It’s just that when something is really shitty and I want to feel less bad about it, I think of what it’s taught me. Maybe it’s toxic positivity, maybe it’s optimism, but knowledge can never be taken away from me.

As I passed by each day, I’d wonder what types of rocks people brought in and their reasons for doing so. Maybe it was a special rock their kid found, or maybe it was a large rock that really tied their landscaping together. Maybe it was a souvenir rock that they picked up on a vacation.

It did take better pictures, but a fancier digital camera didn’t automatically make my pictures great—or even good.

For some reason, I feel like this is the most grown-up, business-y thing I’ve ever done.

In Whatcom County, we were surrounded by the outdoors. We had traded in our pool towels for crab pots, our swim floaties for camping gear, our smoked meat cravings for cold lagers in the local beer gardens.

Since I launched my business, I have been thinking a lot about what sets my product apart. As I pour hot wax into countless glass jars, I go back and forth--a tipping scale with each side going up and down as I compare myself to others.

There is always something to do—and the best part is I can jump around as much as I want. I’m trying to incorporate one of those tri-fold science fair displays, but so far, no luck.

I've added in therapy, Reddit, and books. A wide variety of medicines, too. Hundreds of hours and thousands of dollars spent on talk therapy and Exposure Response Prevention (the "gold standard" for OCD treatment).

I enjoy the puzzle, and I like it when I can solve one portion of it. I like the curve balls. I like the chaos.

I wasn’t a fool, though. I knew I had to entice--and subsequently hook--my new customers. So I offered them introductory deals of merchandise at cost.