Hey there,

Five years ago, in the middle¹ of a global pandemic, I quit my job.

Now stop me if you’ve heard this one before (you have!), but I was burned out.

I had no separation from my personal life and work, I was tired of daily Zoom meetings where we all shared what weird house projects we were working on between status updates and pretending to care about our clients’ urgent need to sell high-ticket memberships to a private crypto club (yep, that was real).

I still have a copy of my resignation letter. I read it every year as part of my self-employment anniversary ritual to make sure I’m still sane for quitting that job (I am). But this year things felt a little different. I didn’t have the fist-pumping, “HELL YEAH!” vibes going for me. Because I realized I’m experiencing some of the same turmoil again. But this time, it’s not coming from a micromanaging boss or a chaotic work culture.

The call is coming from inside the house.

That’s what I’m digging into in this week’s issue of Brand Burnout. Plus, I’m sharing some of the things I’m quitting and what that means for my business from here on out (don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere).

I accidentally² built a brand based on having strong feelings and opinions. From co-hosting Scope Creep to saying the quiet part loud on stage, I’m no stranger to showing up. Spend 30 seconds on my LinkedIn profile and you’ll know (or at least have an assumption about) where I stand on most issues.

But since I started my business in 2020, things have changed—some opinions included.

Every year for the past five years, I think I’ve said, “Owning a business in [insert year here] is a lot.” And all the business owners in the room knowingly nod their heads.

For me, “a lot” in 2020 looked like Zoom fatigue, an overwhelming amount of online noise, a rise in digital coaching empires, and the pressure to scale.

In 2025, “a lot” feels different. Leads that used to take weeks to convert now take months. We’re all waiting on someone to sign the next contract. There’s talk of a recession, budgets are shrinking, the job market sucks, and *gestures wildly* YOU KNOW.

Every year has been hard. Because every year has had a new set of challenges.

Since the calendar turned to January 2025, I’ve felt like I’m constantly pivoting to something new and adapting to answer what’s being asked. All while trying to hold on to what’s gotten me this far.

*Deep Breath*

And then I remember that I can’t (and shouldn’t) hold on to everything because my hands are big—but they aren’t that big. Eventually, something gives. And I’d rather choose what to let go of than have it dramatically shatter when it hits the floor.

Some of the things I’m letting go of are things I was certain I’d never quit.

That’s the tricky part about building a brand rooted in conviction—you start to feel like changing your mind makes you inconsistent. But I’m learning (slowly, and with the greatest resistance) that evolution isn’t a sign of inconsistency. It’s growth.

I said I’d never run a group program. I like (and value) the depth of 1:1 work too much. I thought a group program could never be a substitute. That’s because it’s not a substitute. It’s something different, and here I am building it.

I said I’d only do project work from here on out. But my revenue and nervous system said otherwise, and I just signed a fractional marketing retainer.

Not too long ago, I remember rolling my eyes at a pro bono request. Not because I don’t care, but because I didn’t think I could make the space. But when a nonprofit I care deeply about needed a helping hand, I jumped in. And it turns out, I do have space for that kind of work—when it’s aligned, and when boundaries are clear.

Less than a year ago, I launched a paid tier to this very newsletter. I had a vision. I had ideas. But a few months in, I realized I didn’t love the box I’d created for myself. So I let it go.

You’re Allowed to Change Your Mind

Each of these shifts has felt like brand betrayal. Who am I if not the strong-opinioned brand person? Changing my mind felt like breaking promises to myself and to my audience.

But here’s what I’m constantly learning.

You’re allowed to change your mind. Even (especially?) when you’re building a brand.

All of this turmoil has been a reminder that my brand wasn’t built as an inflexible monument to my past self selves. It’s a living, breathing entity that’s meant to grow with me. The brands we build are meant to evolve; they need to hold complexity and make space for the messy, human parts of building a business.

And this level of clarity didn’t come from sitting by myself, overthinking every possible outcome. It came from talking to other people:

• A 1:1 workshop with Laura Green, who helped me loosen my grip on the things I didn’t need to carry anymore and reconnect to the deeper meaning behind my work.

• A coaching session with Jenni Gritters, who challenged me to think beyond the container I’d unknowingly built for myself and step into a more sustainable vision for what’s next.

The result? A clearer path forward that’s still mine—it just looks a little different. Not rebranded. Just refined.

So if you’re feeling a shift, consider this your permission slip. You're not being flaky. You’re growing. And your brand can grow with you.

Thanks for reading,

1  I thought it was the middle…it was more like 1% of the way over.

2  Was it really an accident? NOPE.