I was recently on a site visit, standing in a room that was half finished and somehow full of noise. The contractor was walking us through the list of what needed to happen next. Electrical rough-in. Cabinet adjustments. A surprise framing hiccup that had to be solved on the spot. The usual dance of keeping every wheel turning at the same time, without letting any of them roll off the cliff.

My designer stepped forward and did what she does best. She explained timelines with calm authority. She translated construction speak into client speak. She found the soft edge between a problem and a solution and smoothed it over in real time. She made it all look effortless.

Her talent was shining.

Her creativity was there—

steady, patient, waiting for more room to play.

And in that moment, I felt a familiar nudge. A whisper I’ve heard before.

When Leading Becomes Louder Than Creating

This is what no one tells you about running a design firm. One day, you wake up and realize you have become the manager, not the maker. You spend more time coordinating, guiding, troubleshooting, and mentoring than you do designing. You answer a hundred questions a day but rarely ask any of your own. Creativity doesn’t disappear. It simply gets buried under everything you have built.

I can design faster in my head than anyone on my team, not because I am better, but because I have done it for decades. I can see the solution before the sentence is finished. And that means I mentor and teach with ease. But it also means that the creative role I used to live in so naturally has been replaced by something steadier, heavier, and necessary.

I love my team. I love our clients. I love the work. But somewhere in the growth of AHD and the beautiful chaos of managing a thriving studio, I missed the feeling of being alone with my ideas. Of pulling together a space because I felt something, not because a deadline required something. Of playing with texture, color, and form just to see what might happen.

That longing is part of what pushed me to open Heirloom.

The Shop That Became a Sanctuary

People think the store exists to support the design business upstairs. And it does. It gives our clients and our designer community a place to experience pieces in person and bring soul into their homes. But there was another reason—a quieter one.

I needed a creative outlet again.

A place where I can curate freely. A space to gather settings that feel like art. A place where design is intuitive, immediate, hands-on, and alive. 

Heirloom gave me an outlet to create time and space for others without restraint or bowing to project needs, cultivating the vision in my mind. It is the only place where creativity leads rather than follows, where I can mentor without losing the spark. 

Where the ideas in my head finally have room to breathe. Where the designer in me gets to lead again, even if only for a moment. 

Returning to the Part of Myself That Started It All

Every business evolves. Every designer does too. The key is paying attention when something inside you needs to be reclaimed. Standing in that half-finished room last week, watching my designer shine, I realized something important. Leadership is a gift. Growth is a gift. But so is returning to the part of you that started everything in the first place.

Heirloom is that return.