Did You Rely On That Space As the Only Way You Did Business?

When a program, platform, or community you've been leaning on closes, pivots, or no longer feels right, something bigger than logistics gets shaken. You’re not just looking for the next Zoom link or training schedule. You’re left holding the deeper questions: Why am I doing this? What was actually driving me?

So many of us begin our business journeys inside someone else’s container. It gives us shape. Direction. Accountability. We build offerings, create content, and feel part of something bigger than ourselves. And there’s nothing wrong with that. But when we’ve built everything on that one scaffold—when our rhythm, confidence, and clarity all depend on being inside that specific space—we’re not running our business. We’re borrowing someone else’s.

Losing that structure reveals everything.

It shows you where you’ve handed over the reins, where community became the crutch. Where the fire you once felt for your business was really just the warmth of being around others who believed in theirs.

It doesn’t make you flaky. It doesn’t mean you failed. But it does ask something of you. Can you love your business enough to keep going when no one else is watching?

When there’s no weekly live call, no community thread, no external cheer squad?

If the answer is no—not really, not right now—then that’s not shameful. It’s a signal. One that invites you to pause and check in: Was I doing this for the connection, not the creation? Was it about being seen more than serving something deeper?

You can build a business around a community. You can build one from it. But when your entire sense of direction depends on it, it’s time to ask: What’s mine? What would I still be doing if no one clapped? If no one replied?

This is where the real relationship with your business begins. Not in the high-energy launches or the dopamine of group validation, but in the quiet. In the absence. In the grief and grit of starting again, this time from truth.

Do you love what you’re creating enough to keep showing up even when the lights go out?

Do you love it enough to rebuild from your own rhythm, not someone else’s calendar?

Do you believe in it enough to keep tending to it slowly, honestly, imperfectly—even without the container that once held you?

Because business isn’t just a structure, it’s an expression. And when the old scaffolding collapses, the essence is still there—if you choose to meet it.

Let the questions guide you back to the centre. Let the grief sharpen your clarity. Let the pause become your practice.

And then—if it’s still true for you—begin again.

Ask Yourself:

• Was I doing this for the connection or the creation?

• Do I still want to do this if no one claps or comments?

• What part of my business do I truly love, outside of the community that once held it