingly worse ways. Feel those feelings!

2. Ground Yourself in the Present

When the world feels like it’s spinning out of control, grounding yourself in the present moment can be a lifesaver. Whether it’s taking some deep breaths, walking your dog (Annie always knows when I need this), or simply noticing the sensations in your body-these small moments can help bring you back to center.

3. Avoid Outrage Bait

The hard truth is not every fight on the internet is worth your time or energy. Outrage bait-the headlines, tweets, or posts designed to enrage you-feeds off your attention and drains your emotional reserves. Instead of reacting to every provocation, ask yourself, “Does engaging in this help me move closer to the world I want to live in?” Save your energy for the battles that matter and for the causes you’re passionate about (not arguing with bots in the comments section).

4. Make Space for Creativity

Something I learned through all the art history classes I took in college was that some of our planet’s most incredible works were created when the world was in chaos. Whether it’s painting, writing, dancing, or even gardening, creating something with your hands or heart is a powerful way to process emotions and reconnect with yourself and the world. And a reminder that it doesn’t have to be perfect-just play.

5. Limit Your Media Consumption

It’s tempting to stay glued to the news and social feeds, but the 24/7 cycle can be emotionally draining. Set boundaries for yourself: maybe it’s checking the news and socials only once a day or turning off notifications. Personally, I deleted all of the apps from my phone so I’m not reflexively checking. There’s a difference between staying informed and plying yourself with the same traumatic content repeatedly-get what you need and get off the internet.

6. Focus on What You Can Control

One of the most powerful ways to combat helplessness is to take action, no matter how small. Whether it’s volunteering, calling your representatives, protesting, donating, or simply being kind to the people around you, these actions remind us that we do have the power to create positive change, even in difficult times. For me, it was following the above mentioned prep list which included a lot of things I should have done anyway like emergency preparedness and online security.

7. Build in Moments of Joy

In tough times, joy can feel frivolous, but it’s anything but. Joy is resistance. It’s a way to recharge and keep going, a reminder that life is still worth savoring, even in the hardest moments. Maybe that looks like dancing to a playlist that pumps you up, watching a tv show or movie that makes you laugh, or planning a fun outing to look forward to. Joy doesn’t have to be grand to matter. It’s the small, intentional moments that can carry us through. When we prioritize joy, we’re not ignoring the hard stuff; we’re building up the energy to face it.

8. Create Real-Life Moments

In a world that constantly pulls us online, sometimes the best way to ground yourself is to unplug and reconnect with the physical world. Spend time outside-whether it’s standing barefoot in the grass, sitting by a lake, or simply taking a walk around your neighborhood. Or plan an ‘Analog Afternoon’ where you read a physical book and put on a record and let yourself actually listen to an album from start to finish. These little, intentional moments in real life can help you feel more present and remind you there’s a whole world out there to connect with.

9. Find Your Support System

You don’t have to (and shouldn’t) do this alone. Whether it’s leaning on friends, joining a community, or working with a mental health professional, having people to connect with who understand what you’re going through can make all the difference. Struggling to find your people? Here’s some ideas!

10. Give Yourself Permission to Rest

Finally, remember: rest isn’t a luxury; it’s a necessity. In a world that constantly demands more, choosing to rest is an act of courage. In fact, Tricia Hersey wrote a whole book about it that I highly recommend, called “Rest is Resistance: A Manifesto.” After you’ve done your action, take the nap, turn off the phone, and let yourself be.

Let’s face it, we’re going to feel overwhelmed by what’s happening in the world today. But it’s also possible to find peace and purpose amidst it all. Start small. Be gentle with yourself. Carve out time for joy and creativity, protect your energy, and channel it into fighting for what you believe in. Even in the hardest times, there’s always a way forward.

“How did you know it was time to shut your business down?”

In that moment, I wished I had a short, tidy answer.
That I just knew.
That everything fell into place.

But the truth is much different. The end of The Simple Home came slowly, and then all at once.

The long beginning of the end

All the way back in 2017 - year five of the business - I was already thinking about selling.

I was learning how I’d need to structure the company. How much more revenue I’d need. What proprietary things would make it attractive to buyers.

In 2018, we had a huge growth year. We doubled revenue.
In 2019, we did it again and hit seven figures.

It was a whole new ballgame.

But I also knew that to get what I wanted from a sale, I’d need to double again - to over $2M - and dramatically increase profit.

Then 2020 happened.

By some streak of luck, we at least upheld our 2019 numbers. And that year, I hired an exit planner and got serious about selling.

Two things were happening at the same time:

1. I knew I needed to put everything into getting the business ready to sell, because…

2. I could see the horizon of burnout approaching fast.

I told myself I just needed one last big push.
Get it sold.
Finally breathe.

And then I lost it

Spring of 2021, on the first night of our first vacation since Covid, I melted down in front of my husband over tacos.

I mean lost it.

The weight of trying to hit massive revenue goals, increase profitability, keep everything organized, support a whole-ass team, keep current clients happy and bring in new ones, pull myself out of the business while empowering others, implement systems and processes - all while everyone was hanging on by their fingernails was just all too much.

I wanted so badly to get this business - the one I’d poured blood, sweat, and tears into for nearly a decade - to a place where I could sell it for retirement money.

But the gap between where I was and where I needed to be felt like an ocean, and I had absolutely nothing left to bridge it.

I was spent. Empty. Hollow.

I’ll forever be grateful for my rockstar of a husband (who I was terrified to disappoint) for looking at the broken lady in front of him and simply saying:

“Whatever you need to do, I’ll support you.”

For someone who never wants to let anyone down, that was everything.

The pivot I didn’t want, but needed

I went back to both of my coaches and told them the truth: I needed to exit. Now.

No more building or scaling. I needed the eject button.

One of my coaches, Paul, asked if maybe I could pull back and make the business manageable without me - just let it run.

I scoffed. Absolutely not. I needed out as soon as possible.

But - unfortunately in the moment and fortunately in the long run - I couldn’t exit quickly. So I had to take his advice.

Because of the exit planning work, I knew exactly which clients were profitable. And that’s when I discovered something uncomfortable:

Our biggest, most labor-heavy client brought in a lot of revenue…and almost no profit.

So I made the hard decision to let them go. And then I cut all custom work and leaned hard into standard, cut-and-dry orders.

And suddenly, everything started falling into place.

The work got easier.
We needed fewer people.
Profit jumped.
The team was dialed in, and they barely needed me.

The remainder of 2021 was rebuilding.
2022 was honestly amazing.
In 2023, I continued to let things run and with my new-found free time started coaching on the side.

I thought maybe I could do both.

The hollow feeling returns

But something felt off.

The world had changed post-Covid. Instead of feeling like we were making people’s jobs easier, it felt like we were helping companies squeeze more out of already overworked employees.

From a sourcing perspective, we weren’t finding beautiful, exciting pieces anymore - we were just scrambling to find anything that would arrive in time.

The hollow feeling was back.

During a practice coaching session, I told a colleague I wanted to talk through how to keep both businesses going.

She asked one simple question:

“Why do you want to continue your decor business?”

And before I could stop myself, I said:

“Because I don’t want to let anyone down.”

You know that moment where the words come out and you’re like - wait, those were in there??

She nodded and asked gently, “Is that a reason to keep a business?”

Ugh, no. Of course not.

And yet, there it was. The thing driving so much of my life.

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When the universe gets louder

Then the signs started stacking.

A new lease I was negotiating kept getting stalled. First the landlord gave me an incomplete lease, then my lawyer went on maternity leave, then disagreements on terms.

At some point, I stopped and asked myself:

Do I really want to do this? Is it time to stop?

I decided to let one more thing be the decider (because this girl always needs a sign-ier sign). I reached out to a major client and asked what their next two months looked like.

In my head, I thought if they’re busy, I’ll stick it out. But if they’re slow, I’ll shut it down.

Turns out, their pipeline was paltry. I had my answer.

Our lease was up in two months, which lined up to be a perfect exit point. I told my team immediately. Then I got ready to off board clients and sell inventory and equipment.

As I was planning what to tell my clients, I realized I wanted to give these people who had supported me for so long a soft place to land. On a whim, I reached out to a vendor friend I’d once asked about buying the business years earlier.

We arranged a client hand off with commission.

And two months later, I taped up the last box.
Shut the garage door one last time.
Handed in the keys.
And drove away with my front seat full of my office plants.

I felt like a movie character heading into her new life.

Because I was.

I was leaving behind a business I’d built over eleven years - a quarter of my life.
And it was time.

If You’re Wondering Whether It’s Time to Go

I’ve been asked this question many times since - usually by entrepreneurs who are tired, unfulfilled, and quietly hating the businesses they once loved.

I can never give them a neat answer. What I tell them is this:

Make sure you’re ready.

Not “I’m exhausted and I need relief” ready. But I’ve squeezed everything I could ever want out of this ready.

The kind of ready where you know - truly know - that there’s nothing you could change, tweak, delegate, or redesign that would make you want to stay.

Because exiting from burnout alone can feel abrupt. Reactive. And it can leave you wondering later if you walked away too soon.

I know this because if I had exited in 2021, it wouldn’t have felt aligned. It would have been hasty. Desperate. Driven by fear and depletion.

And I think I would have regretted it.

The other thing I always say is this:

Try to make your decision from intuition, not fear.

Fear lives in the brain: it’s loud, urgent, and dramatic.
Intuition is quieter. It doesn’t rush you. It doesn’t beg.

If you feel panicked, pressured, or like you need to escape, that’s fear talking.

If you feel calm clarity - even mixed with grief - that’s your gut.

They feel very different when you learn to listen.

Leaving when you’re ready doesn’t erase the love you once had for your business. In fact, it can be a way of honoring it.

I didn’t burn The Simple Home to the ground.
I gave it a final run that felt respectful.
I gave it a new life.
I let the story close cleanly, and with a finality that felt good.

And for me, that made all the difference.

Do as I say, not as I do, right?

But, I did find some good stuff (mostly) off of the socials this year. And inspired by my dear friend and marketing guru, Amanda Stein, here are my most favorite things of 2025!

Reads:

Weyward by Emilia Hart

You know I love me a witchy read. This novel follows three women across three centuries: a healer facing the 17th-century witch trials, a teenager uncovering family secrets during WWII, and a modern-day woman escaping an abusive relationship. Their stories intertwine to show how the patriarchy has always been a drag, but also how resilience, self-trust, and a deep connection to nature can carry us through. It will also leave you wanting a pet crow, just saying.

Mind Magic: The Neuroscience of Manifestation and How It Changes Everything by James R. Doty MD

I love when woo meets practical! I have been fascinated by manifestation since The Secret came out (20 years ago? eesh). Doty takes the concept of manifestation beyond vision boards and wishful thinking, and grounds it in neuroscience and compassion practices. Currently reading this a second time thanks to my friend, Amy, gifting me a physical copy.

Be Ready When Luck Happens: A Memoir by Ina Garten

I somehow missed the memo on Ina Garten for my entire adult life, but made her my whole personality this summer. Her memoir is a story of bold pivots, and how she built her brand by trusting her intuition. A must-read for anyone wanting the permission to do things their own way - with heart, ease, and zero apologies.

Grimoire Girl by Hilarie Burton Morgan

Where are my One Tree Hill and White Collar fans? This is a fun, easy read by actress Hilarie Burton that feels like you’re listening to her read her journal aloud. Part memoir, part magical practices, all amazing.

Follows:

@theshabbycreekcottage (Instagram)

Gina Luker is a real-life witch living in the south trying to keep life magical while also hexing the patriarchy. I adore her combination of whimsy and realness; she has the kind of ‘hope core’ account I love to follow. She also wrote this awesome post for your reading pleasure.

@jayrenshaw (Instagram)

If you’re in the mood for some completely goofy workplace comedy, check out actor Jay Renshaw’s account. He plays ‘Chit,’ a lovable, ridiculous character in an Office-style setup. Let’s just say “Do it, lady!” has officially entered our daily vocabulary.

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Listens:

A Bit of Optimism with Simon Sinek

I have loved Simon Sinek since reading “Start with Why”, and was so excited when I learned he started a podcast. He interviews everyone from entrepreneurs to comedians to actors, and asks the BEST questions. And as the title suggests, no gloom and doom on this podcast!

Curious Life of a Childfree Woman

This one is solidly in my queue rotation - from a lovely woman I met this year, Emily Paulsen. Her podcast is not just for childfree women, but a space (for anyone) where parenthood isn’t part of the conversation. Because I know my friends with kiddos need some space for themselves, too!

Good Hang with Amy Poehler

The new podcast from one of my favorite humans who apparently is friends with (and interviews) a bunch more of my favorite humans (see above: Ina Garten). Of course she’s hilarious, but also asks some off-the-wall and surprisingly deep questions that take the conversations in all the best directions.

The Telepathy Tapes

In 6th grade, our teacher had us partner up and practice telepathy with decks of cards - in my CATHOLIC grade school. She was a rebel, and I loved her. So of course I was fascinated by this podcast that focuses on a group of non-verbal, autistic individuals who seemingly read the minds of those around them AND communicate with other people like them - in their minds. It’s fascinating, inspiring, and heartbreaking all at the same time.

Watches:

We Were Liars (Prime)

I devoured this in a 36 hours. I love a good limited series based on a book, especially when they have a twist ending I did not see coming. If you like dark summer secrets and emotional depth, add this to your watch list.

Lilith Fair: Building a Mystery-the Untold Story (Hulu)

I wanted to go to Lilith Fair SO badly in high school, but the timing never worked out. If it ever makes a comeback, I’ll be first in line with my credit card. This documentary brings all the feels: the warm fuzzies of insanely talented women sharing a stage, the rage at how 90s media mocked and minimized them, and the chills of watching them build a safe, inclusive space filled with unbelievable artistry. It’s beautiful, inspiring, and maddening all at once. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll get goosebumps…and maybe even want to punch a wall.

Queer Eye-Season 9 (Netflix)

This show makes me feel good about the world. They select the kindest people to feature - many of whom don’t realize how incredible they are - and help them see their own beauty, inside and out. Although I miss Bobby Berk, the newest interior designer addition, Jeremiah Brent, is the sweetest. AND he cries in every episode…honestly, same.

Matlock (CBS)

I know hearing the name ‘Matlock’ screams eating dinner at 4PM. But this newest version with Kathy Bates as lawyer Madelyn ‘Maddie’ Matlock is so smart, funny, and has the most beautiful jewel-toned set design. A new twist on an old classic.

Downloads:

BePresent App

This year, I quit using my business Instagram. But I was still scrolling my personal account way too much. This app interrupts me every five minutes, and that little pause is usually enough to make me lose interest and stop the scroll. My overall screen time is down by 75%, and honestly I don’t feel like I’m missing anything. It costs $59.99/year, but in my opinion worth every penny!

Ecosia Search Engine

I am guilty of using AI to help make my life easier. However, I am so tired of platforms forcing it on us - especially with the environmental implications. Sorry Google, I don’t want you building data centers so you can make suggestions I didn’t ask for. Enter Ecosia. They have an ethical AI you can choose to turn on, and all of their profits funnel back into planting trees and climate action.

Five Calls & Resist Bot

A friend of mine said when your democracy is at stake you’ll do things you thought you weren’t brave enough to do. For me, that was calling my representatives. I was afraid to sound dumb and to stumble over my words. But Five Calls basically spoon-feeds you what to do - who your reps are, what the issues are, and scripts to read. And if that isn’t easy enough for you, sign up for Resist Bot. Answer a few questions and it will text you petitions that people have written and with a few clicks it signs the petitions and sends to your reps automatically.

Listen, I am not a tech person. I don’t know any more than the average human about how computers or the internet actually work.

So how did I solve most of our tech issues?

Here’s the shocking secret…
I Googled it.

That’s it! No classes, no hidden talent. I just got curious, dug around, and figured it out.

But then the business grew. Fast. Suddenly I had a team of eight and I was not only “IT Support” but also HR, design manager, client care, operations…basically 10+ roles squeezed into one very tired person. And it became obvious that this wasn’t sustainable.

So I stopped and got honest with myself and with my team.

Here’s what I learned and what changed everything:

1. I told them the truth: I wasn’t smarter, they could do what I was doing.
I could have let them believe I had some magical gift for solving every problem. But that helps no one. I wanted them to know the real skill was curiosity, not genius.

2. I realized I was unintentionally hobbling their growth.
Every time I gave them the answer, I robbed them of the learning. When you troubleshoot something yourself, you understand the why, not just the “fix.”
Like when our internet first went down, our provider walked me through a list of steps. The next time it happened, I tried those steps myself and solved it. That’s how knowledge builds.

3. I empowered them to try before asking for help.
My go-to first question became: “Did you Google it?”
Not in a snarky way, just to remind them that they were fully capable of finding answers too. And when they did find the solution, it built confidence and ownership.
To be clear, if someone genuinely couldn’t find the answer, I always wanted them to ask for help. But the trying first mattered.

4. I documented what lived in my head.
I created a little “facilities” binder with every common issue:

• Internet down? Here’s the checklist.

• Water not working? Here’s the landlord’s number.

• UPS missed a pickup? Here’s who to call.

  Any time something new came up, it went in the binder. Suddenly, the information wasn’t trapped in my brain.

5. I helped them understand the impact of interruptions.
Every tiny question pulled me out of deep work, and research shows it can take up to 25 minutes to get your focus back. That adds up.
And I framed it in a way that mattered to them:
If I’m stuck troubleshooting day-to-day issues, I’m not working on the things that benefit the: better systems, better opportunities, better compensation.

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Once we implemented all of this, everything shifted.
I was interrupted way less.
The team was more confident and more capable.
The business ran more smoothly because everyone understood how to solve problems, not just hand them off.

I finally felt like the leader I wanted to be, instead of the bottleneck I accidentally became.

We talk so much about being “busy” and not enough about building systems that make us less essential. Letting your team think for themselves is the first step in having more freedom.

Where could you hand back a little power and watch what happens?

But then, I look at the cost (OMG some of these prices make my eyes water). Or see the effort it takes to get to the retreat location hours away from even a regional airport. Or worry that it may come at a busy time in my business where being gone for several days will feel more stressful than anything.

And I know that I need a break. Some time to work on myself and my business. But sometimes traditional retreats just feel so big, so heavy.

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A retreat is less about where you go, and more about how you show up.

We’ve been conditioned to treat rest like a reward—something we have to earn after we’ve done enough.

But rest isn’t indulgent, it’s maintenance.

And the beauty of a retreat is that it doesn’t have to happen somewhere else.

It doesn’t have to be expensive. It doesn’t have to be days long.
You can create it right where you are, and with whatever time you have!

How to create your own retreat day

Your retreat doesn’t need to be elaborate. Mine often starts with a quiet morning: phone off, tea in hand, maybe a Spotify Lo-Fi playlist playing in the background.

Then I move through a few of my favorite things: journaling, stretching, pulling a few tarot cards, and doing something creative or nourishing.

The magic isn’t in the activities themselves—it’s in the intention.
You’re choosing to step away from the noise and tune back into yourself.

Here’s a simple way to start:

1. Set the intention – What do you want to feel by the end of the day? Calm? Clarity? Lightness? Choose one word to guide you.

2. Create the space – Clear your environment. Light a candle. Make your space feel sacred, even if it’s just your living room.

3. Choose your rhythm – Mix stillness and movement. Reflection and play. Think: meditation, journaling, a walk outside, a nourishing meal, and something that brings joy.

You don’t have to plan every detail, but you do have to decide that you’re worth the pause.

For paid subscribers 💛

I’ve created a full kit to help you plan your own retreat day — complete with journal prompts, setup ideas, playlists, and my go-to structure for creating a truly restorative experience.

It’s called Your DIY Retreat Day, and you can download it below.

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And immediately, this story came rushing back.

When I started my business, I was a people-pleaser, deeply concerned about not coming off as “too assertive,” “too direct,” or the dreaded word women get labeled with when we hold a boundary: a bitch.

I wanted to be liked.
I wanted to be fair.
I wanted everyone to feel comfortable.

…even when I wasn’t comfortable.

And then had to fire my warehouse manager and needed a replacement ASAP, so I hired one through a temp agency.

He said all the right things in the interview.
His resume looked solid.
He spoke confidently.

But during his first week, the cracks started showing.
He was scattered.
He talked a big game but couldn’t deliver.
And instead of learning the actual job - managing the flow of product in and out of our warehouse - he kept throwing random “problems” at me that weren’t his responsibility.

Then Friday afternoon rolled around, and he asked to sit down because he had some ideas on how to help the back end of the business run better.

Sure. Why not?

He walked into my office holding what I can only describe as the worst clip-art cut-and-paste packet I’ve ever seen. It looked like something a middle schooler would make for a group project they didn’t care about.

He launched into a bizarre monologue about adult learning (???), systems I didn’t need, and concepts that had nothing to do with the actual role. If you’ve ever seen the movie “Stepbrothers”, I felt like I was sitting through the Prestige Worldwide presentation. It was a mess.

And then, the kicker:

To implement these “ideas,” he would need to be paid more. I told him I was at my budget for this role because there is a premium you pay through a temp agency.

But don’t worry, he had a solution! I could pay him the extra he was asking for through an LLC he had on the side.

I want you to imagine the look on my face.

My blood was boiling.
The audacity was almost impressive.

In that moment, something broke in me. And I was changed forever.

Old me would have tried to hide my irritation.
Tried to find the “nice” way out.
Tried to make sure he didn’t think I was mean or difficult or ungrateful.

I was done. I stopped him mid-sentence and said:

“This has nothing to do with the role I hired you for, and I don’t think you’re grasping what that role actually requires. This is going to work out, so I’m going to end your contract today. ”

He looked shocked.
He backtracked.
He stumbled over his words.

But I had already stood up, shook his hand, and said:

“Thank you for your help this week. I’ll pay you through the end of the day, and you’re free to go now. I wish you the best.”

And that was it.

I still have the printout of his “presentation.” I keep it in a file, and pull it out anytime I want to remember the moment I stopped worrying about being nice. And anytime I feel imposter syndrome creeping in because dear God if someone could feel confident handing me that stack of papers and asking for more money? I can do ANYTHING!

That moment was one of the first times I realized:

• I don’t have to cushion everything with softness.

• I don’t owe anyone palatable packaging for my boundaries.

• Directness doesn’t make me rude.

• Protecting my business doesn’t make me a bitch.

• And listening to my intuition is worth more than avoiding discomfort.

That moment changed me.

And honestly? I’ve trusted my voice a lot more ever since.

Have you ever had a moment where you stopped prioritizing being liked and chose what was right for you instead?

Fourteen years ago, Dan and I got married in Charleston, SC.

We planned the whole thing long-distance, with a laughable budget and the help of our literal angel of a caterer.

Before we left for the wedding, we made a pact:
If we ended the day married and had fun, we’d call it a success.

That was it.
That was the whole plan.

Turns out, that mindset saved us.

Because that week, everything went wrong:

• The woman who booked our rehearsal brunch quit and took our deposit info with her - leaving us without a reservation days before the wedding.

• Our rental house lockbox code didn’t work, and the owner was MIA (this was pre-Airbnb days).

• On wedding day, the upstairs plumbing overloaded, leaking sewage water into the first floor. Dan and half the wedding party ended up showering at my in-laws’ rental house.

• And once the sun went down during dinner, the temperature dropped 20 degrees and everyone was freezing.

  

But each time, we came back to our only goals:
Get married.
Have fun.

We didn’t wallow (much). We didn’t spiral. We just adjusted.
And because we did, things somehow turned out even better:

• The marketing person at the restaurant group honored our deposit and got us into a brand-new spot: with free beignets.

• My bridesmaids negotiated a beachfront house that would normally cost double what we paid.

• The plumbing got fixed and the house cleaned (and PSA ladies: don’t flush your feminine products, ever).

• That freezing veranda dinner turned into the best dance party of our lives (did having an open bar help? Yes, yes it did.)

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We could have spent the whole weekend focused on what went wrong.
Instead, we focused on what mattered.

And that’s the lesson I keep coming back to - whether it’s business, marriage, or life in general.

When you decide what success looks like ahead of time, you give yourself room for things to work out even better than you planned.

So here’s to 14 years of perspective, laughter, and my favorite human. Proof that when you focus on what counts, the rest usually finds its way. 💕

In case you haven’t seen this masterpiece, here’s a quick rundown:

Sue Ellen (Christina Applegate) is ready for a summer of freedom while her mom vacations in Australia. Instead, she’s shocked to learn her mom hired a babysitter to keep tabs on her and her four siblings. The babysitter is strict, cranky, and…within 24 hours…dead. With the babysitter goes the envelope of money their mom left behind for the whole summer’s expenses.

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Rather than confess and risk cutting her summer short, Sue Ellen decides to get a job. Because that’s the normal thing to do…

Her first stop is Clown Dog, a depressing fast-food joint run by a hollow-souled manager whose only advice is to “put on a happy face.” She lasts one day. But that terrible experience propels her to look for something better: a receptionist position at General Apparel West (GAW). Armed with a resume straight out of a resume book, padded with ‘fabulous fashion stuff,’ and typed on her typewriter (this scene made me feel ancient), she stops in to drop it off.

By sheer luck, an executive named Rose reads her resume and immediately hires her as her executive assistant. No one asks for ID. No one fact-checks her resume. They just pay her a $34k/year salary ($81k in today’s dollars). Ah, the 90’s.

Sue Ellen has no idea what she’s doing. She barely knows computers. She doesn’t know how to use a fax machine. But somehow, she figures it all out without anyone learning her secret. And when the company teeters on financial collapse, she pulls together a fashion show - run entirely by her siblings and friends - that wows clients and saves the day.

Absurd? Absolutely. But beneath the shoulder pads and sitcom logic, there are surprisingly timeless business lessons:

1. Don’t get overwhelmed, just do one thing at a time.
When asked to tackle the intimidating QED report, Sue Ellen delegates it to her coworker Carolyn and repeats Rose’s advice: “Don’t get overwhelmed. Just do one thing at a time.” It’s project management wisdom that still holds true.

2. Delegation is survival.
Sue Ellen couldn’t handle everything alone, so she leaned on her quirky coworkers and gave them ownership. Leaders don’t do it all, they make sure it all gets done.

3. “I’m right on top of that, Rose!”
Rose tells Sue Ellen that when she’s on speaker phone, no matter what she asks Sue Ellen to do, her answer must always be ‘I’m right on top of that, Rose!” Sometimes you have to project calm while you scramble behind the scenes. Confidence and composure buy you time to figure things out.

4. Pressure breeds creativity.
Out of food in the house? A fashion show looming? Siblings spending all the petty cash on a new home entertainment system? Instead of collapsing, Sue Ellen got scrappy. Deadlines and constraints can be painful, but they also spark our most innovative ideas.

5. The worst jobs clarify what you don’t want.
Clown Dog was awful, but it pushed her to reach higher. Sometimes the bad fit is exactly the clarity you need to figure out what’s next.

Yes, it’s a ridiculous teen comedy. But most entrepreneurs I know have had their own “I’m 17 and helping run a giant company” moment - sitting in a role they weren’t “qualified” for, figuring it out step by step, with a mix of confidence, delegation, and sheer scrappiness.

And maybe that’s the real lesson: you don’t have to know it all. You just have to start, trust yourself to learn, and surround yourself with people who can help.

So tell me: what’s the most unexpected movie that taught you something about business?

We were busier than ever.

I was exhausted, resentful, and quietly panicking that I still was barely keeping my head above water.

I kept thinking: If I could just get one quiet day to focus, where no one could bother me, I could catch up.

But that day never came.

I was working in the office Monday through Friday, 8 a.m. to 5:30 p.m.

Then I’d go home, open my laptop again, and work late into the night.

Weekends weren’t rest, I couldn’t even take a nap without feeling guilty. They were my “catch-up” days and I’d work at least another 8 hours each day.

I told myself I was just being productive, but really, I was hiding. Because the only time I could think straight was when no one needed me.

When the burnout thermometer exploded on that vacation—where I didn’t even want to walk back into the building—I knew I couldn’t keep living like this.

I didn’t want to burn everything down. But I needed a way to keep my head above water long enough to take some deep breaths.

So I tried something radical:
A four-day workweek.

The Decision That Felt Impossible

Honestly, I can’t remember where the idea first came from.
I think I’d seen one of our vendors being closed on Fridays and finally reached out to ask our rep how it was going.

She said, “It’s fine. People don’t do much on Fridays anyway.”
That was enough to make me think this could be a thing.

So we tested it, for the summer.
Four 10-hour days instead of five 8-hour ones.
Fridays off for everyone, including clients.

I was terrified.
What if we didn’t get enough done?
What if clients were angry?
What if it all fell apart?

But I also knew: if nothing changed, I would fall apart.

What Actually Happened

It worked.
In fact, it worked better than I could’ve hoped!

• We got more done. People became sharper, more focused, less distracted.

• PTO requests plummeted because everyone handled appointments and errands on Fridays.

• Morale soared. People came in on Monday actually refreshed.

• Our clients adjusted, and asked all the questions they needed on Thursdays. And they definitely weren’t mad!

• And I, finally, had space to think again.

That extra day didn’t just change our schedule. It changed the entire energy of the building.

And for me, I could actually start to use my weekends as weekends.

The frantic energy that had ruled my life for years started to (slowly) fade.

And the business didn’t fall apart, it ran even better!

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The Lesson I Keep Coming Back To

If you’re reading this thinking, I could never take a day off, I get it.
It felt impossible for me too.

But maybe it starts smaller.
A half-day Friday.
One afternoon a week without meetings.
A single day each month to step away and reset.

Give yourself the chance to see what happens when you stop squeezing more in—and start creating more space to rest, breathe, think.

Because sometimes less time leads to better results.
And a calmer, more creative version of you.

If you’ve ever tried a shorter workweek—or you’re curious about it—tell me below.

I’d love to hear what surprised you most, or what’s holding you back.

-Amanda

Sure, when we’re kids people ask, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” — but that’s not the same thing. That question is about a role, a title, a job.

The real question — What do you want? — rarely gets asked.

We graduate high school, maybe go to college, and at the baby age of eighteen we’re told to decide what we want to do for the rest of our lives. And that’s…it. We’re supposed to pick something, do it for forty years, and then retire.

There’s never a checkpoint where someone pauses and asks,

“Are you sure this is still what you want?”

We just keep going.

The moment I realized I didn’t know

When I hit my breaking point — that lovely meltdown I’ve talked about before — my coach looked at me and asked,

“So…what do you want?”

And I remember feeling this anger bubble up in my chest, this discomfort. I didn’t know. I just knew it wasn’t this.

It was so easy to say what I didn’t want, because I was living it every day. But figuring out what I did want? That took time. And space. And a lot of uncomfortable truth-telling.

I had to start unraveling everything I’d been taught to want — the achievements, the milestones, the shiny versions of success that look great on paper but feel empty in real life.

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The “Shark Tank” dream that wasn’t mine

For years, I thought I wanted the classic entrepreneurial arc:
build the business → grow it big → sell it → lay on a beach in perpetuity with bubbly in hand.

That was the dream we’re all sold, right?
But when I finally stopped to examine it, I realized…I wouldn’t actually be happy sitting on a beach doing nothing forever.

What I was chasing wasn’t the beach, or the money, or the big business.
It was freedom.

Freedom from pressure, from “shoulds,” from things hanging over my head.
Freedom to wake up and do whatever I wanted and not answer to anyone — to have space, peace, and choice.

Once I saw that, everything changed.

Why this question matters

If we don’t know what we want, we’ll never get it.

My husband and I typically forgo Christmas gifts and go on a trip instead in 4th quarter. However, in 2020 we were not able to travel, so we decided to do something we hadn’t done in ages — Christmas lists. It was fun to dig around local businesses’ websites and add things to my list that I wanted. And the wonderful part was that I got the most amazing collection of gifts that year (and bonus points for his addition of the sparking wine advent calendar). No smelly candles relegated to the back of the closet, just things I loved — because I thought about, and asked for, what I wanted.

That’s why this question — What do you really want? — matters so much.
It’s not an easy answer, and it will probably evolve as you do.
But asking it is how you start to build a life that actually fits.

So if you’re sitting in that in-between space — where you can name what you don’t want, but you’re still figuring out what’s next — you’re not alone.

It takes time to peel back all the noise and expectations and get honest about what you actually want.

But that question will change everything if you let it.

Over the next few weeks here, I’ll be writing more about this — how to get quiet enough to hear yourself, how to tell the difference between fear and intuition, and what to do when what you want doesn’t make sense to anyone else.

And if you want to start exploring now, I made a free workbook to help you dig in:

Download the Workbook

Thanks for being here,

Amanda

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How Did I Get Here?

I never set out to be an entrepreneur. In fact, growing up in a restaurant family, I wanted to avoid it by getting a “good” corporate job with full benefits and weekends off. That worked…until it didn’t.

I found myself dreaming of freedom and flexibility, so I took the part of my job I loved and turned it into a business. From the back bedroom of our little house, I grew it into a million-dollar decor company with a team and industry-leading clients. On the outside, it looked like success. Inside, I was exhausted and so freaking miserable.

After a breakdown on vacation (yep, that was fun), I got honest with myself. With the help of my coach and my entrepreneur husband, I figured out what I actually wanted, what I valued, and what success really meant to me. I simplified, set boundaries, and let go of what wasn’t working. And suddenly everything got easier and took so much less effort.

Eventually, I realized the business itself wasn’t bringing me joy anymore, so I made the decision to exit. I took a much-needed break, and then launched my current coaching practice where I help women on the burnout spectrum.

None of this has been easy, and I’ve made so many mistakes.

That’s why I’m starting this Substack. I want to share everything I’ve learned-the good, the bad, and the ugly. Because maybe I can help make the entrepreneurial journey easier for even one person.

Honesty and Vulnerability, But Make It Cozy

Think of this space as a comfy corner where we put on our stretchy pants, eat Cheetos straight out of the bag, and talk about life, entrepreneurship, and all the messy in-between. It’s honest, a little funny, sometimes woo-woo, and always rooted in creating lives and businesses that feel more aligned, joyful, and fulfilling.

Most of all: this is a place where you don’t have to feel alone.

What You Can Expect

Here’s what I’m planning (for now - because life evolves, and so will this space):

• Free subscribers will get weekly posts: stories, lessons, tools, and honest reflections.

• Paid subscribers will get:

  • Access to monthly office hours

  • A guided meditation or ritual practice each month

  • Occasional fun freebies (journals, trackers, templates, or whatever I dream up)

  • Access to subscriber-only posts where I’ll share deeper insights and behind-the-scenes lessons.

I’ll post here once a week - enough to stay connected without overwhelming either of us!

And finally…

I want this to be fun. I want it to feel like you’re sitting across from me with a chai latte (or wine, depending on the day) while I tell you what really happened behind the scenes. No gatekeeping. No “highlight reel” (barf). Just the real stuff.

So, welcome! I’m so glad you’re here.