This career did not break me. It built me.

Ever since I started in the beauty industry, I’ve felt deeply about one thing:

It is an absolute pleasure to serve people.

I have never looked down on being in a serving position. I’ve never felt small because my job is to take care of someone. If anything, I’ve always felt the opposite. I think it’s an honor to be trusted with someone’s appearance, their confidence, their time, their stories. I think it should be treated as an honor.

Recently, I shared that sentiment publicly.

A lot of people agreed.

And a lot of people strongly disagreed.

Some shared that this industry has taken so much from them - physically, mentally, emotionally. That they are in pain. That they are burned out. That they have over-accommodated to the point where they feel like there’s nothing left inside of them. That serving no longer feels like an honor, it feels like depletion.

And I can understand why my words could hit wrong if someone is in that place.

Burnout distorts everything.

But the one thing I’ve always believed - and this isn’t always easy to hear - is that ownership and accountability are the two most powerful forces in our lives.

Not just in business.

Not just behind the chair.

In everything.

When I look at any area of my life - my finances, my health, my relationships, my business - the thing that makes or breaks it is whether I’m willing to take ownership.

Blame is seductive. It feels relieving. It gives us something external to point at. “The industry did this.” “The clients did this.” “The salon did this.”

But for me, this industry gave me everything.

It gave me the financial security to leave a relationship and get a divorce.

It allowed me to help both of my parents through their illnesses and assist with funeral costs.

It gave me the ability to live on my own, buy a car, and stand on my own two feet.

It put me in a position where I wanted a man in my life - not needed one.

That is not something I take lightly.

This career did not break me. It built me.

But that didn’t happen by accident.

If I had continued working the way I was working 12 years ago - ignoring my body, eating like crap, not sleeping, running on fumes - I would probably be singing the same song as the people who feel resentful and exhausted.

There was a turning point.

When I started addressing the basics:

Eating enough.

Hydrating.

Sleeping.

Strength training.

Moving daily.

Resting intentionally.

Simple things. Not glamorous things.

But when I started taking care of my body, everything changed.

I didn’t feel weak behind the chair.

I didn’t feel physically fragile.

I didn’t feel like my job was attacking me.

I felt capable.

And that capability bled into everything else.

If I could take control of my physical health, what else could I take control of?

If I could change that, what else was within my power?

What other areas of my life needed my attention?

Ownership became empowering instead of overwhelming.

And that’s the part I think is missing in a lot of conversations in our industry.

Yes, burnout is real.

Yes, physical pain is real.

Yes, emotional exhaustion is real.

But so is our ability to change our circumstances.

Serving people is not the problem.

Being under-fueled, under-rested, physically weak, emotionally overextended, and boundary-less is the problem.

And those are things we can work on.

I am always open to discussion. I’m not interested in arguing. I’m interested in growth. I’m interested in longevity. I’m interested in helping people feel strong enough - physically and emotionally - that serving feels like an honor again, not a burden.

Because when done the right way, this career won’t break you down.

It can build you up.

It built me.

And I will always be grateful for that.

-Jenny xx