i built a thriving business (and all i got was this anxiety disorder)
A few months into starting my business, I developed a mystery health issue. Several times a day, I would experience a wave of discomfort ranging from something akin to a hot flash, to a wave a nausea or lightheadedness, to an elevated heart rate. These episodes didn’t necessarily feel too serious, but they were happening every single day. So, I made a doctor’s appointment. Thanks to a mix of Google and general knowledge of my family history, I thought I might be having a blood sugar or thyroid issue.
Two minutes into describing my symptoms, I received a preliminary diagnosis: I was most likely having panic attacks. (And don’t worry, they also ran tests to confirm there wasn’t a physical problem.)
It’s unfair to blame all of my anxiety on my business. Looking back, I definitely had the occasional panic attack in my youth. I’d always felt an immense pressure to “perform” well. To get perfect grades. To get into the best colleges. But with all the worries and unrealistic expectations of my youth, I knew where I was going. There was a roadmap. A test to study for, an essay to write, a tangible goal to work towards.
So, yes, the signs of my anxiety disorder were there earlier on in life. But things really kicked into gear when I went all-in on becoming an entrepreneur. There was no study guide to follow (at least, not one that I felt I could afford at the time). Every day, I was met with a new something that I didn’t know anything about. Forming an LLC. Utilizing SEO on Etsy. Building a website. Setting up a sales tax license. I felt lost almost all the time.
More importantly, it was the first time in my life that I was working towards a goal that was fully, unequivocally mine. It wasn’t the next logical step of a practical life, it wasn’t what I was “supposed” to do, it wasn’t even what I’d studied in school. It was simply what I wanted.
And with that came a degree of risk that I had simply never experienced before. I was entering uncharted territory. What exactly was I trying to do here? What was “success” going to look like for this business? What did I want out of it? What was I even going to name it? Suddenly, everything was on me. It was liberating. It was exciting. It was… absolutely terrifying.
I was putting my inner hopes and dreams directly into the public eye. I was opening myself up to judgement and rejection. I was revealing my countless shortcomings to the world. I remember thinking over and over that failure was not an option, because how embarrassing would that be?
As the business grew, the anxiety never abated. If anything, it built, it got worse, it became a monster lurking over my shoulder at every moment of every day. With each new achievement — growth in sales, nationwide retailers, new streams of revenue — there were always new unknowns and new uncertainty. What if I can’t figure it all out? What if I fall flat on my face? What if I am simply not good enough?
The anxiety has been so present and so personal because my business and I have been deeply intertwined from the start. It began as a way to find myself, to pursue a dream in my first decade of adulthood, to create meaning in my career path. Over time, we morphed into a single being, inextricable from one another. The business wasn’t part of my life, it was my life. I poured my whole self into it in an effort to keep building, and then to keep up with its growth, and always, to keep those anxious thoughts at bay. It was endless and exhilarating and exhausting and I also didn’t know how to get myself out of it.
As I mentioned in my previous post, I finally started outsourcing some aspects of my work last year. We moved our inventory to a fulfillment center, and in a blink,* I went from packaging thousands of cards and stickers and notepads a week to… checking our warehouse dashboard once a day to make sure orders are shipping on time. There’s more to it than that, of course — managing inventory, coordinating production and shipping of said inventory from our printers to the warehouse, etc.
* It was actually three excruciating weeks of waiting for our warehouse team to get everything processed and set up so we could resume shipping orders, but who’s counting?
One change in operations completely altered my relationship with my business, but not in the way I expected. I gave myself back more time than I’d had in over six years, and instead of feeling relief and freedom, I felt more lost than I ever had before.
I didn’t know how to fill my time, because my business wasn’t dictating every moment of my day. I felt no sense of purpose, because my purpose had become what the business demanded of me. I didn’t know who I was, who I wanted to be, or even what I liked to do. In addition to building my business, I was suddenly rebuilding myself as well. That familiar, anxious mantra started getting louder again. What if I can’t figure it all out? What if I fall flat on my face? What if I am simply not good enough?
I don’t have the answers. I’m still running (and growing) the business after all, albeit in slightly less strenuous ways. But, I’ve been working on it. Digging deep. Writing it all down. Getting off my phone. Being on my phone too much. Giving myself time to consume lowbrow content. Giving myself time to engage with highbrow content. Giving myself time to do absolutely nothing at all. Learning how to be myself again.