
A letter to a business consultant who asked me my “Why”
Who knew that starting a company meant discovering all the feels?
Bra Theory, 2017
Dear Consultant,
I’m writing a long-form letter to you. It’s partly for you and partly for me. I hope you find some service from it.
A while ago, in May of 2017, you consulted me on Bra Theory.
I explained that I was working on the perfect-fitting bra. I had invented an algorithm that would make the made-to-measure attainable.
“Okay, great,” you said. “That’s WHAT you’re doing. But why? What makes you get up in the morning?”
“To help women feel confident,” I said.
You accepted it.
We then hammered out a statement, trying to capture what Bra Theory was all about, and moved on with the rest of the business plan.
I want to share something with you about that day.
The truth is, in that moment — when you asked “what makes you get up in the morning”?
I didn’t have an answer.
What makes you get up in the morning?
Around that time, there were days that I didn’t want to get up anymore.
That day, you were the epitome of kind and sassy, but I didn’t know how to respond.
“I live by two rules,” you shared with me, almost conspiratorially, sister to sister. “Show up, and be kind.”
Still, I didn’t know how to respond. That’s why I said what I said.
“To help women feel confident,” I had replied.
I was on autopilot.
But what I really wanted to say?
The truth is, I wasn’t showing up anymore.
I had been feeling sick — sicker than I’ve ever been. For whatever reason, I felt pain in my body every day, and couldn’t be more than a few steps from the bathroom — no matter what I ate or drank — and I didn’t even know how to show up for myself, let alone Bra Theory.
“Show up, and be kind.”
Before I knew it, I was skipping out on meeting friends because I wasn’t sure if I would burst into tears (or worse, into the runs). I was working on Bra Theory fewer and fewer hours of the day.
I was struggling in the mornings.
I woke up almost every day physically desiccated, dense, and disconnected.
Every morning, I told myself that I had to work. That I was being lazy, undisciplined, if I did not show up.
Every morning, I told myself it was in my head, in my body, not visible, not a “real” illness.
Every morning, I felt guilty for not working through it all — the nausea, the pain, the gastrointestinal firestorm.
Come on. People are starving and dying all over the world. You live in a fancy SoHo loft and you’re running your own business. What’s YOUR excuse?
That day, when you asked me my why, I had wanted to ask,
“What if I don’t wake up wanting to do anything at all? What if I don’t ever feel like showing up again?”
I didn’t, because a part of me knew that there weren’t easy answers.
Or maybe I knew that the answer would still be the same:
Wake up, show up, be kind.
I’m sharing this story with you because, one way or another, I’ve found an answer to my unasked questions.
Recently, I told my coach that I was still struggling with “working”.
She asked me then what “work” and “purpose” mean to me.
If “work” is the concrete manifestation — the Bra Theory, the conversations with friends, the letters to people who I care about in my life — what is the “purpose” of it all?
Why do I do what I do?
I heard myself think:
“Purpose? Isn’t that for saccharine, sentimental, irrational people?”
“Purpose? Isn’t that lofty?”
“Purpose? Am I allowed to have one?”
And then I cried, as I do when I feel connected again to who I am and what I love.
I think I have figured out a purpose, and what makes me, me.
It is still in flux, I forget it all the time, and I stress about it when I do.
But still, I try to show up and be kind, regardless of how I’m feeling.
In November of 2017, we made our first full-time hire.
I was still afraid of bringing her onto the team because I wasn’t sure I could show up every day.
I was afraid that I was going to burst out into tears.
The first fear was unfounded — I showed up, and have been showing up every day. Some days it feels that Bra Theory is moving at light speed, and everything is falling off the shelves of this rocketship.
The second fear — well, I have in fact burst out into tears in front of my employees, but it’s not so bad as I thought.
It turns out that I made a good hire. She’s an open-hearted, wonderful human being who understands that people are human.
I worry about the second, third, fourth hires… but I think those worries will meet similar endings. (A note from the future: they have).
Regarding the body stuff: between you and me, it’s all energy wanting to be witnessed (there was a full moon day where my entire left side felt hot, as if it were rising into the air, and I was shaking and ready to burst into tears at the slightest provocation) and then released. There are many days of release, purging, and messy bodily things. On neutral days, I see that it is what it is. On difficult days, I wonder if I am broken and sick and spiraling in the wrong direction, delusional for carrying on instead of going to every doctor in the world, or worse, spinning my wheels.
It has been a year now, of bodily sensations. I choose to call them sensations instead of pain.
Could it be delusional? Maybe. Could it be shedding layers of self-doubt, shoulds, and conventional knowledge that might not apply to me? Maybe.
Mysterious things happen for all sorts of mysterious reasons. Loved ones pass; natural disasters strike; invisible illness does, too.
In 2017, I was confronted with a choice:
- Think that my life sucks, wallow in self-pity, hate my body and whatever was happening, spend a lifetime looking for doctors who look at me as if I’m crazy
- Suck it up, assume the best, and pick another battle
I chose to not be laid low by something out of my control.
I chose to not fear, distrust, or medicate the pain. (Author’s note: I have a doctor’s note that everything checks out, I’m just ~experiencing~ things.)
I chose to trust, love, and accept my body — to accept it in sickness and in health.
I chose to not treat this biochemical firestorm within me as a flaw, but instead as my body’s attempt to reach homeostasis.
I chose my battle, and my battle today is Bra Science, not my body. One day, I might volunteer my time to figuring out what’s going on biochemically in my body, but I don’t think we’ll discover it this lifetime.
I chose to keep going, to keep showing up, to keep being kind — because it’s what is most important to me.
I have read that you are going through something similar — body stuff, messy stuff, invisible things, feelings, and more.
You have a sister in me if you ever need someone to talk you through acid reflux, IBS-C, SIBO, fibromyalgia, mysterious aches and pains, Saturn returns, or spiritual awakenings when you’re agnostic at best.
Xoxo,
Mona

