I almost Didn’t…
How I Almost Gave Up on Entrepreneurship…
It’s not glamorous to talk about wanting to quit.
Especially not when you’re a business owner.
Especially not when you’re a branding specialist. The very person helping other people show up, stay consistent, and keep going.
Especially not when your business is built on story and identity and heart.
But that’s exactly why I’m going to talk about it.
There was a moment… Not a dramatic one, not a Hollywood breakdown. But rather a quiet, exhausted, deeply real moment where I thought:
“I can’t do this anymore.”
The Burnout No One Sees
On the outside, Angell Designs was doing well.
I had clients. I had income. I even had praise.
I had momentum.
But inside, I was running on fumes. And not the creative kind.
I was in a cycle of deliver-deliver-deliver. Without rest. Without recovery. Without reconnection to my why. I was creating for others but had stopped creating from myself.
And somewhere between late-night Canva files and the 17th “just checking in” email, something cracked.
Not loudly. Not publicly. But quietly. Subtly. Slowly.
Until one morning I looked at my laptop, the one I’d used to build this whole beautiful thing, and thought:
“I hate this. I want to burn it all down.”
When Doubt Creeps In
Burnout doesn’t just drain your energy. It starts to rewrite your narrative.
I started questioning everything.
What if I’m not actually good at this?
What if I’ve built the wrong business?
What if I’m just making noise in an already loud world?
What if I never feel inspired again?
The doubts weren’t logical. But they were loud. And for a while, they drowned out the quiet truth I’d build this business on:
That branding (when done well) isn’t just about business.
It’s about belonging.
As a chronically ill, neurodivergent entrepreneur, the world of business has never been designed for people like me.
There are seasons where energy is rationed like medicine. Where executive function disappears for days. Where showing up online feels like peeling off your skin.
And yet, I had built a business where I was expected to show up anyway. On Instagram, in emails, in creative outputs. Everyday, for everyone else.
I was doing what I loved. But I had built it in a way that was slowly suffocating me.
My Moment of Decision.
The day I nearly quit wasn’t explosive. It was just…
Empty.
I stared at a half-finished proposal. I stared at my task list. I stared at the story I’d written about being a “resilient business owner.”
And then I closed the laptop and literally walked away.
I didn’t have a plan. I just knew I couldn’t go back to this. Not like this.
But here’s what happened in that space: Silence gave way to clarity.
Why I Stayed
What pulled me back wasn’t strategy. It wasn’t ambition. It wasn’t guilt.
It was the quiet but firm knowing:
I don’t want people like me to continue falling through the cracks.
I’ve been there.
Invisible systems that don’t account for complexity. Misunderstood in spaces that prioritise polish over pain. Burnt out by the expectation to be palatable, predictable, perfect.
But my clients?
They’re the ones doing the work to make things better: coaches, therapists, advocates, creatives, wellness professionals, educators. People who care deeply.
And many of them are just like me:
Neurodivergent. Disabled. Queer. Burnt out.
Trying to help others while barely holding on themselves.
I realised:
If I could help people find their people through branding, through story, through presence, then fewer people would fall through those cracks.
If I could use my skills to help them become visible, they could build system that made others feel seen.
That’s why I stayed.
Rebuilding the Business (And Myself)
I didn’t come back to business the same.
I came back slower. More honest. More boundaries. More myself.
I changed the way I worked. I let go of “shoulds” and leaned into capacity.
I stopped branding for perfection and started branding for real people.
I stopped designing around what looked good and started designing around what felt safe for both me and for my clients.
Because if the way you’ve built your business is burning you out, it’s okay to tear it down. Not because you’ve failed but because you’re ready to build something truer.
It’s okay to want to quit.
It doesn’t make you weak. It doesn’t make you a bad business owner. It makes you human.
And if you’re in that place right now? Where everything feels heavy? Where doubt is louder than purpose? Where quitting feels like relief? I want you to know this:
Maybe what you need isn’t to walk away from your dream.
Maybe what you need is to walk away from the version of your dream that’s hurting you.
You can come back.
You can rebuild.
You can do it differently.
I did.
And I’m still here helping others like me find their voice, their place, their people.
Not because I never wanted to give up.
But because I actually did.
And I came back on my own terms.
