When I started Imaginary Friends Design Studios back in 2002, I had a creative itch, a little bit of stubbornness, and a lot of hope that if I just worked hard enough, delivered a great product, people would come and everything would work out. I dove in, took on every job I could, and convinced myself that “making it” meant keeping the lights on and surviving from month to month. Year after year, I poured my energy into serving clients, building a reputation, and trying to do things the “right” way; at least, as I understood it then.
But what I didn’t realize was that I’d trapped myself in the classic struggling artist mentality. I believed that sacrificing my own pay was noble, so I paid myself last, only after everyone and everything else was covered. I got creative with my accounting, writing off every little thing, thinking it was smart business. All the while, I quietly accepted that struggle was just part of the deal for creatives in business, especially in a small, rural town like Yuma.
As my company grew, I started hiring employees. That added a new layer of pressure and responsibility. Suddenly, other people’s livelihoods depended on me getting it right. But I was still stuck in the same old patterns: underpricing our work, saying yes to everything, and believing that scraping by was good enough as long as everyone got paid and the doors stayed open.
Looking back, it’s obvious now; I wasn’t running a business; I was just running. The hardest part wasn’t the hours or the workload; it was breaking out of my own mindset. For so long, I equated busy-ness with progress and equated struggle with authenticity.
It took two decades, and a lot of failures, for me to finally face the truth: I wasn’t valuing my own expertise or the unique strengths of my team. We had national recognition, a body of creative work that could stand against any big-city agency, and yet I was pricing us like we were a side hustle. I wasn’t giving my team or myself the resources or respect we deserved.
The breakthrough came in 2023, when I decided to bring in a mentor whose book had really struck a chord with me. It was the first time I’d truly invested in outside guidance. Working with him, I realized that my role wasn’t just about fulfilling client requests, it was about understanding their deeper needs and positioning our services as genuine solutions. I had to learn to speak the language of value, not just deliverables.
That mindset shift changed everything. We stopped just being order-takers and started approaching each project with curiosity: What would really help this client grow? What could we suggest that they hadn’t even thought of yet? I began to offer packages instead of just a list of services, showing clients how our expertise could help them in ways they hadn’t considered. It took guts to raise prices and risk hearing “no,” but the clients who valued what we brought to the table stuck with us; and our work with them became more rewarding for both sides.
It wasn’t just about numbers and proposals, though. I realized that building a business was about building a culture, too. For years, it was all work, all the time; no time or energy left for anything else. But when I started organizing quarterly outings with my team, something shifted. We got to know each other outside the office. We laughed, swapped stories, and built genuine connections. The effect on our teamwork, creativity, and day-to-day morale was immediate and profound.
Through all this, the single biggest lesson I wish I’d learned sooner was simple: Pay yourself first. If you’re not taking care of yourself, you can’t take care of your team or your clients. Like the flight attendants say—put your own oxygen mask on first. That lesson took me over two decades to truly understand. Now, I make sure my own needs are covered, which has given me the confidence and stability to lead my team more effectively.
After all those years of stress—of worrying about making payroll, scrambling to cover bills, and feeling like the business owned me; I finally reached a place where I could breathe. The first year we turned a real profit, I felt a freedom I hadn’t known since starting this whole journey. I was more relaxed. I found myself enjoying work again. I had more time and energy for my family, my hobbies, and for the big-picture thinking that actually helps a business grow.
It took 22 years of failing before I had a year of true success. That success wasn’t just measured in dollars, but in mindset, relationships, and the sense of purpose that comes from doing what I love the right way. If you’re out there grinding away, my advice is this: focus on what you do best, price your services for the value you bring, invest in yourself, and build a culture that makes you (and your team) want to show up every day. Success might take longer than you expect, but when it comes, it’s worth every lesson along the way.