It’s Been A Year Working Solo — What I’ve Learned About The Business of Selfhood
I made the daring decision to go into business for myself nearly a year ago. It was easily one of the riskiest, and most fulfilling choices that I ever made. I recently had a conversation with someone who asked me about what’s been most challenging about transitioning to business ownership, and to be honest, for me it was understanding the relationship that I had with myself and the very definition of “work”.
In this post I’ll be reflecting on my pathway to business ownership, some lessons that I’ve learned during this first year, and how I was able to build upon my conceptualization of selfhood. This will be an opportunity for you to peek behind the curtain, and to join me and the many parts of myself that have made themselves known. My intention is to showcase that business ownership is not a linear process, and that everyone regardless of resources, knowledge, confidence, or expertise will eventually undergo a radical journey of self-exploration, uncovering, and remembering in ways that they may not have ever been able to predict.
My hope is that this reflection will offer someone the extra reminder that they aren’t alone, and that being a successful business owner is much more than just the revenue. As always, thank you for being here and for witnessing me.
The Balance Won’t Find Itself
Moving from a structured—or even semi-structured—environment into one you’ve created on your own quickly teaches you something: the balance between work and leisure doesn’t just appear. It has to be built, protected, and redefined as your business grows.
Even if you love what you do, it’s easy to slip into patterns of constant output, telling yourself you’ll rest “when things calm down.” But rest never arrives on its own. You have to decide where it belongs in your day, your week, and your life. That decision, especially in the early months, sets the tone for everything that follows.
If you start from a place of urgency, anxiety, or overwhelm, this is even more important. Ask yourself—without judgment—what’s driving your pace, and whether it’s truly serving you. For me, the turning point came when Homebody Psychotherapy was still just a name on a blank Canva template. I had to sit with myself and be honest about my immediate needs, my long-term vision, and what I was willing (and unwilling) to sacrifice to get there.
As someone who has had their share of workplace trauma, I had to pay close attention to how I moved through this process so that I wouldn’t repeat the harm that previous employees had already caused me. From this delicate approach emerged something that felt warm, and almost weightless. Which only inspired me to continue down this path more courageously.
Embrace the Pivot
One of the most freeing things I’ve learned this year is that my business doesn’t have to look the way I originally imagined. The goals, offerings, and systems I started with were necessary to get me moving, but they weren’t permanent.
I’ve pivoted—more than once—when something wasn’t aligned, when my capacity shifted, or when the work was asking to be expressed in a new way. Those pivots weren’t failures; they were signs of growth. They taught me to see flexibility not as a backup plan, but as a skill.
The truth is, every time I’ve allowed myself to change direction, the work has deepened. The services became clearer, the boundaries stronger, and my energy more sustainable. The pivot is where creativity often hides, waiting for permission to emerge.
I knew from the beginning that I didn’t want Homebody Psychotherapy to be just another run-of-the-mill therapy practice. What I wanted was something that was revolutionary, authentic, and supportive of my creativity. I’ve spent the last year or so changing course as the business and my body were building rapport with each other. I took pause when necessary, and pushed further when inspired, which allowed me to be fully immersed within the flow of it all. As I enter this phase of refinement, I’m feeling excited to see what continues to change and by what degree. And within that, finding the space to pause and admire what’s been created.
Clarity Doesn’t Need to Be Rushed
Early on, I felt pressure to define every detail. My mind was crowded with questions: “What is my niche? Who is my exact audience? Where do I see this business in five years?” With business ownership came the realization that I was now the one expected to have all the answers to the most urgent questions. I believed clarity was something I had to force into existence as quickly as possible, especially if I wanted to be taken seriously.
By the time I began building Homebody Psychotherapy, I had already endured more than my share of chaotic work environments. I knew exactly what it felt like to be out of control, and what it meant when my concerns and wellbeing weren’t valued enough to inspire change. The last thing I wanted was to recreate that dynamic for myself in the very business I was trying to grow.
In what I now call the “lull” between my end date at my last job and the approval of my PLLC paperwork, I made an intentional effort to pause. I mapped out my vision for Homebody Psychotherapy, outlined my immediate responsibilities, and noticed where confidence, insecurity, excitement, and restlessness were showing up. I realized that clarity wouldn’t come if I didn’t first acknowledge and manage the overwhelm.
Now I understand clarity is not always the starting point. More often it emerges through showing up, trying things, and learning in real time. My understanding of both my business and myself sharpened only after I gave myself space to experiment, make mistakes, and refine without constant self-judgment.
Clarity grows the way relationships do: through time, attention, and honest feedback. It cannot be rushed, and it doesn’t need to be.
Networking as Community
I’ve never liked the word “networking.” It feels transactional, like you’re collecting people instead of connecting with them. Over this past year, I’ve worked to reframe what networking means to me. Rather than treating it as an obligation, I’ve come to see it as a practice of community building. I’ve come to understand it as softer, more relational, and rooted in curiosity.
For me, this has looked like intentionally placing myself in spaces where connection can happen naturally. I joined listservs that aligned with my professional and creative interests, which opened the door to opportunities I wouldn’t have discovered otherwise. I made the effort to step outside of my comfort zone and attend events like Blavity Fest, where I was able to see myself reflected in a community of other Black creatives and entrepreneurs who were building something of their own.
At the same time, I started putting more intention into how I show up online. I decided to build a more visible social media presence, which has allowed me to share my vision more openly and create a space for people to find me, not just the other way around. Through this, I’ve learned that presence itself is a form of connection.
None of this has come naturally to me. I’ve had to push past my own shyness, the part of me that was worried that he wouldn’t be able to measure up. Instead, I’ve practiced reaching out, introducing myself, and allowing myself to be seen. Some of the people I’ve met have become collaborators, thought partners, and, in some cases, dear friends.
Community building, I’ve realized, is not about keeping score or collecting business cards. It’s about weaving yourself into a larger fabric, showing up with generosity, and trusting that reciprocity will come in its own way and time.
The Work Speaks For Itself. But Do They Understand It’s Language?
Doing great work is one thing. Making sure people understand that work—why it matters, who it’s for, and what it offers—is another. I’ve learned that part of my role as a business owner is to be a translator for my own vision.
That means refining how I talk about my services, the problems I help solve, and the impact I aim to have. It’s not about shrinking the work to make it palatable; it’s about finding language that invites people in, especially those who may not yet have the words for what they’re seeking.
I’ve always admired how other social workers and therapists who have branched out into other fields have found ways to translate their work to others who never would’ve even thought about it. As my vision becomes more clear, this is something that I want to practice further.
Conclusion
What I’ve learned is that running a business is inseparable from the work of knowing and honoring yourself. Every decision — from when to pivot, to how to rest, to who you invite into your community — reflects the relationship you’re building with your own voice and vision. The first year of Homebody Psychotherapy reminded me that selfhood is not a static destination but a living, shifting practice, one that shapes how the business grows and how I grow alongside it. To me, this is the business of selfhood: the daily act of returning to yourself, listening closely, and choosing to build something sustainable from that place of truth.
Keanu M. Jackson, LCSW (he/him)
Keanu is a New York–based consultant, facilitator, and licensed psychotherapist with expertise in anti-racism, organizational culture, and mental health strategy. Through his consulting practice, he partners with mission-driven teams to build more liberatory, care-centered workplaces rooted in psychological safety, equity, and accountability.
Learn more at keanumjackson.com.
