Perfect. A Story of Love, Hate, and Rediscovery.

I went on a Why discovery binge a couple years ago. I felt completely lost and hoped if I could find my why, I’d find myself, and hopefully my happiness along the way.

Of course, I already knew my why. I already knew what made my heart sing and how I could use that to help others, it just didn’t fit into the day to day reality I’d created.

I also already knew what was bumming me out. I didn’t particularly like my job. I didn’t particularly enjoy working with most of the people I was working with. Kind of an odd place to be when you own the company.

I hated pretty much everything that we did. I hated the time I wasted in meetings. I hated the over the top bubblegum service in our cafes. I hated our merch designs. I hated our product photography, our social media posts, our website copy, our leadership team dynamic. I hated my relationships with my business partners. I hated how people offered up ideas I’d brought up years ago and acted like they’d fucking discovered Atlantis. I hated it.

But I’d never admit it. I lied about loving my job all the time. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?

So I showed up and clocked in. Then I’d go home and work on my why discovery. I was shocked that happiness wasn’t flying off the page. There was no electricity like I’d been promised. No “Aha!” moment. No clouds parting and no epic ray of light to illuminate my path to glory. These why discoveries were about as big of a letdown as owning a business was.

But I’d never admit it.

“Maybe this isn’t the place for me,” I thought. Maybe I could get a regular job. Maybe I could be a writer–I like writing!

I told one of my closest friends I wanted to write instead of owning a coffee company. He looked at me like I was out of my mind and asked me what I’d written that anyone had paid for. I hate honest friends.

I couldn’t figure out what the fuck I was supposed to be doing. Everything that was supposed to feel good didn’t.

So in a last-ditch effort, I started having honest conversations. I said things to my partners like:

“I feel really shitty when you do this,” and “There’s no way this can happen.”

They said similar things to me. It was stressful and refreshing at the same time.

I asked people who worked for us that seemed to be even more unhappy than me questions like: “What makes you want to work here?” and “Is there a better path for you to use your passions and skills?”

There was a mix of tears, anger, blame, then (sometimes) acceptance.

I handled the whole thing pretty poorly but it bore fruit.

I stopped doing my why discoveries and started doing projects instead. Writing, drawing, filming and editing. I channeled my inner self. What would young me do? What has consistently brought me joy over the years? Brought me closer to other people? Brought me closer to myself?

I didn’t journal about it, I didn’t make graphs, I simply did it.

Through the work, I slowly rediscovered my why. Of course, I’d known my why the whole time. All I had to do was have the courage to be honest with myself and share that honesty with others.

So here I am on a new journey. Rebuilding my love for this thing I helped create. Taking ownership of the part I played in letting it feel so underwhelming. Letting go of what doesn’t serve me. Using my rediscovered gifts. Building new relationships and rebuilding old ones.

Is it perfect? No. But I accept and embrace my power to help mold and shape it instead of just being mad about it.

I never wanted to own a business because I knew that if the vision in my head didn’t line up with what existed in reality, I couldn’t deal with that. I couldn’t own that. I didn’t want that weight on my shoulders. I didn’t want that glaring imperfection to be so closely attached to my name.

But a business is like a person. It’s got quirks. It can never be more perfect than the people that are helping to shape and build it, and imperfect people build imperfect things. The same rule that applies to all the amazing people in your life also applies to your business, project, or idea:

You don’t fall in love with something because it’s perfect, it’s perfect because you fall in love with it, and to fall in love with it you have to show up.