Stuck Between Dreams and Duty

Five years. That’s how long I’ve been building Integral—my business, my vision, my soul’s work. It’s not just an LLC or a title on LinkedIn. It’s the embodiment of who I want to be and the legacy I want to leave behind. I named it Integral because I wanted it to be essential. Unshakable. A name that would one day be synonymous with excellence. And yet, today, I’m the CEO of something I carry entirely on my back. A company of one.

I’m not just in the business—I am the business. I wear every hat, juggle every ball, pitch, post, network, strategize, create. I do all of it, often on fumes. I act like I’ve got something the world can’t miss, when sometimes I wonder if anyone’s really listening. I’ve poured everything I have into this—time, money, soul—and it’s still not enough. Integral doesn’t yet pay me enough to live. So I work two jobs. Sometimes three. All while keeping the illusion alive. All while being a mom. A wife. A human.

But here’s the truth: I still believe. I believe Integral can be bigger than me. Bigger than my burnout. Bigger than my fear. I imagine a day when people hear the name and immediately think: quality, impact, brilliance. I dream of a time when I can pay myself well. Build a real team. Surround myself with people who are smarter than me—who challenge me and our clients to go further, do better, be louder and more disruptive. Because at its core, Integral isn’t just about services. It’s about people. Vision. Genius. And that only comes with the right minds in the room. I want to build that room.

But right now? Right now I’m in survival mode.

One of my jobs—my second one—would’ve been my dream before I started Integral. Before the fire of entrepreneurship rewired my DNA. It’s at Doer/Maker, an agency that’s everything I once wanted: woman-led, remote, inclusive, purpose-driven. The kind of place I would’ve killed to be a part of back in the day. And the CEO is incredible. Charismatic. Supportive. Always sees me and celebrates me. Sometimes I wonder if it’s real—or if she’s just smart enough to know how to keep a high-performer like me going. I thrive on praise. She knows that. Am I being manipulated, or just finally appreciated?

I love my work there. I love what the company stands for. And I respect the hell out of her—she built something I aspire to: a thriving, million-dollar agency. Meanwhile, Integral is scraping by in the lower thousands annually. There’s no competition between us—only admiration and a quiet ache in my chest. Because every hour I give to Doer/Maker is one I’m not giving to my dream. My baby. The thing I built with bare hands and relentless faith. I feel torn—like I’m helping someone else’s dream soar while mine slowly slips through my fingers.

But I need the paycheck. And that reality keeps me locked in this balancing act between wants and needs, passion and pragmatism, vision and survival. I don’t know what the future holds. I only know I’m tired. Not of the work, but of the constant war inside me. I want to thrive. I want Integral to thrive. And I want to stop feeling like I'm losing pieces of myself just to keep all the plates spinning.

I’m stuck. But I’m still standing. Still fighting. Still believing.

And maybe that’s enough—for now.

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