Hey friends! Wow, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?
I’m guessing you might be a little surprised to hear from me. You’re probably wondering: Where has Tammy been? What has she been up to? Is she even still running her business? These are questions I hear often when I run into clients, and honestly—they’re fair ones.
I’ve been pretty quiet on my business page over the past year, and much of that was intentional. I needed a break from the stress and the self-esteem-squashing comparison that can creep in when we spend too much time scrolling. But if I’m being honest, part of me didn’t know what to say. My world has been full of transition (all good things), and I needed space to process it and figure out where I wanted to go next.
Over the past couple of years, I’ve been untangling—not in a bad way—just working through the growing pains of figuring out what this next phase of life and my business looks like. I knew some decisions needed to be made, ones that actually fit my life, my family, and my future, and I needed to look at them honestly without rushing.
I’ve been hesitant to share this process—not because it’s earth-shattering, but because being real can feel vulnerable, and I worried about being judged. But transparency has always mattered to me. I’ve never been about the polished social media version of life; I’ve always shared the real one. So thank you for being here, for being curious, and for taking the time to read.
Like so many small business owners, COVID changed everything for me. I’ve been open about how dramatically my business shifted during that season, and when the world finally started to peek out from behind face masks, everything had changed. I found myself bending, flexing, and reinventing my business constantly to keep up with an unrecognizable world.
I became a chameleon, constantly changing colors to fit the landscape. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn’t. I morphed, the world kept changing, and I felt like I was a sinking ship, plugging holes with a rapidly dwindling set of fingers and toes. I took on extra work to stay afloat and even tried a brief return to the corporate world. I lasted six months before I ran out of there with my hair on fire. It wasn’t the job—it was me. My Croc-wearing feet just didn’t fit into tailored corporate shoes anymore.
The truth is, I knew I didn’t belong there, but I also didn’t quite know where I fit anymore. And that question is what pushed me to slow down, reassess, and figure out what was next.
Then, in the summer of 2024, our world changed even more when I moved my mom 3,000 miles from her home in Virginia to be closer to us here in the Pacific Northwest. Overnight, I found myself squished between raising a teenager and caring for my aging mom. It’s a blessing—one I don’t take lightly—but it also brought something very important into focus: my family needed more stability.
As much as I hated to admit it, I couldn’t take the same risks I took when I started my business. With a teenager just a few years away from college and the reality that my mom will eventually need more care, the stakes felt higher. Feeling defeated, I started looking for a more stable job.
It was so grueling. Every job I applied for felt like pulling out my eyelashes. Potential employers barely wanted to look at the skills I had gained over the last ten years of building a business. Instead, they viewed it as “time off” or, even worse, “a hobby.” It was equal parts demoralizing and infuriating. A decade of blood, sweat, and tears reduced to a mom-cation. A break from “real work” to raise my son, sip umbrella drinks, and eat bonbons. I began to feel like a 1950’s housewife. Couldn’t a woman be a successful business owner and raise a family? Why was that so hard to believe?
Then, during the week I was in Virginia, slogging through 40 years of dusty memories and despair to move my mom to Tacoma, I got a text from my husband. His company had been trying to hire help for his department, but no one seemed to be the right fit. They needed someone who could manage construction projects and help grow the department, something that was right up my alley. Dan, who has always been my biggest advocate, had mentioned my name more than once. But since we were married, there was understandable hesitation about having us work together in the same department. Somehow, through the grace of God, the president of the company agreed to have a conversation with me. My interview was scheduled for the week I returned from Virginia. I hesitantly accepted.
That interview was a turning point. The president of the company was delightful. He listened. He was genuinely interested. He looked me in the eye. And most importantly, he spoke to me like an equal. He appreciated my background in construction project management, but what excited him even more was the potential I brought through business development, marketing, and client relationship skills.
Something shifted in me during that conversation. Instead of feeling like I had to justify the last ten years of my life, I could do what I do best and let my work speak for itself. My head puffed high with confidence, my intelligence bloomed, and for the first time in a long while, I felt like myself. He saw my value. He saw me. He loved that I was a woman-owned business and wanted to give our partnership a chance. We shook hands and agreed to a six-month contract through my business, with the understanding that if it worked for me, my business, and his company, I would transition into a full-time role. He hired both me and my business; what an incredible gift.
That was eighteen months ago. Since then, I’ve been hired on full-time, and this past November, I was promoted. I genuinely love the company: the family values it represents, the trust they place in my abilities, and the unexpected bonus of having an office next to my husband every day. I get to do what I love, what I built my business around in the first place: working with great clients, building meaningful relationships, and seeing the creative results of my hard work. I’m incredibly thankful that someone took a chance on me, and I work hard every day to make sure I never take that opportunity for granted. The people I work for are truly wonderful, and I’m especially grateful for my husband, who continues to push me forward, cheer me on, and wear his Superman cape right beside me each day. We are truly partners in life, both at work and at home. Dan—you truly are my hero. Thank you for always having my back.
So, if you’re still hanging in there, let me answer a few questions.
Tammy, this is not earth-shattering. Why didn’t you share this news sooner?
It’s a little embarrassing to admit, but I was afraid. Afraid that sharing I had returned to a full-time “company” job would feel like admitting I had failed, that I had somehow let people down—that I let you down. I receive messages often about being an inspiration for pioneering a business, and in my mind, admitting I was back in a company position felt like betrayal. Like maybe I wasn’t the inspiration people thought I was. Like maybe I was just… a fake.
I worried that I couldn’t work for anyone else anymore—that after my corporate crash-and-burn job, I was somehow “unemployable.” I worried people would see me differently, like I had sold out for a stable paycheck. But the truth is, priorities change. We change. Growth doesn’t always look the way we expect it to.
I had to come to terms with that. I had to stop judging myself before I let others judge me. I had to regain my confidence, let go of old expectations, and simply be comfortable with who I am. This is the fourth, fifth, sixtieth version of me—and we never stop changing, no matter how old we get. It’s never too late to change, to evolve, to redefine yourself.
Now, I feel settled. I feel happy. I’m enjoying this phase of life for what it is—without guilt, without apology.
Tammy, are you still running a business?
The answer is an absolute yes.
As I’ve mentioned, my new company is an advocate of my business. I’ve definitely simplified things. I’m refocusing on what made me fall in love with my business in the first place: photographing high school seniors, teens, and their families. Teens are my jam. They’re my heart and soul, and the genre I’m most passionate about. If I’ve photographed your teen, you know this about me. There’s something incredibly meaningful about building their confidence, helping them see a different side of themselves, and lifting them up through the immense pressure they carry every day. They give me purpose. They make me happy. Over the years of trying to adapt and survive, I muddied the waters, but no more. My photography business was built on teens and their families—and that’s exactly what you’ll be seeing more of from me in the year ahead.
As I close out this long-winded blog (thank you for hanging in there), I pray you and your family are doing well. You may not realize it, but I keep an eye on you through Facebook and Instagram more than you know. I’ve watched a decade’s worth of my graduating seniors grow into adults—graduating college, traveling, getting married, having their first babies, discovering their passions, and building lives of their own. It’s truly a gift to witness.
And to my moms—I see you. Adapting. Growing. Becoming. Stepping into new phases of your own lives. I know I’m not alone in this journey; we’re growing alongside one another.
My goal for 2026 is to be more visible—share the good, the messy, and the ridiculousness that comes with real life. Not just filling your feed with pool decks, Jack’s latest swims, books, and Australian Shepherds (though those aren’t going anywhere), but showing up as myself: a red-headed, hard-hat-wearing, professional photographer who is trying to manage it all as a teenage-boy mom and a wife.
Thank you for hanging in there and taking the time to read. I truly look forward to reconnecting with all of you in the coming year. And thank you for your grace and patience, as always. I am and will continue to be a work in progress. Let’s go rock 2026.
~Tammy
