When It’s Time to Change the Thing You’re Known For

Sometimes the hardest changes aren’t the ones we’re bad at.

They’re the ones we’re good at.

For years, I painted furniture. Many of you have been here since the beginning—back when I was painting old dressers in my basement and in the garage, trying things, learning as I went.

And you showed up.

You bought pieces.
You cheered me on.
You told your friends.

I loved it. Truly.

But something else was happening during those years that I didn’t expect.

When you came to pick up a piece of furniture, we didn’t just talk about paint colors. We talked about life. You told me how tired you were. How overwhelming it felt to decorate your home. How you didn’t even know where to start.

So many of you told me the same thing in different ways:

You were longing for peace in your home.

And I loved those conversations.

We cried in my garage.
I made coffee for some of you.
I poured a glass of wine for others.
We sat in my pole barn and talked for hours.

Somewhere in those conversations, something began to change in me.

I realized that my business was never really about painting furniture.

It was about listening to women.

It was about helping you create spaces that felt calm instead of chaotic. Homes that felt like a refuge instead of another thing on your to-do list.

But for a long time, I ignored that shift.

Because I was good at painting furniture.

And when people tell you you’re good at something… it feels good. It feels safe. So you keep going, even when something inside of you is starting to change.

Can you relate to that?

Sometimes the tug in your heart starts quietly.

And if you ignore it long enough, it eventually becomes something stronger.

For me, it felt like a roundhouse kick.

Here’s the truth I had to learn:

You don’t need my permission to change.

And you don’t need anyone else’s either.

Change is scary. I know that firsthand.

But instead of fighting the fear, I’ve learned to think of it differently.

I picture my fear like Two Socks, the coyote in Dances with Wolves — the one who quietly watched Kevin Costner’s character bathing in the pond, curious but cautious.

Two Socks wasn’t dangerous.

He was just watching.

Curious.

That’s how fear often shows up when we’re about to change something in our lives.

It circles a little.
It watches.
It makes us nervous.

But it isn’t there to stop us.

Sometimes it’s just there because we’re stepping into something new.

So instead of running from fear, I’ve learned to entertain the curious coyote.

Make friends with it.

Like John Dunbar heading out to his lonely frontier post, you may not know exactly what comes next. It might feel uncertain. It might feel quiet for a while.

But that doesn’t mean you’re going the wrong direction.

It just means you’re not the same woman you were before.

You’re moving.
Breathing.
Changing.

And if something in your life—your job, your business, your role, the thing everyone knows you for—has slowly (or suddenly) caused you to pause and ask yourself what comes next…