From Burnout to Bloom: My Lavender Story

The Burnout

My journey to create True Lavender Collective didn’t begin in a lavender field — it began with a decision to walk away from a career that was no longer survivable.

Prefer the short version? Jump to it here. 

By year seven of my eight years at Amazon Web Services, something had quietly but completely broken.

On paper, I had what many people would call a dream job. I was an experienced, trusted senior manager who helped build a rockstar team and a system with meaningful impact to the business. But inside, there was nothing left that made me smile. No sense of pride after a job well done. No spark. Just exhaustion layered on top of responsibility layered on top of expectations that no longer felt humanly possible.

I was doing the work of multiple people, holding systems and processes together that were being pulled apart into silos faster than I could keep up.  What I had helped build was changing, and I could no longer hold all the pieces together no matter how hard I tried.

I cried at night until I could barely breathe. Walking into the office building triggered a visceral reaction in my body.  For years, I tried to imagine what might come next. Every time, my mind went blank. I scoured job postings, hoping for a spark. Nothing. Just white space. 

I was deeply depressed. Operating in constant fight-or-flight at work.  Anxiety was impacting my ability to make decisions and trust my own mind, pulling me into looping thoughts and relentless what-ifs that made everyday life feel unsafe.

Perhaps the most final realization of all was this: if I didn’t choose myself, no one else was going to.  I had to save me and chase my smile again. 

At the time, I didn’t know I was stepping toward lavender. I only knew I had to step away from something that was slowly erasing me.

Lavender, and the Question

My love for lavender began years earlier, after relocating to Seattle in 2011. I discovered lavender farms across the Pacific Northwest and became a devoted customer of a San Juan Island farm called Pelindaba Lavender, one of the largest certified organic lavender farms in the world.

In August 2016, my sister and I visited the farm in person. I still remember a sign outside the Gatehouse store that read “Join the Lavender Adventure,” an invitation to inquire about owning a Pelindaba Lavender franchise.

I scoffed.

“That’s a dream for my next life,” I thought, and tucked the idea away.

Two years later, on a road trip through Idaho with my dog, that moment resurfaced. Somewhere between long stretches of highway and quiet reflection, one question appeared and refused to let go:

Why does that have to be a dream? Why couldn’t I do that in this lifetime?

The weight of that question landed hard. I had to be honest with myself: what was holding me back was Ego. Status. Money. Fear.

By then, I had spent nearly fifteen years in the high-tech industry, living in big cities, earning six-figure salaries, bonuses, and stock options. Could I really step off that ledge and choose something drastically different?

Spoiler alert: I did.

For more than a decade, I had carried a quiet, unspoken desire to own a retail store. Whenever I wandered into beautifully curated gift shops in towns like Gig Harbor, Bainbridge, or La Conner, I lingered. I imagined thoughtfully displaying products, shaping an experience, creating a space people loved to visit and share. A store that felt beautiful and calm. One where locals wanted to work. One people returned to, again and again.

Pelindaba Lavender stores embodied that feeling for me. They weren’t just shops, they were experiences. Grounded, sensory, welcoming, and educational with a breadth of lavender products I had never seen before.

When I finally allowed myself to ask what if, lavender was the only answer that arose out of my brain’s white space.  It wasn’t safe or obvious (quite the contrary!), but it was the only path that sparked anything resembling excitement.

I sent the email to inquire about joining “the lavender adventure.”

In truth, I was putting all my eggs in one basket.  I didn’t have a backup plan because nothing else stirred any interest at all.  What scared me most wasn’t betting on lavender, but the possibility that even this wouldn’t be enough to pull me out of burnout, away from the depression and anxiety ridden life, and into a place I could find my smile again.   Then what?

The New Adventure

About a year later, I hit the eject button on Amazon. My dog Juneau and I packed up our lives and moved to the small town of Ashland, Oregon (population ~21,000), where we began an entirely new chapter.

For the first five years of my business, I had the support of a well-established lavender company to help me learn the ropes. I also had a built-in network of other Pelindaba Lavender franchise owners across the country. It was collaborative and empowering, and at the time, felt secure.

But by mid-2023, cracks in the foundation of the company we represented became more evident.

In January 2024, those cracks became a collapse.

The sole owner of Pelindaba Lavender disappeared, becoming unresponsive to every employee, artisan, franchise owner, wholesale account, customer, and business partner. By the end of the month, the farm and business had ceased operations entirely.  No public notice of the closure was issued at the time, leaving those of us connected to the business to manage inquiries without guidance.

Overnight, I lost my exclusive supplier, website, order fulfillment, new product development, marketing support, customer list, and social media following. I was forced to absorb financial losses related to inventory that was never delivered.

The owner never declared bankruptcy, meaning there was no process to even file a claim.  It was total silence.

There was no clause in our legal agreements addressing the closure of the farm. No contingency plan. No playbook for this scenario.

For a moment, I wondered if this was the end of the adventure I had worked so hard to start.

The Decision to Rebuild

What scared me more than the unknown was the alternative — having to go back to high tech, to the same pace, the same pressure, the same version of my life I already knew I couldn’t continue.

And yet, even in the midst of that uncertainty, a few key factors gave me the space and confidence to move forward and rebuild.

·       I had enough product on hand to keep the store open for at least three months, which meant I didn’t have to make rushed decisions or signal disruption to customers while I assessed my options and planned a thoughtful path forward.

·       This unfolded during our slower season, giving me the necessary bandwidth to research new suppliers, evaluate potential product offerings, source ingredients, and begin reimagining the business without the pressure of peak demand.

·       This happened in my fifth year of business, not my first, which made all the difference. By then, I understood my customers, my numbers, and my operations well enough to trust my instincts and move forward independently.

·       I had clear data showing that a lavender-focused business could succeed, reinforcing the concept would continue to work.

·       I was in the ideal location to rebuild. The Pacific Northwest is home to exceptional lavender growers, and being surrounded by experienced farmers and producers made it possible to re-source with confidence.

Securing the best raw materials became my first priority. I reached out to wholesale lavender farmers across Oregon, all of whom expressed shock to hear what had happened to Pelindaba Lavender, and I asked for samples of their essential oils, hydrosols, and buds.

We blind-tested everything. What I discovered was eye-opening: the same strain of lavender smelled remarkably different when grown and distilled on eight different farms. It deepened my respect for the plant and the farmers in ways I hadn’t anticipated.

At the same time, long-standing relationships began to matter more than ever. Two local lavender farms generously shared their knowledge around packaging, labeling, bottling equipment, and production processes. They agreed to supply raw materials and finished products so I could begin rebuilding core staples.

I also partnered with a local, woman-owned aromatherapy company capable of manufacturing more complex formulas, like our Lavender Hand & Body Lotion and Lavender Healing Salve, while maintaining the integrity of the original Pelindaba Lavender recipes.

I also chose to continue working with artisans who had previously partnered with Pelindaba Lavender, like our jewelry maker and ceramicist, whose businesses were also devastated.  It was a chance to help people I cared about rebuild, too.

The Birth of a Collective

Each of these decisions planted the seeds for something new.

I had a large storefront to fill, and replacing 200+ products on my own was impossible. I couldn’t replicate a 24-year-old company that produced nearly everything in-house — and I didn’t want to.

What I could do was curate.

I envisioned a lavender collective: a thoughtfully chosen assortment of the best lavender-based lifestyle goods, some handcrafted by me, others sourced from trusted farmers and artisans who shared my values.  New possibilities emerged, like finally having the creative freedom to develop new products from the ground up.

True Lavender Collective was born from that vision. A company rooted in high-quality, handcrafted goods, and committed to supporting small farms and artisans.

(Rebranding itself became an entire journey of its own.  One I’ll save for a future blog.)

What Happened to Pelindaba Lavender?

Many customers understandably ask.

The owner stopped payments on all commercial loans, and no action was taken to mitigate foreclosure. A foreclosure judgment was finalized in Fall 2024, and the property went to Sheriff’s sale in early 2025.

A local couple purchased most of the land and donated it to the Alchemy Art Center, a nonprofit community art space on San Juan Island. The organization is currently fundraising to transform the former farm’s large production building into a vibrant, multi-use art campus featuring studios, residencies, a community kitchen, and performance spaces.

The lavender plants remain for the community to enjoy, but lavender products are no longer produced there.

At the time of the collapse, there were seven franchise locations across Florida, Texas, Georgia, Washington, and Oregon.  Today, only two of us are still standing.

A Stronger, Truer Business

What began as a crisis became an unexpected gift.

Today, my business is more financially healthy, resilient, and aligned than ever before. We help small, family-run farms utilize their crops and generate year-round income, all without requiring me to own a farm, wake up at dawn, or do physical labor (three things I have zero interest in doing).

I get to do what I love: handcraft lavender products, preserve beloved formulas, create new ones, and curate the best from small businesses.  Every batch I handcraft pulls me fully into the present, far from the rush and pressure I left behind.  And every new product idea is a tiny act of reclaiming my smile, turning what once felt impossible into something tangible and healing. 

Thank you for being part of this journey.

Maybe one day the even longer version of this story will become a book. For now, I hope this sheds light on how I got here — and why True Lavender Collective exists today.

If you have questions about our story, I’d love to hear them.

 

TL;DR My Lavender Story

After years of burnout at Amazon, I realized I had to choose myself before anyone else would. My mind went blank imagining the next step — except for one thing I’d quietly wanted: owning a retail store just like the Pelindaba Lavender stores I loved to visit. 

The company started a franchise program years earlier which planted the seed, and an Idaho road trip finally sparked the question: Why does that have to be a dream? Why couldn’t I do that in this lifetime?

I walked away from a career that was no longer survivable and took the leap.  After five years in business, Pelindaba Lavender suddenly collapsed — as my exclusive supplier that equated to no products, no support, no ability to collect monies owed to me.  But returning to high tech seemed scarier than rebuilding from scratch.

I chose to rebuild. I sourced the best Pacific Northwest lavender, partnered with local family farms and artisans, and curated a collective of high-quality, handcrafted lavender products. True Lavender Collective was born: a company that celebrates lavender, supports small farmers and makers, and is rooted in community and craft.

From crisis to clarity, burnout to purpose, lavender became more than a product — it became a lavender lifestyle, meant to be lived, and shared.