We’ve crawled out of the holiday madness. The kitchen is a little clearer, there’s finally space on the dining table, and for the first time in weeks, things feel just quiet enough to pause.
In that pause, I realized I’m in uncharted territory.
Four months ago, I left my high-paying corporate role at Mastercard to build Butter + Bow full-time, a dream I’ve carried for decades. Until now, there hadn’t been much space to sit with what that really meant. As this year begins, I found myself returning to a familiar practice I’ve kept for years: choosing a single word to guide me.
In 2025, that word was unapologetic.
When I chose it, I imagined small shifts. More confidence. Less second-guessing. Maybe better boundaries. Instead, it asked for something much bigger.
Being unapologetic meant launching Butter + Bow as a values-driven, founder-led brand. It meant asking for the sale, showing up and telling our story again and again. Choosing visibility even when it felt uncomfortable, or even cringe. It meant trusting my taste and point of view enough to stop shrinking or over-explaining in order to be accepted.
What surprised me most was how much becoming more of myself changed what was possible.
That decision turned into more than 2,400 transactions, across farmers markets, online orders, and corporate gifting. It opened doors to working with 23 corporate clients, from large organizations to small businesses and local realtors. It brought validation I didn’t realize I was still craving, from people who remembered us and came back market after market, to being featured in Westchester Magazine’s Holiday Gift Guide, to thoughtful notes that caught me off guard.
It also gave me permission to build in a way that reflected my values. Supporting Feeding Westchester through the Change a Life Cookie. Donating to community causes. Partnering with our elementary school’s PTA. Choosing collaboration over competition, especially with other women founders who believe we’re better when we support one another.
And then there’s the part that’s hardest to measure.
Letting my children see what entrepreneurship actually looks like. Not just the wins, but the tradeoffs. Early mornings for markets. The disappointment when weekends mean work. Learning that those incredible-smelling cookies aren’t for eating because they’re meant for customers.
There are moments that stay with me. My son asking whether we had a good day at the farmers market and wanting to look at our Shopify analytics. My daughter yelling across a grocery store aisle, completely unprompted, “Our company is Butter + Bow.” Through these moments, work isn’t abstract anymore. They can see how effort takes shape and turns into something real.
As this year gets underway, my word is believe.
Because the questions don’t stop. Big, strategic ones. Small, practical ones. How much to make. What to prioritize. Whether to sign up for another market or focus elsewhere. Even whether a recipe needs 25 grams of matcha or 30.
None of these decisions feel dramatic on their own, but they stack up. And underneath them is the same quiet question: Is this actually going to work?
Looking back on the holidays, I noticed how often doubt had shaped my decisions. I ordered conservatively, afraid of believing too much, only to sell through faster than expected and scramble in the other direction.
Belief, for me now, isn’t certainty. It’s a practice. Choosing to trust the process more than the fear. Preparing as if success is possible. Trusting that even when we don’t get it exactly right, we know how to adjust, pivot, and keep going.
It’s also choosing to really listen when people tell us they love what we’re building, to let that support land and guide what comes next.
Butter + Bow exists to create beautiful experiences that make people feel seen, and to remind us that in a world moving faster and more digitally than ever, real human connection matters.
This no longer feels like something I’m building alone. It feels shared. And that makes all the difference.
If you made it to the end, thank you. I’m really glad you’re here.