If someone had told me at twenty-two, fresh out of engineering school and fueled by equal parts ambition and caffeine, that I’d one day be running a coworking space instead of breaking down transmissions and dismantling the patriarchy from the inside… I probably would have laughed. Loudly. The kind of laugh you do when something is so absurdly off-base that your brain doesn’t even categorize it as an option.

Back then, I was the “big-brained lady engineer.” The girl bosses of girl bosses. The woman at the table who could do the math, run the model, and give a design review without blinking. I really believed that was where I belonged. Or at least, I believed that was where I was supposed to belong. The paycheck was excellent. The benefits were solid. Six figures, 401k match, employer-subsidized healthcare—the whole corporate starter pack. The world tells you that if you have that, you should be grateful. Comfortable. Secure.

But being secure and being fulfilled are not the same thing. And being comfortable and being happy definitely aren’t either.

The Dream That Didn’t Fit

Here’s the truth I didn’t want to admit for a long time: being an engineer was just not for me.

I mean, yes—I'm smart. But I wasn’t the kid ripping apart electronics or taking apart my toys “just to see how they worked.” I didn’t care how things worked. I wanted them to work so I could move on with my life. Meanwhile, I’m in an industry where people genuinely took joy in dismantling carburetors for fun. For fun.

And then there was the patriarchy. Look, I went in ready to swing. But fighting the patriarchy from the inside is exhausting in a way that you can’t fully understand until you're the only woman in a meeting full of men debating a design change nobody actually wants to own. It’s like fighting a hydra that also sends you Outlook invites.

I thought that if I could just push harder, get smarter, climb higher, something would click into place. But every year, the same quiet thought kept creeping back in:

Is this really it? Am I supposed to spend the next 30 years doing a job that makes me feel… less?

And that’s when the fear set in.

Because changing jobs is one thing. But changing careers?
That feels like stepping off a cliff with no parachute.

Your “Side Hustles” Know the Truth Before You Do

Even while I was making that shiny six-figure salary, I was always selling something online. I didn’t think much of it at first. eBay, Etsy, Facebook Marketplace—whatever platform was available, I was selling on it. Clothes, shoes, baby gear, craft projects, random household items. If it wasn’t nailed down, it had a price tag.

If I’d had to bet back then, I would’ve put every dollar on me becoming some kind of ecommerce queenpin. An empire of bubble mailers, packing tape, and “thank you for your purchase!” notes.

And honestly? That version of me is still here. I still get that thrill when I make a sale online or at a festival. I still have that little baby ecommerce empire, growing slowly in the background like a succulent that thrives on neglect.

Because that’s the part of entrepreneurship people don’t talk about enough:
Your passions don’t whisper. They repeat themselves until you listen.

Mine were shouting through every notification on my phone.

Entrepreneurship Has No Typical Day—And That’s the Point

When I finally made the jump—slowly, awkwardly, with more anxiety than I want to admit—into owning my own business, the thing that shocked me most was how much I loved the variety.

The best part about being a business owner isn’t the money (though money is great and we all need it).
It’s the freedom.

Every day is different. Some tasks reappear weekly or monthly—bookkeeping, cleaning, ordering supplies, keeping my website from spontaneously breaking—but the real joy? It’s in the people. The conversations. The stories.

Since opening my coworking space (yes, that curveball), I’ve met more entrepreneurs in five years than I ever knew existed. People building businesses from laptops, from their garages, from side hustles that turned into careers they never expected.

People like me.

In this world, you’re not the odd one out anymore.
You’re not the “weird entrepreneurial friend.”
You’re surrounded by others who think just like you do—creators, builders, risk-takers.

Suddenly you’re part of a community where it’s completely normal to brainstorm business ideas for fun. Where someone says, “Hear me out…” and everyone at the table leans in like it’s story time.

It feels like belonging.

The Work Is Hard—But It’s a Good Hard

I’m not going to sugarcoat it: owning a business is hard.
You’ll be tired. You’ll have late nights. You’ll have weekends where you’re working while your friends are out at brunch.

But it’s a good tired.

The kind of tired that comes from putting effort into something that is yours.

When I’m deep in my monthly QuickBooks reconciliations or recovering from a long festival weekend, I’m tired—but I’m also proud. Because after the bookkeeping is done, I get to see the numbers. I get to watch my profit grow. I get to see how far my business has come from zero to sustainable.

And that weekend I just worked?
I made enough in 72 hours to cover my family’s expenses for a month.

Gas. Mortgage. Groceries.
All covered in one sweaty, blister-filled, adrenaline-fueled weekend.

You want to talk about freedom?
That’s freedom.

Our Life Isn’t Glamorous—But It’s Ours

We’re not living some flashy entrepreneur lifestyle.
We’re comfortably upper-middle class, but nothing over the top.
Used cars. Kohl’s and Amazon wardrobes. Maybe a dinner out once or twice a month if we’re feeling fancy.

We’re not on yachts.
We’re not sipping champagne at 2pm on a Wednesday.
We’re working. Hard.

We’re paying back an SBA loan for the coworking space. I only have two truly high-earning festival weekends a year. I’m still figuring out which markets and products are worth my time away from the kids. And our health insurance is $1,500 a month even with a high-deductible plan. (If that doesn’t make you question everything about the American healthcare system, I don’t know what will.)

But even with all that, even with the stress and the uncertainty, here’s the truth:

We made it. Not to the end of the journey, but to a place where the life we wanted is actually becoming real.

We started this path in 2020, terrified, underprepared, and convinced we were going to fail.
And now?

We’re sustainable.
We’re growing.
We’re still standing.

Time Freedom Changes Everything

This is the part that mattered most to me, and I know it matters to a lot of moms and professionals feeling stuck:

I have control over my time.

If my kid is sick, I don’t have to beg for PTO.
If school calls, I go.
If childcare falls apart (as it inevitably does), I adjust.
If there’s a recital, an appointment, a classroom volunteer day—I’m there.

It still all goes on the calendar. I still plan ahead. But the difference is, I can take the time. My life no longer has to be squeezed into the leftover spaces around someone else’s agenda.

I take my kid to school every morning.
Every single morning.

That alone makes the sacrifice worth it.

The Fear Is Real—But So Is the Reward

Let me say what most people are scared to admit:

Starting a business is terrifying.

It’s slow.
It’s confusing.
You will think you’re failing more times than you can count.
You will question every decision you make.

But you know what’s also terrifying?

Waking up every day to a career that drains you.
Feeling stuck because the salary is good but the life isn’t.
Missing moments with your kids because your job owns your time.
Building resentment toward a career you worked so hard to get.

There’s no path in this life that is free of difficulty.
Every option has a cost.
Every choice requires sacrifice.

Which brings me to the message I want to leave you with—one that took me years to fully understand:

Choose Your Hard

Staying in a job you don't like—even if it pays well, even if the benefits are great, even if everyone tells you you'd be crazy to leave—is hard.

Starting a business from scratch is also hard.
The difference is that one hard drains you… and the other grows you.

I can’t decide for you if entrepreneurship is worth it.
No one can.

But I can tell you this:

It was worth it for me.
Life on the other side of fear was worth every sacrifice.
And it is never too late to choose a different path.

If you’re standing on the edge, wondering whether you’re allowed to want something more—this is your sign.

Your time is your life.
Your energy is finite.
Your dreams matter.

Choose your hard.
Choose the life that feels like yours.