One day, while I was doing nails for a regular customer, she asked—again—why I didn’t take clients in the evenings. I smiled and kept working. I was used to her complaints about my working hours. But this time, instead of explaining, I simply asked:
“Why should I work in the evening?”
She replied, “Because most people work during the day and only have time after work.”
“So?” I asked.
She continued, “Because you want more customers.”
“And why is that?”
“Because you need money,” she said, now clearly irritated.
“Really?” I asked again, “Why do I need more money?”
She went quiet. I think she got tired of my questions.
The truth is—I’ve always been a “why” person. Since I was a child. But somewhere along the way, I stopped asking. I started living the way I thought I was supposed to: finish school, go to university, get a job. I followed the path everyone else was on, without really knowing why.
What was different for me, though, was that I could never keep a job for more than two months. Not because I didn’t work hard—I did—but because I didn’t know how to “belong” in the system. I didn’t know how to build relationships with coworkers or play office politics. Eventually, I was pushed to build something of my own—and that’s when I discovered entrepreneurship was the right path for me.
But I didn’t find that truth easily. For years, I thought something was wrong with me. I read endless self-help books trying to fix myself so I could fit into the system. I felt like a failure because I couldn’t stay at a job like my friends did.
It took me a long time to understand: I wanted to work—I was even a workaholic. But I didn’t want to work for a title or a position. I wanted to create something meaningful. I wanted to know something so deeply that I could confidently share it with others when they asked.
When I opened my nail salon here, it was the same. I loved the art of it. I loved the beauty, the precision. And my clients could feel that—because when I work, I give it my full attention. The result was always perfect, just like the pictures on Instagram.
But once I became a mom of two, I chose to work only during school hours. I used to work all day, every day—building my portfolio, proving myself. But eventually, I had to make space for my children, my husband, and my health.
Even then, I reached burnout. Like many nail technicians, I was thankful for a full schedule—but the exhaustion was real. My fingers ached. My back was in constant pain. I couldn’t even sit through a family dinner. I didn’t care how much money I made. All I wanted was to run away.
And that’s when I finally stopped and asked myself:
Why am I doing this?
Why can’t I say no to bookings?
Why do I feel like I can’t stop?
My husband kept reminding me that we were financially okay. He told me I could take a break, and he would support me. But I just couldn’t. I felt trapped—like an addict who says, “I know it’s hurting me, but I can’t stop.”
It wasn’t until my body and my mind broke down together and told me, loud and clear: “We can’t do this anymore.” That’s when I finally sent the message to all my clients: I’m taking a break.
And in that space, I realized something important.
I wasn’t afraid of quitting the job—I was afraid of disappointing people.
I was afraid of being judged as lazy or weak.
I was afraid of the unknown, of “what if” something goes wrong and I need money.
But deeper than that, I realized:
I love working.
I love creating something I’m proud of.
I just don’t want to do it from a place of fear, pressure, or obligation.
I’m back to my business now and have created a new pricelist and policy as well as studied a new profession to add to my salon: skincare. I want to wake up excited about my work—not just rush through it so I can rest. I want work to bring me joy and purpose—not just income.
They say, “If you love what you do, you’ll never work a day in your life.”
And I used to think that was a cliché.
But now I understand—when your why is clear, work feels different.
And that, to me, is worth everything.
EMÉA - Beauty in Harmony 
Leave a comment