Beauty, Boundaries, and the Burnout That Saved Me

The salon chair was never just about hair.

For as long as I can remember, my salon conversations went deep.
I didn’t think much of it until client after client started reflecting it back to me.
“I don’t know why I’m crying.”
“This feels like therapy.”
“Wait, this isn’t normal? People don’t usually cry after asking for bangs?”

It was in those moments I started to realize: I wasn’t just cutting hair, I was holding space and I had been doing it since I was 18.

Looking back now, I can see how hairstyling was the first place I learned about people.
How to listen.
How to ask the right questions.
How to sit with someone in their emotions, even when they didn’t have words for them yet.

But I didn’t have the awareness I do now.
Back then, a part of me believed that if I could just help people—fix them, save them, give them a moment of relief—then maybe I’d feel more in control of my own life too.
That was my loop.
I poured so much of my energy into being “the yes person.”
showing up. Smiling. Giving them beautiful hair and a conversation that might offer just a glimpse of hope or light.

It wasn’t their fault, but somewhere along the way, I had let my happiness hinge on others.
I had built a business around making sure everyone else was okay.

And I was burning out.

It wasn’t until a trip while working closely with my psychotherapist—that I saw the full picture.

We were peeling back old layers when a deep memory surfaced:
I was 14 when we lost our house.
Everything changed in an instant.
My sense of safety, stability, and home all shattered.

In that moment, I unknowingly made a vow:
Unconscious belief: Keep things stable even if it means losing yourself.

Which looked like: Make safe choices. Be what others need. Don’t rock the boat. Be the easy one.

That imprint shaped so much of what came next.

The way I showed up behind the chair.
The way I tried to fix things for everyone.
The way I tied my value to being helpful, needed, and endlessly available.

Even the relationship I was in and decided to stay in because of it was safe, steady and familiar. (another way survival creeped in to my decision making) [Read more: The Safe Relationship →]

And when that loop finally cracked open,
when I saw how I had been surviving through service...
everything began to shift.

I don’t regret any of it.
Hairstyling was my first initiation into healing.
It taught me about energy, empathy, and embodiment, long before I had the words for it.

It was never just about hair.
It was about transformation.
And through that mirror, I was learning how to see myself again, too.

If you’ve ever felt like you’ve been surviving by showing up for everyone but yourself—
I see you.
And I promise, there is a gentler way.
One where your worth isn’t earned through over giving, but remembered through slowing down.

✨ This is the work I do now, guiding others into the quiet, powerful space where truth emerges.

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