I Thought Everyone Would Think I Was a Failure
The Rise (and Fall) of My Boutique Catering Company - PART SIX
The clarity fairies had finally found me.
On Mother’s Day 2024, I dared to admit that Maven Oak was going to close at the end of the year. From the outside, Maven Oak looked like a dream job— just hanging around mountains of cheese all day; what's wrong with that? Trying to explain why I was walking away from a dream felt like a conversation I wasn’t ready to have. Too many dark emotional crevices I wasn’t ready to crawl into yet. So I kept quiet for months.
The spiders eventually started to creep out of the cracks, and for my own sanity, I confided in my BFF — the most supportive person on the planet. She said all the right things, validated my choices, and asked nothing in return. I was dreading the judgment that might come from others and wreak havoc on my nervous system (worst-case scenario); everyone else would have to wait until I could get it together.
I hate to admit I care what people think — but with this, I did. I didn’t want people to think I was a failure. More importantly, I didn’t want to think of myself as one. I see shit through. So what would it mean if I stopped? Would all the years of hard work and determination get flipped on their head?
How long do you have to do something before you can walk away and not be labeled a quitter? 1 year, 3 years, a lifetime?
I would not let myself be chained to cheese forever. But walking away meant being rock solid in my choices and firmly standing behind them — no matter what anyone thought or said. I had to cook up a whole pot of conviction stew, perfectly salted and piping hot, topped with cheese, naturally.
I would eat my stew and spill the tea about my decision to close Maven Oak. It was my story to tell, but I had no control over how it was interpreted. The possibilities sizzled in my head like being spattered with zings of hot oil. Why would she give up on this dream job? You just started? But you’re so good at it? What a waste of time. What are you going to do instead? What, you don’t like cheese anymore?
All these judgements were MY thoughts, because I had only told one person and she didn’t say anything close to the negativity that was being dolled out from my own brain (f*king rat). It was up to me to decide what closing Maven Oak meant and let that be that. I was in charge of how I felt about the whole situation, and I better have an afternoon tea sesh with my brain so we could be on the same page and show up as a united front.
The physical ending of Maven Oak was quiet. I did not throw a party. I didn’t celebrate or grieve. I had already built the next thing while Maven Oak was still running. So when the door closed, I walked through the one I had already opened.
I could call myself a failure or chalk it up to experience. No matter which label I chose, it was up to me. I had learned so much about business and myself. I had truly built something I was proud of.
$300,000+ in sales.
40+ weddings.
More platters than I can count.
I wonder how much cheese I went through…
Lots of memories. Lots of mistakes. Lots of lessons learned.
I decided that not a single day spent amongst the cheese was time wasted.
I never would have predicted where I would end up when I was sitting on my couch in 2019, desperate not to have to write a resume. But I wouldn't change it — I dared to show up, and that was the best thing I could have done for myself.
In October 2024, I finally said it out loud. I told Bitters Lab and my mom — the two women who had cheered Maven Oak on from the very beginning. There were tears. There was also sweet, sweet relief.
The secret was out and my community needed to know, so they could get all their cheese affairs in order. The announcement was made, and I did my very best not to let the comments get me down and stood confident and proud in my decision.
The judgment came, but not in droves; mostly in curiosity about what I would do next. The failure judgment had been in my head the whole time.
It really wasn’t about other people; it was about me (and the rat) being okay with my choices. I looked in the mirror and asked the rat what he thought one last time. He conceded. I was free.
Cheers,
Nicole | Butter Cult🧈
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