Two things can be true.

We closed our business AND consider it a success.

Two things can be true

When we closed Well Crafted, we shared a message with our Pizza Pals:

I remember agonizing over every sentence. Not because we weren’t confident in our decision. We were. It was hard because we didn’t know how to explain something that so few people talk about: quitting.

Closing something that is good is incredibly hard.

We weren’t forced to close because we couldn’t pay our bills. We weren’t battling broken partnerships or friendships. In fact, we were in a remarkably fortunate position. We had built a successful business with people we loved, serving a community we adored, and we were able to make the decision on our own terms.

Looking back, I realize what a gift that was.

But can I tell you how hard it is to explain to people that you chose to walk away from something successful?

In our culture, quitting rarely gets a good reputation. We’re taught to finish what we start. To push through. To sacrifice ourselves for the mission. If something is working - and especially if it’s making money- of course you keep going.

Right?

A few months after we closed, I was meeting with one of my favorite people that Well Crafted brought into our lives (there are so many of you I still think about regularly!), and she handed me a copy of Quit: The Power of Knowing When to Walk Away by Annie Duke. (Highly recommend!)

It felt like permission. We talked about how taboo quitting feels and how rarely we celebrate people who have the courage to recognize that something has served its purpose.

Even as I write those words, part of me resists them. It is just so far from our cultural norms. Celebrate quitting? As an achiever, that feels almost impossible to say out loud. As a parent, maybe even harder.

For me, ending Well Crafted wasn’t giving up. It was making room. There were many reasons the four of us made the decision to close, and each owner came to that decision in their own way and on their own timeline. For me, it came down to a simple realization: I wasn’t showing up as the person I wanted to be in any area of my life. At the time, our kids were two and four.

For years I had believed one of the most common promises of entrepreneurship: You’ll have freedom. You’ll control your own schedule. There is a tiny bit of truth to that. But for me, that promise always left me disappointed. Owning a business- especially a restaurant with catering, employees, and constant moving pieces- never really turns off.

It wasn’t just the hours. It was the mental load. The responsibility. The weight of knowing that even when you leave work, work doesn’t really leave you.

Here’s the funny part... 1,357 days after we closed Well Crafted, I still can’t walk into a restaurant without noticing the flow of the kitchen, the staffing, the operations, the experience of the customers, and the demands on their team.

Once a business owner, always a business owner. It’s a gift... right? 😉

Looking back now, one of the things I am most grateful for isn’t that we built a successful business, it’s that we gave ourselves permission to leave it.

Because here’s what I’ve learned: Two things can be true.

You can deeply love what you’ve built...
and know it’s time to let it go.

You can be proud of something...
and still choose a different path.

You can miss it...
and never want to go back.

Since closing Well Crafted, my life has been filled with recalibrating priorities, rediscovering my voice, learning who I am outside of what I produce, and becoming more present for the people I love most.

I don’t know that I would have found this version of myself had I kept holding on.

So maybe this is what I really want to say:

I am here to cheer you on and honor endings that deserve to be celebrated. Not every chapter is meant to last forever. I truly believe that sometimes success is having the wisdom - and the courage - to know when the story has reached its natural ending.

I’m incredibly proud of what Well Crafted was. I’m equally proud that we knew when it was time to close the door. AND at the same time, I sure do miss so much of it (including the pizza ;) ).