I’m going for the stronger stuff today—you know, a little bit of Bizzy cold brew on the rocks. Honestly, I thought my momentum would continue on into writing this next part. Unfortunately, I believe that no amount of caffeinated goodness, along with a loosely structured outline, is going to help me out of feeling stuck in the middle of this story.

Documenting the beginning details came with more ease, but with how the story progressed and ended in its season of time involves more details and it's bittersweet to recount. And now, in the aftermath of it all and in the midst of yet another changing season, well—encompassing all of it into this blog post and the next one is hard. I feel stuck and all over the place at the same time.

I had officially opened my salon suite in the spring of 2018. Working in a new space had been just what I’d needed. Despite some surrounding circumstances that had altered a bit of my excitement, I was extremely thankful for and making the very best of this new environment. I could tell my clients were enjoying the space as well and that made my heart happy!

My suite was fully decorated at the time, but I think I must have been looking for possible art pieces for one of the walls when I randomly stumbled across a watercolor artist on Instagram. I was immediately mesmerized by her artistic style with so much use of color! Her dry personality just added to the multiple pieces she would create and I loved watching her work and listening to her say, "Oops. Oh well."—which she may have said a bit more colorfully than I'm describing. Amazed at how quickly she worked, Kyra haphazardly sketched celebrity faces and painted them. She would drop ink onto the water misted paper and my meticulous nature watched in horror and in awe as the ink caught the water and expanded everywhere. Her style is so wonderfully messy, I thought! There was a disconnection and a freedom to it. It wasn't perfect yet the finished results always looked amazing! That she actually practiced and curated her style in that way was so intriguing to me that I bought some of the supplies she had mentioned using. I had never played much with watercolor, but I was happy to dabble in something new, colorful, and so fluid!

Have you ever seen the movie The Greatest Showman? If I were you, I'd stop reading this post and sit yourself down to start watching it right now! It is seriously that good. A musical, it made its debut in December of 2017. Everyone was raving about it and making return trips to the theaters to watch it on the big screen. While I enjoy musicals, I knew I had to be in the mood to start watching a movie like that. It took Craig and I until the summer of 2018 before we finally rented it! Even as we popped it into the DVD player, I was not excited to watch it. It turns out that Hugh Jackman and his little circus friends had plans to change my mood. As the opening credits rolled, the very first song, "The Greatest Show", started playing. From its very first beats, I was HOOKED. The soundtrack (as well as the storyline) is amazing!

As I continued to be mesmerized by the colors, the costumes, and the gigantic dreams and courage of P.T. Barnum, I believe it was at that point that I randomly wondered what it would be like to quit my career—and for no other reason but to say "no more". I remember feeling a little guilty for thinking such a thing, but this "Other Side" they sang of seemed new, freeing, foreign, and out of reach. I shut it down as a fleeting thought, added the entire soundtrack to my "Movie Day" playlist on Spotify, and continued on with caring for my clientele and being thankful for where the Lord had led me.

As you can read about elsewhere, I have always enjoyed a love of art my entire life which has led to appreciating select artists, many forms of art, and making art myself. I think all of it stems from my older brother being an amazing artist himself. Growing up, I loved and admired his artwork and anything he created—from quickly drawn silly cartoons to amazing pencil sketched portraits and more. Inspired, I could never draw from memory as quickly as he could (unless you count my repetitive Little Mermaid sketches), and my lines weren't always smooth, but I loved to try. One of my favorite memories is having our own little art session where we sat side by side, Disney's Beauty and the Beast on VHS propped up in front of us, drawing our own versions of the front cover together. His version was obviously so amazing, but he was so encouraging of my efforts! To this day, he still ranks first on my list of favorite artists!

In my opinion, appreciating art in the beauty industry is a little different. While you can appreciate precision, bold colors, asymmetrical haircuts, the runway's avant-garde styles, and out-of-the-box techniques, you can't appreciate an unintentional mess gone wild. A mess that's been poorly executed, deemed finished, and looks nothing like what the client desired cannot be called art. A clientele is a provider's livelihood and reputation. As much as hairstylists wish it to be true, clients don't pay to have a friend—although, maybe it's not such a far fetched idea as I always felt my second job was being a therapist! Ultimately, providing educated service is THE job and a job well done when you know the client is pleased.

As I would later explain to many, while I enjoyed creating for others, it was now one of the main reasons for my burnout. Throughout my entire career, I was always appreciative that I could be creative with my process. It was the way I performed a service to achieve an end result. But that end result? It must be perfect. There were no messes to be made in my line of work. As I stated in my previous post, while the tips and tricks of the beauty industry may evolve, the core basics remain the same. Every service has a standard and should be executed well to maintain satisfaction and reputation. I can definitely appreciate that and understand that to be true for any career. All hairstylists are deemed artists, and while I loved and treasured my canvases (my clients), and I could always enjoy the process, my finished work, and the affirmation of a job well done, I felt that I was an artist who continually created for other people. My creations came with standards and expectations that must always be met (ultimately by others) and it wasn't as freeing as some might think.

By the end of 2018, Craig and I had made our way to the theater to watch yet another inspiring movie—this time, Emily Blunt's Mary Poppins Returns. Although it was fun to watch, it was the opening credits that I loved the most. Beautiful and haphazardly painted scenes engulfed the screen and I was once again drawn back to the feeling of watching The Greatest Showman. I also couldn't help but think of Kyra and the way she painted. All of it held this out of the box freedom and every mess made was purely accidental and perfect.

Watching these movies and obsessing over messy art throughout the year had brought inspiring thoughts and dreams of change to the forefront of my mind. Thoughts and dreams that weren't fully in focus, but ones that I knew had nothing to do with the beauty industry. Choosing to speak them out loud and bounce them off of my husband and sweet and trusted friends helped me to gain a bit of clarity for any next steps I could take, and perhaps the first step was acknowledging that I was starting to feel the inklings of burnout.

Heading into 2019, I decided to meet with the suite leasing manager prior to renewing my contract for another year. I kept them to myself, but I was afraid these new thoughts and feelings would catch up with me before the year's end. I was told the company would work with me in whatever I chose to do after renewing for 2019 and we tentatively chose to table the conversation for 6 months. I knew burnout was a real thing, but I also knew that others who broke their contracts did so due to moving, having babies, or “much more serious” circumstances. I had a choice, but I knew there were still consequences to breaking a contract early. While I was thankful for the leasing manager and our conversation, I hadn't gained much clarity.

Honestly, I knew I had a lot to be thankful for and I hadn't yet categorized burnout as a serious issue—just a daily nuisance. Choosing to renew and fulfill my year long contract through spring of 2020, I sought out other ways to distract me and to keep me creative at home. Continuing to be inspired by Kyra, and having a dabbled a bit the previous year, I purchased more painting supplies and started to create watercolor portraits of my own. She had made it look so easy, but I quickly realized her free and messy style was truly an art in itself—an art of letting go! I was happy to be playing with a different medium than I was used to, but I can't tell you how much my meticulous nature hated it! Despite the lesson in the importance of letting go, reviving my love of art felt nice as I was able to escape and release a bit of creativity that wasn't work related. As paint washed over the paper, I started to think of how Kyra sold her finished products online. Even her process of that seemed haphazard and I loved it—slap it up online and sell it. I had even bought one of her pieces by that point! I had chosen Anne Wheeler from The Greatest Showman and I loved it. Featuring pink hair, the painting was so beautiful and hung in our home, a reminder of big dreams with a lot of color added. I continued to enjoy painting, but as my meticulous nature slowed me down, doubt crept in.

Unfortunately, as is normal for most, money was at the forefront of any of these new thoughts I was having. Selling paintings like Kyra did sound nice, but how realistic was that for me? I was enjoying painting portraits, and while Kyra made it work for her, I wasn't sure I could produce anything quickly enough to make a living. What was I thinking anyway? It was such a lofty idea, a dream. At that point, I couldn't deny that my burnout was growing, and in the very small case I might ever quit in the future, I knew I would need to find something a bit more achievable.

I thought through my options. I knew plenty of people who were invested in multi-level marketing companies, and while it was admirable that they hustled hard to make that work for themselves and their own families and friends, I knew that selling on platforms like that wasn't my cup of tea. If I was to sell anything, I wanted it to speak to what I was interested in. The items themselves had to be unique and not the exact same thing that everyone else in the world was offering. Having also been my own boss for years, I would also prefer control over what items to sell as well as how and when. After clearing out my side of the closet from items no longer worn, I realized that instead of taking them to Plato's Closet (one of my favorite places to shop), I could try my hand at selling them myself on Poshmark. I had purchased a few items through the platform and I knew it was only one of the trendy avenues on which to sell. I researched how to get started and got to work on organizing my online closet. A thrifter at heart with a love of all things secondhand, I was in heaven—you can read more here to see why. I was careful when handling each item and liked that I could work with my hands as I took and edited photos and created listings to my meticulous liking. I made my first sale in July of 2019 and it's been a continued side hustle to this day! Does it bring me the most joy? You'll have to finish reading next week's post to find out!

For as much as I was trying my hardest to ignore my feelings of burnout and distract myself, I couldn't ignore the continued nudge in my spirit to say no by contract's end in 2020. It was true that I was dealing with burnout, but the pull to quit felt stronger than that and I wasn't sure why. I knew the Lord had moved me from place to place over the years and I knew He had been moving in my heart since the latter part of 2018. I felt called to make a decision that I wasn't sure I could make. There were so many factors at play : care of my clients, a history of relationships, money to make, reputation, pride, identity—everything. I would have to let go of it all.

By my time of surrender, I think I had distracted myself, wrestled with my thoughts, made excuses, and had shoved everything down only for it to jump out of the box later. It was no surprise to me that sending an email to the leasing manager with my confirmed decision was a little anticlimactic. Now that my decision could stand alone without my interference, it was time to let my clients know.

To the shock of some, I didn't send out a mass message to let everyone know that I was quitting. By the time I had officially made my decision and sent the email to the leasing manager, I didn't have a lot of time left on my contract. I had an appointment book full of regularly scheduled clients and didn't have a lot of availability. I worried that if I sent a mass message, people would flood my phone wanting in "one last time". Telling my daily schedulers this news was going to be hard enough and I didn't want to navigate the added pressure and guilt of having to turn others away. I also preferred to say this important news in person and I knew that my regulars who saw me daily would be the most affected.

As I relayed my news, the majority of my clients were sad but incredibly understanding. I appreciated their kindness in the midst of comments from others. I would be crying with one client in the morning and be wanting to pull the hair of another that afternoon as I was told that I should never rely on a man to support me and that I should most definitely go back to school. Spoiler alert—I did not pull any hair! If only they knew how much I was already struggling. If only they knew that my husband was showing more excitement than I was at the time. If only they knew how much of a very humbling process it was for me. At that point, I just wanted to start hosting seminars on how not to project your feelings and opinions onto others and the importance of showing empathy towards anyone when possible!

For some (not all) who only scheduled maybe every 4-6 months (or only once a year) and found out after the fact, I was at times blatantly guilted for not letting them know beforehand. I could understand being caught off guard and wanting one last service, but their lack of effort to show any amount of kindness or understanding just affirmed my decision and began to warp my image of who I thought they were. There’s a distinct difference between missing a window and feeling disappointed and reacting rudely in regards to lack of personal gain. There’s never an excuse for the latter. It was clear that their reactions were most definitely not the heart of the majority of my clientele, but unfortunately, those few sour interactions weighed heavily on me. As much as I had tried to believe the best about and cater to everyone while still setting boundaries, I had still dealt with a lot of entitlement from clients over the years and each situation always reminded me of the others. The feelings that would surface from such entitlement always made me feel the need to over-explain myself and unravel any boundaries I ever placed. That battle is tiring in itself and I knew I would miss none of it.

As I left work one day, I was mulling over my thoughts and wondering why I was having such a hard time sharing my news. Sharing my decision over and over and over again day in and day out was exhausting. I continually felt as though I was screwing everyone over. Every time I began to tell someone, I worried what their response would be and wondered if my reason would be enough for them. As sad as it was for me, my thoughts weren't necessarily lingering on the fact that I was ending my career. I couldn't put my finger on it until I had a sudden realization that I was struggling with people pleasing. Speaking of setting boundaries, I thought I had really grown at doing so for myself personally and in my business!

Boundaries require the word no, and over the last several years, I had been proud of myself for learning how to say such a word—not just in my work life but in many areas of life. A hard task in itself, especially within the beauty industry, I felt I had done a pretty good job of learning to discern between giving a firm but gentle no and an authentic and willing yes. I had also come to find that in doing so, some can still take what is truly a kind and gentle no and react to it in the harshest of ways. Unfortunately, those kinds of reactions may be due to more deeply rooted things in their own hearts and I will never have control over that. There is always room to discern when a yes should be given, but saying it out of obligation has potential of leading to resentment—and when not being careful, it can lead to burnout! The fact of the matter is is that no matter my yes or my no, and no matter the reaction, I always need to remain confident in the direction I feel drawn.

Unfortunately, now that I was saying no literally every single day, and while confident in my decision and answer, I was now very aware that I still struggled with pleasing others—especially when they had been in my care for so long and I felt such a responsibility towards them. Although it had gotten easier over the years to say no to many things in and outside of the workplace, I still cared deeply about what every one thought of me and of my decisions. I especially wanted my answer of no to be heard and respected if at all possible, but I still had a very huge desire to be liked after the fact. Being a person that also offered a service for many years, I was used to performing, used to going above and beyond, and used to saying yes. But, I really wanted to be liked for me in and outside of the business—not for what I could do for someone. That right there was the kicker. This accelerated situation of saying no, along with unfortunate past experiences, had made me realize that my inner people pleaser was looking for assurance that I could say no and not be guilted or pressured, yet affirmed and still wanted.

I was both thankful for and annoyed about such clarity on a gloomy day, but I knew I had allowed my perspective to be warped in this season and I needed to reframe my mindset. I knew my heart’s intentions and I knew I was liked and loved for my authentic self by those who knew my heart the best. For those who didn’t or chose not to try, I truly could not expect them to understand—and in the end, I didn’t need them to try. As perfect of a world as that would be, it’s just not so. As hard as my answer of no would continue to be, and as much as I struggled with what people thought of me, it also wasn’t fair of me to collectively box everyone else together and assume they all had the same thoughts. To repeat, no matter anyone’s thoughts, opinions, and/or reactions, I needed to remain confident in the direction I felt drawn. I could look to Jesus for my assurance and feel confident in what I felt He had placed on my heart. His thoughts and words were what mattered overall.

Over the years, I've always believed there's nothing a bit of therapy, a whole lot of Jesus, and good communication can't handle. Knowing that it's always best to be honest and vulnerable with myself, yet having made many mistakes in the process, I like to believe that I've become a little more intentional, self-aware, empathetic, communicative, and willing to reset, embrace change, and grow into new seasons. That day's realizations provided just another opportunity to lean in, pray, process, and shift. My little people pleasing epiphany had taught me a lot.

If you read my last post, you’ll remember that a common reason for leaving the industry was because one was pregnant or simply wanted to stay home with their kids (a harder and much more thankless job)! While pulling the baby card myself would have made making and explaining this decision easier, I do believe it would have kept me from being so honest about why I had decided to quit. As hard as it was, I was really thankful that I had the opportunity to be completely truthful. I felt that it was SO important for me (and for anyone) to speak of burnout, validate it, and then actually do something about it.

While everyone generally understood the feeling of burnout and their sweet comments far outweighed the insensitive ones, I still sensed that some clients wanted a better reason. After all we had been through, I was now choosing to leave all of them and I certainly didn't want anyone to feel like they were a beloved toy tossed aside in Toy Story! In addition to that, I also sensed that some people were thinking that I was trying to rid them from my clientele and I would actually be continuing on at an undisclosed location. Unfortunately, there ARE stylists out there who would do that very thing—or even sacrifice their skills and give a horrible service to be rid of a client. As much as someone might drive me crazy, I really did love and appreciate my clients and had always prided myself in being patient and continuing to provide a service with the utmost care and respect. That being said, I did my best to assure everyone that this was a very hard and very real decision that was affecting everyone in my clientele. The silver lining was that it was all the more of an opportunity to speak of burnout.

After getting the news and assurances out of the way, one last thing I sensed was that people were curious. What was I going to do now? If no baby and no career change, then what? Despite speaking of wanting to seek out other creative avenues, I really didn't know. At the time, I wasn't confident enough to give such an answer. As much as I was trying to validate burnout and do something about it, resting still sounded lazy to me and it definitely did not sound like an answer that most were looking for or even one I wanted to give.

Having made my decision and taking the necessary steps forward, everything was interrupted.

With two weeks left to finish my contract, COVID had hit hard and lockdown was in full swing. For as much as I was going through, I was very aware that others across the globe were dealing with more dire situations involving death, the loss of jobs without a choice, and so many more unknowns. I waded through my guilt but tried my best to remind myself that what I was experiencing was just as valid. Let's be honest, that's a lifelong lesson of which I'm still reminding myself!

During these days of quarantine, I had to reschedule my clients and keep them on hold as I waited on details of when we could re-open our suites. It was such a weird time. So close to the finish line, but learning to be thankful for the pause before actually quitting, I tried to use my time wisely. So used to scheduling others, it was incredibly foreign for me to take out my personal planner and set a schedule for myself for the coming days. In making lists and prioritizing tasks, I quickly realized just how poorly I had been taking care of myself (and my husband). I had let meal planning fall by the wayside, we had both been both working late multiple nights in a row, and it wasn't uncommon to grab Chipotle a few times a week and eat dinner at 10pm at night. I would start many work days without having one sip of water only to realize by that evening that I still hadn't had any water. I wasn't taking my vitamins or supplements, I wasn't moving my body except when contorting it to cut, color, and wash hair, and I certainly hadn't cared enough to realize it until now. There were more realizations, all of them appearing to be such little things, but when added up, they showed me how badly things had spun out of control. While I know I could have been taking better care of myself, especially while working (as many others strive to do), I had let any discipline and prioritizing slip away. I was frustrated with myself yet thankful for the conviction. This pause that lockdown had created had given me new perspective on care and rest. I was determined to implement a new routine and it just so happened that quitting my job was going to help me immensely.

Lockdown had lifted and I was finally able to finish out my contract. Everyone's suite was a literal madhouse as clients were so excited to return and be able to get their quarantine haircuts fixed. I was continuing to say my last goodbyes to everyone, clients and co-workers alike. With social distancing and masking in place, I felt cheated out of how I wanted to say goodbye and I was frustrated by that. With my last days arriving quickly, I knew I would have to clear out my suite and I chose a quiet Sunday afternoon to do so. My mom and Craig were in tow as I wanted to provide them one last formal service—it was to be home haircuts from now on! It was the very last day I could have the keys, and after we were finished and the last hairs swept up, they started to help me clean out my space. My mom (who had also helped me move into the suite) stayed for awhile and then bowed out as my husband loaded the last of the big items into our car. Sensing I needed some time to myself, he left and drove home separately.

I looked around my empty suite. Prior to even moving into it, I had felt a strong urge to only fill it with necessities and decorative pieces that, when the time called for it, could also be used and placed in our home—my ultimate safe haven. I looked at the wall where my "Narnia" tree hung. It was a huge canvas that had stared at me from its location in HomeGoods. With its pink and white leaves, it resembled the Dryads from Narnia and it had been so magical to look at. It would now hang in our bedroom, where I could be sure to see it every day. I took a few moments before leaving. I was sad and feeling super nostalgic, but I thanked the Lord bringing me to this decision and for walking it out with me. I thanked Him for such a space and in such a season. For all the seasons, really. I left notes for some of my co-workers as I would miss them and they were the last crew I'd had. I took a few pictures to remember, left my keys, and walked out the back door one last time.

Loading the last of my items into the car, I realized the passenger seat was occupied as my husband had put a card, fun snack, and a needed box of tissues. Just as he had snuck in flowers and a sweet card on my first day in the suite, he hadn't left the last day untouched. His card held the sweetest words with a touch of Alice in Wonderland whimsy (of course). He was so excited and supportive in a season that was so foreign to me. I started the car and was surprised when Alanis Morissette's song "Hand in My Pocket" started playing right away. I was trying to figure out where it was coming from and quickly realized my husband had not only purchased her acoustic album but had arranged for track #4 to start playing as I turned on the car and drove away. I knew it well, but I told myself again that he's truly the best and most thoughtful. He knew this girl has always liked the angsty music stylings of Alanis and I was kinda head over feet for him. My suite may be empty, our car filled to the brim, and my heart a little broken, but as I drove away, Alanis sang it best—I'm sad but I'm happy, I'm lost but I'm hopeful, and I haven't got it all figured out just yet, but I've got one hand in my pocket and the other one is giving a peace sign.

It's been really sweet and humbling to know that others are reading these posts and wanting to follow along with what I'm trying to document for myself. As you can see, what started as one post will be turned into three by next week! Perhaps a little overwhelming for a reader, I know. If you're up for another round (I'm not sure I am), I'd love for you to join me again as I'll be sharing details of the aftermath, how I’ve processed the unknown, and what adventures lay ahead!

Thank you again for being here and for jumping into all the feelings with me,