A Day in the Life of a Solo Founder

I’m not entirely sure why I chose the entrepreneurial path—the uncertain, unpredictable, often exhausting path. But after several years of ups and downs, one thing is clear: I haven’t quit. I’m still here.

Tonight, I’m writing my very first blog. It reminds me of the time I decided to leave my corporate job. I wouldn’t say I had a truly stable or comfortable career—those were still the early years—but compared to running a business, life back then felt more predictable. Maybe the grass really did look greener on the other side. I thought I was young. I thought I had time. So I took the leap.

Now, I wake up every day as the founder of Inner Beauty Gifts, a brand built around hand-painted glass ornaments—and I do everything myself. From finding sales reps, answering emails, and keeping the books, to receiving overseas shipments, building a brand, and trying to market it—I swing from inspired to overwhelmed, often within the same hour.

This post isn’t a how-to or a guide. It’s just me, telling the truth about what it feels like to build a business from scratch. If you’ve ever been curious what it’s like behind the scenes—or if you’re in it yourself—this is for you.

The Story So Far

I didn’t grow up dreaming of starting a business. For most of my adult life, I followed the path I was “supposed” to take—education, a stable job. But over time, the days started to feel repetitive. Uneventful. I found myself wondering: Is there something else I want to try? Maybe something I’d be proud to talk about when I’m older.

I wanted to build something that reflected my values. Something meaningful.

Leaving my corporate job wasn’t a decision I made lightly. I couldn’t even imagine what I was getting myself into—but I knew I needed to try.

Inner Beauty Gifts began as a quiet idea, sparked by a small moment. I remembered bringing a few traditional folk gifts in my luggage when I first came to the U.S.—unique pieces that represented my culture. I thought, Maybe one day I’ll gift them to someone who’s never seen anything like this—something unforgettable. That’s when I discovered the artistry of reverse hand-painted glass snuff bottles. Each one told a story. Each one was full of care, tradition, and intricate detail—unlike anything mass-produced.

I wondered: Why does it have to be a snuff bottle? Could this kind of craftsmanship live in another form—maybe in glass ornaments?

That question became the seed of my business. I started paying attention to the gift market and found reverse hand-painted glass ornaments already existed—but they lacked the quality and heart I imagined. The painting was often crude, the boxes poorly made. Yet, I realized: People are buying them. There's a place for this.

With help from close family friends overseas, I found skilled artisans. Eventually, those friends became my production partners—supervising, sourcing, and overseeing quality control. Meanwhile, I searched for the right artwork, packed each order myself, and emailed store owners one by one. No big launch. No PR. No viral moment. Just a quiet vision: that people would want to give a beautiful, meaningful gift.

There have been moments of joy—like reading a heartfelt customer review, hearing someone gave an ornament to their mother, or seeing a wholesale order come in from a store I admire. But there have also been moments of doubt: slow sales, expensive shipping, tech issues, and the constant exhaustion of wearing every hat.

Still, I keep coming back to why I started: to build something beautiful, lasting, and personal. A business rooted in thoughtful giving—sentimental, story-filled, and full of heart.

The Daily Struggles

Most people see the final product—a beautiful ornament in a gift box—and think, How lovely! But what they don’t see is everything it took to get it there.

Some days, it feels like I’m working three jobs at once: creator, marketer, and customer service team. I wake up thinking about inventory or whether a shipment cleared customs. Then I spend hours fixing product listings, replying to emails, and checking Shopify and Amazon for errors I didn’t cause but now need to solve. Sometimes I write marketing copy in my head while doing the dishes or walking through the grocery store.

There’s no team to hand things off to. If I don’t do it, it doesn’t get done. And that pressure—while empowering—can also feel like a weight that never lifts.

I’ve had days where I felt proud of the brand I’m building, and then hours later, felt completely defeated because an ad didn’t work, a box got damaged in transit, or a customer left a confusing review. I’ve spent hours trying to learn new software, only to get stuck. Or stared at my to-do list wondering which of the 17 “urgent” tasks to start first.

There’s also a quiet kind of loneliness that comes with doing this solo. No one to brainstorm with over coffee. No team huddles. Just me, trying to figure out how to grow a business while staying sane.

People say entrepreneurship is about freedom, and that’s partly true. But it’s also about responsibility. I carry it all—finances, vision, and the belief that somehow, this will all be worth it.

And yet, in the middle of the chaos, there’s meaning. There’s a moment when someone says, “This made my mother cry—in the best way.” Or when a new wholesale buyer places an order because they “fell in love with the story.”

It doesn’t erase the hard parts. But it reminds me that they’re not the whole story.

What Keeps Me Going

What keeps me going isn’t a big vision board or a five-year business plan. It’s the small moments.

It’s when someone tells me that one of my ornaments reminded them of their late grandmother. It’s when I see someone pause at a craft show, pick up a piece, and say, “This is so beautiful—it feels like it has a soul.” It’s when a store reorders not because they need more inventory, but because customers asked for it by name.

Those are the moments that make the long days worth it.

I didn’t build Inner Beauty Gifts to chase trends or make quick sales. I built it to honor stories—yours, mine, the ones we gift to others. And even on days when I question everything, that original purpose is still there. Quiet, but steady.

And I remind myself: it’s okay to build slowly. It’s okay to grow quietly. What matters is that it’s meaningful and that it’s mine.

This isn’t the easiest path—but it’s the one that keeps me growing. Not just as a business owner but as a person. And somehow, that feels like the kind of success I wouldn’t trade for anything.

A Note to You

If you’ve made it this far—thank you for reading. I didn’t write this to give advice or pretend I have it all figured out. I wrote it to tell the truth.

This founder’s notebook is a space for me to share the real journey—what it’s like to build something from scratch, alone, with heart and hope (and sometimes, tears). Maybe you’re on a similar path. Maybe you're just curious. Either way, I’m glad you're here.

I’ll be writing more entries like this—honest reflections from behind the scenes. If something here resonated with you, feel free to leave a comment, send a note, or just come back and read the next one.

Because no matter where we are on our paths, a little connection goes a long way.