It’s all about trusting the process.
Tomorrow marks a new chapter for me: the launch of my (second) small business.
I’m feeling a mixed bag of emotions about it.
The first time I ventured into this world was at eighteen, running a small business making custom cakes and vegan bakes. It was a lovely experience—not just because I learned valuable baking skills (and got to enjoy loads of leftover treats), but because it was all done from the comfort of my home. My customers were local people who discovered my cakes through word of mouth, creating a warm and supportive community around what I was doing.
This new venture, launching tomorrow, is called alga.lab, and the kick-off event is an algae bio-yarn workshop. In the workshop, I’ll teach people how to create yarn that can be knitted, crocheted, or woven into textile crafts.
Here’s the scary part for me: people are paying for my knowledge.
And, as excited as I am, I can’t shake the imposter syndrome.
Don’t get me wrong—I do know what I’m teaching. I’ve dedicated a significant portion of my master’s degree to project-based work exploring the best ways to make sodium alginate and experimenting with other alginate-based biomaterials. I even worked on transforming alginate sheets into origami structures. But that was all personal. My mistakes and failures were part of my own creative process. Now, as someone who struggles with perfectionism, I’m nervous about how people will respond to the process of making during the workshop.
Algae is a natural material, and creating bio-yarn can be both fun and frustrating. It doesn’t always work perfectly the first time. Tomorrow’s workshop is a pilot run, and there are plenty of unanswered questions and unknowns. The success of this venture will depend on my ability to communicate instructions clearly, involve people in the process, spark their curiosity, and keep things enjoyable—even if something doesn’t go to plan.
But that’s the thing about entrepreneurship—it’s all about getting comfortable with uncertainty, risk, unanswered questions, and, ultimately, passion. That’s also where the thrill lies.
When I started baking cakes in my kitchen, I wasn’t afraid that the crumb of the sponge might be wrong. I just took the leap, and it worked out. So, I suppose what I’m really trying to say is that we have to trust the process. Without a little imposter syndrome, without the occasional failure, there’s no growth.
Here’s to trusting the process and taking the leap—whatever tomorrow may bring.
p.s. you can find our more about alga.lab here
Thanks for reading!
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