Happy New Year! If you follow me on Instagram, you’ve already heard some of this, but welcome to the first blog post of the year. For years I’ve done an annual recap and given each year a title. In the past I’ve called 2015 “The Year of Growing Pains,” 2016 “The Year of Failure,” and 2017 “The Best Year of My Life.”
2018 is “The Year I Realized I Was Building A Life I Didn’t Want.”
At the start of 2018 I made several big changes: I hired a full-time nanny, leased a new studio, and added two employees to the team. Two goals I set the year before were to “Ask for Help” and “Choose Convenience Without Guilt,” and in many ways I accomplished both. We built a strong team, I gained a more convenient commute, and our revenue more than doubled. On paper it looked like a massive win.
But despite those outward successes, my mental and physical health deteriorated. I found myself scanning job listings for traditional 9–5 roles and even asking Jeff whether he could go back to a desk job so I could stay home with Arlo. I was overwhelmed and exhausted in a way that made me question everything.
By the end of 2018 I made the difficult decision to undo much of what I’d built. It was painful and it affected more people than just me, but I wasn’t showing up as a good boss, wife, mom, or friend. Letting go felt like the responsible choice for everyone involved.
After conversations with close friends and family, I realized the root of the problem: I had been chasing a dream that wasn’t mine. I’d worked so hard to reach what I thought I wanted—bigger offices, larger teams, and a growing public profile—but I’d already achieved my real dream without noticing. My original goal in starting Studio DIY was to create flexibility that would accommodate my health and family priorities, not to become a CEO of a large company. I unknowingly reached that dream back in 2017, at 27 years old.
In 2017 I became a mom, slimmed my team down to one, spent most days at home with my family, and still ran a successful business. I was happier than I had ever been. So why did I trade that for growth that didn’t suit me? The answer, in part, is the influence of the internet—constant exposure to other people’s milestones made me confuse what I truly wanted with what I thought I should want.
Now, on January 7, 2019, I’m writing from my new home “studio” (my couch). My full-time team is one person—me—and tomorrow I have a mommy-and-me dance class scheduled with my son. It feels like the right step, even if it looks like taking ten steps back professionally. I made that choice because I needed to protect my health and my family life.
Admitting that I’d dropped every ball was humbling. I missed out on major deals, made mistakes with clients, pursued projects that didn’t excite me, let down employees who trusted me, and missed important personal moments. It forced a lesson: bigger isn’t always better, and money isn’t everything.
This year I’m giving myself permission to have less overhead, take on less work, and work without rigid office hours. I want to expand my creativity, reconnect with people I’d set aside, and most importantly, be the kind of mom I need to be right now. I plan to work smarter, with less pressure, and to aim for a healthier mental and creative state a year from now.
I know I’m privileged to have the option to make these choices, and I don’t take that for granted. At the same time, I want to acknowledge the cultural pressure many women face: the message that you must be able to do it all. That’s true for some—and wonderful—but it’s not my path. My personality and my circumstances mean I can’t sustainably manage a huge team while being the presence I want to be at home.
Hitting the reset button feels freeing. I’m excited to explore projects I didn’t have time for before and to reclaim the creative energy parenthood shifted. I plan to devote time to our home renovations so our space finally reflects us, and to rebuild moments I sacrificed in the past. I’ll still have help, but it will be remote so my focus can remain on what matters most right now.
I’m grateful for the support of readers and followers—your encouragement has given me the space to choose my health and family. Rather than a long list of goals, my main focus this year is simple: to prioritize me, explore my creativity, and be present with my growing family.
So here’s to 2019. I don’t know if this is the best or worst decision I’ve made, but it feels right for now. I’ll be sharing more as I settle into this new season. I’m planning a reader survey soon and I’d love to hear what you’re prioritizing this year—please share in the comments. Thank you again for being here; your support means everything.