When It’s Time to Let Go: What My Educator Experience Taught Me

When It’s Time to Let Go: What My Educator Experience Taught Me

In early 2023, I was focused on my own path—hosting classes, building resources for new artists, and creating events from my salon space. Things were flowing, and I felt excited about the direction I was headed.

Around that time, a brand I had been affiliated with reached out. The owner asked to connect, just to check in. I had always respected the brand and was genuinely flattered to be noticed. What started as a casual conversation turned into an opportunity to do more. And I was open to it. I had always believed in supporting brands I loved, and I saw potential for long-term growth.

As the relationship evolved, I stepped into an educator role. I gave it my full energy and commitment. Loyalty is something I don’t take lightly, and I truly wanted to contribute to the brand’s success.

Over time, though, I started feeling off. There were mixed messages—being told to rest and not overextend myself, but also being reminded how important it was to show up and stay visible. I was doing a lot of behind-the-scenes work, some of it unpaid, while also managing the demands of my own business. I started to feel stretched, and honestly, confused.

The more I tried to bring questions to the table, the less I felt heard. Eventually, I realized the version of myself I was becoming in that role didn’t feel like me anymore. So in July 2024, I made the decision to step away.

It wasn’t a dramatic exit—there was no fight, no one specific thing. Just a slow unraveling of clarity that led me to do what felt right. I sent a kind, professional email. I even offered to finish out an upcoming class I had helped plan. But ultimately, I was let go from everything, and that class moved forward without me.

I still showed up at the brand’s booth during the Expo that fall, as I had committed to. I helped set up, supported the team at the booth, and packed up afterward. I avoided anything extra they offered—paid for my own hotel and kept things simple. It was my way of closing the chapter respectfully.

What I didn’t expect was how much that chapter would linger emotionally. The silence that followed was loud. I had questions I didn’t feel safe asking, feelings I didn’t fully know how to process. I wasn’t looking to be dramatic—I just wanted clarity, or maybe even quiet understanding.

The hardest part was realizing I wasn’t alone, but that many others didn’t feel ready—or able—to speak up. Some still worked with the brand. Some had moved on quietly. I respect every person’s decision to do what’s best for them. But it showed me something deeper: the beauty industry doesn’t always make space for difficult conversations, especially when they challenge power dynamics or leadership styles.

I’m not here to cancel anyone or call out names. That’s not the purpose of this. We’re all human, we’re all learning, and I truly believe most people are doing the best they can with the tools they have.

But I do believe this: not all leadership is healthy, and not all mentorship is rooted in mutual respect. Sometimes, the red flags are subtle—mixed messages, avoidance, unclear expectations, or feeling like your voice doesn’t matter. And sometimes, staying too long can cost you more than just time—it can chip away at your confidence.

I learned so much from that season. About boundaries. About communication. About what I truly need in any collaboration. And I’m grateful for those lessons—even if they came through discomfort.

If you’re in a space right now where things feel off, where you’re shrinking more than you’re growing, I hope this reminds you that it’s okay to choose yourself. It’s okay to walk away, even if it’s quiet. Even if no one else understands it yet.

You’re not disloyal for honoring your limits. You’re not ungrateful for wanting clarity. And you’re not alone for needing to leave something that no longer fits.

The beauty industry is full of passion, creativity, and big dreams—but it still needs more accountability, better leadership, and spaces where artists feel safe to speak honestly. That’s why I choose to show up differently now. I don’t have all the answers, but I do have the experience. And I hope sharing mine helps someone else feel seen, too.