How to do hard things (without feeling ready)
Well, hello there. It’s been a minute. And by a minute, I mean I haven’t sent one of these emails since May. MAY! What the actual f*&^?
It’s not that I haven’t wanted to write. In fact, sending this newsletter has been on my to-do list every single month. And every single month, I’ve moved it to the next month. Not because I didn’t have anything to say, but because I had so much to say and couldn’t figure out how to say it.
If you’ve been reading these letters for a while, you know they tend to get pretty personal. I’ve never been particularly good at separating my work from my life, probably because I’ve spent most of my adult life building businesses around things I love and believe in. And when your work is that intertwined with who you are, the lines get pretty blurry.
The truth is, the past couple of years have been wild. And not always in the fun, dancing-on-a-table-with-your-friends kind of way.
Years ago, I took a course with Amy Porterfield about creating an online course. A course about creating a course. How meta is that? Anyway, one of the things she said that stuck with me was, “Show your scars, not your wounds.”
I’ve thought about that advice a lot over the past couple of years. The idea is that when you’re going through something difficult, you don’t necessarily need to share it while you’re still in the thick of it. You can wait until you’ve processed it, learned something, and gained a little perspective.
And I’ve stayed pretty quiet because, well, I’ve been wounded.
But lately I’ve been wondering, what if I’m waiting for some magical moment when everything is healed and figured out? What if that moment never comes? What if being human means we’re always healing from something, learning something, and figuring something out?
So here I am. Wounds, scars, and all.
WORK IN PROGRESS
A while back, I designed a pin and T-shirt that simply said “Work in Progress.” At the time, I thought it was a clever little reminder that none of us has everything figured out. These days, it feels more like my personal manifesto.
I’m a work in progress. And the thing about progress is that it isn’t always pretty, linear, or happening at the pace we’d like. Sometimes you want to move forward an inch and you only manage a millimeter. But you know what? A millimeter is still movement. Even if it takes a week to get there. Even if you spend the next week standing still. Even if you occasionally find yourself moving backward.
About two years ago, some significant changes happened in my business. I won’t get into all the details here, but they were painful, complicated, and took me a long time to process. If you’ve ever built a creative business, you probably understand that it’s never just business. It’s your heart, your ideas, your relationships, your identity, your hopes, and sometimes your entire life wrapped up in one thing.
For a while, I was hurt, exhausted, and honestly just going through the motions. Keeping things running, showing up where I needed to, doing the work, but not feeling that same spark I’d always had. And that was scary because I’ve always been someone with a million ideas who can’t wait to make them happen.
In moments like this I think about this E. L. Doctorow quote, “Writing a novel is like driving a car at night. You can never see further than your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.”
You don’t need to see the entire road to get where you’re going. You just need to see enough to keep moving.
I keep coming back to that idea because when you’re in the middle of something painful or uncertain, you want to know how it ends. You want someone to hand you a map and say, “Don’t worry, in six months everything is going to be okay.” But life doesn’t work like that. Sometimes you just have to keep driving, and one day you look around and realize you’re somewhere you couldn’t have imagined when you started.
And maybe, just maybe, you’re okay.
AND THEN THERE’S THE PERSONAL STUFF…
About a year ago, my husband and I separated after 15 years together. It’s not something I’ve shared much about publicly, partly because it’s deeply personal and partly because I was still trying to understand what it meant for my life.
I’m grateful that we’ve been able to navigate the separation amicably and that we’re both committed to putting our son, Luca, first. But even under the best circumstances, ending a relationship that’s been part of your life for 15 years is enormous. There’s grief, uncertainty, and the strange experience of trying to figure out who you are outside of a life you spent so many years building.
And then, because apparently the universe thought I needed a little extra existential crisis, I turned 50.
FIFTY.
I know it’s just a number, but holy sh*t, that one hit me hard. Milestone birthdays have a way of making you take inventory of your entire life, whether you want to or not. What have I accomplished? What haven’t I accomplished? Am I where I thought I’d be? Who am I now? What do I want the next chapter to look like? And how did I get here so fast?
I’d originally imagined a big, weeklong birthday celebration, but I waited too long to invite people, many people had other commitments, and the whole thing started feeling like more work than fun. So I scaled it back to two nights in Las Vegas with some of my favorite people and a little debauchery.
And you know what? It was perfect.
Most of the people who came were friends I’d met through Craftcation and Patchwork Show, along with my guitar teacher/BFF, who some of you met at Craftcation this year.
There were so many wonderful moments that weekend, but one of my favorites was something simple. We were floating down the lazy river at the MGM Grand, and I looked over to see a Craftcation presenter, someone I work with, and my guitar teacher having this incredibly intimate, vulnerable conversation.
Three people from different parts of my life who probably never would have met if it weren’t for this weird, wonderful world I’ve built around creativity. And there they were, floating around a lazy river in Vegas, talking about life like they’d known each other forever.
That moment really got me. Because somewhere along the way, this thing I started building over 20 years ago had become so much more than a business. It had become a community. A family of sorts. A place where people find each other, support each other, and form relationships that extend far beyond a craft show or conference.
And I get to be part of that. How lucky am I?
I’M STILL HERE
There’s a scene in Postcards from the Edge where Shirley MacLaine’s character sings “I’m Still Here.” If you haven’t seen it, please do yourself a favor and watch it. It’s a song about surviving everything life throws at you and still managing to show up.
And lately, that’s kind of how I feel. I’m still here. Still making things, building things, occasionally (ahem… often) screwing things up, learning, and trying to figure out who I am and what I want. And, maybe most importantly, still excited about what’s next.
I realized recently that the last time I went this quiet in these emails was when I was pregnant with Luca. After seven years of trying to have a baby, multiple miscarriages, and a whole lot of heartbreak, I was terrified to share anything while I was pregnant. I was so afraid of what might happen that I kept much of that experience to myself. Then Luca arrived, COVID happened, and the world turned upside down.
Looking back, I can see a pattern. When things get really hard, I tend to retreat. I put my head down, do what needs to be done, and wait until I feel like I have something useful or meaningful to say.
But I’m starting to wonder if maybe the most meaningful thing I can say sometimes is simply, “Hey, this is hard. I’m figuring it out.”
Because I know I’m not the only one. Maybe you’re going through a divorce, your business isn’t where you hoped it would be, or you’re navigating grief, aging, parenthood, a career change, or just the general mindf*ck of being alive right now.
Whatever it is, I hope you know that you don’t have to have everything figured out to keep moving forward.
FINDING MY SPARK AGAIN
Here’s the thing I didn’t see coming. After all the upheaval, exhaustion, and uncertainty, I’m starting to feel something I haven’t felt in a while. That spark. That feeling of waking up with a million ideas and being genuinely excited to make them happen.
We’ve also been making some big changes behind the scenes in my business. We’ve restructured our team, and through it all, LeAnn has continued to amaze and inspire me. Her dedication to our community, her ability to see the big picture while somehow keeping track of a million tiny details, and the ways she continually finds to streamline our systems and make things run more efficiently have been invaluable. I’m so grateful to have someone by my side who cares as deeply about what we’re building as I do.
I’ve also recently started working with a business consultant who’s helping me take a good, hard look at every aspect of my business. We’re digging into the finances, operations, and systems, revisiting our mission, and figuring out what the next chapter looks like. It’s part rebuilding, part reimagining, and part figuring out how to create a business that’s not only financially sustainable but also sustainable for me as a human being. Because as much as I love what I do, I’ve learned that passion alone can’t keep a business (or a person) going forever.
And honestly, it feels good to be making thoughtful decisions about the future instead of constantly reacting to whatever fire needs putting out that day.
And a huge part of finding that spark and wanting to make these changes has to do with this community.
We’re heading into our fall Patchwork Show season, and I can’t tell you how excited I am to see everyone come together again. I’ve been producing Patchwork Show since 2007, and nearly 20 years later, I still get that feeling when I walk through a show and see what we’ve created together. Makers turning their ideas into businesses. Shoppers supporting independent artists. Friendships forming between neighboring booths. People showing up year after year because they know they’re part of something special.
And then there’s Craftcation Conference . We’re celebrating our 15th anniversary in 2027, which honestly blows my mind. Every year, I watch strangers become friends, people discover new passions, and creative dreams turn into reality. Knowing that something we created has made a meaningful difference in people’s lives is one of the biggest reasons I keep doing this work.
.These gatherings feel more important than ever. Patchwork Show and Craftcation have never been just about selling handmade things or learning new skills. They’re about creativity, connection, and showing up for each other. And they’re a reminder of why I started all of this in the first place.
If you’re in Southern California or the Bay Area, I’d love to see you at a Patchwork Show this season! Our shows are free to attend, and you can find upcoming dates and locations here.
And if you’ve ever thought about coming to Craftcation, maybe 2027 is your year! We’re celebrating 15 years of creativity and community March 31–April 4 in Ventura. Learn more here.
