I’ve been running some form of a small business since I graduated high school.

My first real entry into this world was painting shoes. I designed them, bought inexpensive pairs from Walmart, and spent hours painting each one—often selling them for more than four times what I paid. At the time, I was thrilled. People genuinely liked what I made, and it felt like every weekend I was working on at least ten pairs. That income covered gas money, fun expenses while I was in college, and even helped me buy a new computer. I learned how to write off expenses and, as a teenager, I thought I was doing pretty well.

In reality, I had no idea what I was doing.

Fast forward to 2020, when my life plan took a sharp turn. I had lost my passion for painting and managing customer requests. I was deeply frustrated, burnt out, and struggling in ways I didn’t yet have words for. So instead of creating for others, I started drawing—for myself. I doodled. I experimented. I bought a Cricut. I opened a new Etsy shop. I started another business after quitting my job and moving to Texas.

That second business changed everything.

It taught me about inventory, production goals, sourcing, and working with others. I moved from being behind a computer screen to doing pop-ups, fairs, farmers markets, conventions, and expos. I hired my mom, my granny, my aunt, my best friends—anyone I could trust—because I couldn’t keep up with the volume alone. I learned about setup and teardown logistics, managing books more responsibly, and how quickly costs add up when sourcing products overseas.

I ran that business for about two years before returning to a full-time job. Not because it failed—but because my goals had grown. I wanted to expand into new product markets, and expansion requires capital. I realized that while what I was doing worked, it wasn’t working as efficiently or strategically as it could.

So I went back to school.

What started as community college classes turned into an MBA program, and I poured everything I had into learning. Right now, I’m not actively growing my small business the way I once was—because let’s be honest, not everyone can justify a $5 sticker when that same $5 needs to go toward groceries. My business isn’t irrelevant, but it’s no longer operating at the scale it did in 2021.

And still—being a small business owner has shaped me more than any job ever has.

I’ve spent more hours investing in products that sell for small amounts than I’ve spent at my 9-to-5. I’ve invested in ideas others might consider impractical. I’ve invested in learning, in pivoting, and in myself. That’s the thing about small business owners: we don’t quit—we adapt. We love our teams because, for many of us, they’re the reason we can keep going. And we love what we do because if we didn’t… we wouldn’t know what else to do.

Here’s to a new year of pivoting, learning, and building—one step at a time.