As I take my journey down memory lane, I’ve arrived at the hardest memory of all. The memory that I’ve spent the past five years blaming for losing my dreams, my hope, and my sense of self. It’s the memory that turned this eternal dreamer into a heartbroken pessimist. This is the story of opening our restaurant and my time in the restaurant industry. But it’s more than that. It’s the story about finding hope and finding myself again after everything felt lost.
The Beginning of a Fantasy
I was only 23 years old when we opened the doors to Aroha Restaurant. While my husband had spent over a decade in the restaurant industry, I had no experience at all…other than being a loyal customer at my favorite establishments, of course.
While owning a restaurant had always been my husband’s dream, it was never mine. For me, it was more of a fun fantasy I always had. I had watched the Salinger’s run their family restaurant on Party of Five as a kid, and thought “That would be so cool!”. I had my toy food restaurant, Fen Foods, named for my love of fennel. But my restaurant ambitions stopped there. It was never a path I envisioned pursuing throughout my childhood or teen years. It was as much of a fantasy then as the idea of being a CIA spy is for me now after watching too many episodes of “Chuck”.
When we decided to open the restaurant, I was excited. I saw a fantasy come to life as I eagerly designed the layout of the restaurant, created the graphics for the logo and menus, and we landed ourselves on the cover of a local magazine.
The Mission is What Matters
Owning the restaurant wasn’t just a fantasy for me, though. It was a mission. A mission to overwrite the wrongs I felt from being mentally abused at my previous job and the wrongs I observed of how my husband was treated at his previous jobs. This was our chance to show that being a respectful employer was possible. I wanted to make sure that our employees were paid fairly and received overtime for their work, were never forced to work ridiculous hours, and most importantly, I wanted them to know we respected their personal lives.
“I feel like it’s time to prove in one of the most challenging industries that you do not need to take advantage of people and treat them wrong to be successful.”
– We’re Opening Our First Restaurant (March 26, 2014)
Ironically, while I was so set on looking out for everyone else, I let myself get trampled in the process. By the time the restaurant closed, I felt like I had lost everything.
The Tale of Broken Dreams
It’s weird looking back now. When I wrote my blog the other week about running a film set at 18, I wrote about the struggle I’ve felt all these years. The lack of success I’ve felt. Yet, in my research, I found a blog from before we opened our restaurant, and all I talked about was how proud I was of the experience.
Somewhere along the way during Aroha, I lost my ability to feel proud of myself. Before we opened, I believed that anything was possible. By the time we closed, I believed that nothing was.
I began the restaurant as a dreamer. But I left the restaurant as a pessimist.
I’ve wondered for years why the pain of this was different than any other pain I’ve felt. I have constantly asked myself why I can’t let go.
And now, reading my old blogs, I have my answer. The experiences I had during the restaurant fundamentally changed me. I was no longer at my core the person I spent 24 years of my life being. I erased the heart of me and I’ve spent countless energy trying to get it back.
As the doors to our restaurant opened, I was elated. I was ready to make my husband’s dreams come true and was eager to make a magical daily experience for our customers. I felt proud of our design and our menu.
Riding The Never Ending Rollercoaster of the Restaurant Industry
We got rave reviews. Endless customers telling us how amazing we were. They would tell us the food was amazing, the interior was like a jewel box, and how much they loved it.
But then, just as quickly as the compliments rolled in, we’d be hit with a bad review. Even just one would feel crushing. Scathing even. One customer wrote that our interior looked like a cheap Denny’s. From my standpoint, it was beautiful and I loved it. But every time we had a slow night, I would wonder if my design was the reason. Together, my husband and I would spend countless days, weeks, even months, obsessing over what we were doing wrong.
“Are we forgotten about? Is our menu not diverse enough? Does our aesthetics lack? Is our service not up to par? Do we need more advertising?”
– Go Go Go, Because No Matter What, You Have to Try (November 5, 2017)
The Highs
Yet, just like that, we’d turn around and have a jammed packed night.
Owning a restaurant was the biggest rollercoaster we could ever have experienced. We had countless celebrities dining at the restaurant, raving to us about the food. Film crews coming to show us on the news. Large events reaching out to us like the The Breeder’s Cup Taste of the World to showcase my husband’s food. Bobby Flay telling my husband his venison dish was incredible. Major companies including American Airlines hiring us to cater their events.
Even now we run into old customers who still rave about Aroha and many who beg my husband to open a new restaurant.
The Lows
Yet, each high came with a new low. Before we even opened the restaurant, we dealt with a disgruntled employee. We had hired a muralist who ended up never completing the job. After we fired him, he called us and left a threatening voicemail that he “wanted us dead”.
When the restaurant was opened, we constantly dealt with customers complaining about pricing. Sometimes they’d complain it was too low, and therefore couldn’t be fancy enough. Other times, they’d complain it was too high. They’d complain about the layout of our restaurant. The inside was too small or you could hear cars when sitting outside. We had various issues with our staff, including having a blank check stolen. Many days, our staff members would complain about not having enough hours, but equally complain when we gave them more hours…and then call out to go to Coachella.
Every day, we’d wake up uncertain about what the day would bring.
The Dreamer Still Lives On
It was an endless head game and to be honest, I still don’t understand it. But back in 2017, regardless of how stressed I was, I still believed.
Maybe some people find it ludicrous to try over and over again. I’m sure some people would’ve thrown in the towel by now. I won’t lie: there have been plenty of moments where it just feels easiest to give up. Most times though, instead of giving up, you just need to reach a little (or a lot) further. You need to put aside your fears and go all in. You need to get up from the floor, wipe your tears, and head back up the stairs because maybe next time, you won’t fall down. Maybe next time, you’ll get to exactly where you want to be, completely unscathed.
– Go Go Go, Because No Matter What, You Have to Try (November 5, 2017)
Don’t stop dreaming or believing. Don’t stop reaching for your goals. Not until you know you’ve done everything in your power to try. Then, no matter what happens, you know you gave it your all and at the end of the day, isn’t that what’s most important? Leaving behind the what ifs and the I should haves, and instead, just going for it.
That was the last blog I ever wrote about Aroha. By the end of 2018, the Woolsey fire had shut us down for over a month, and by the time it ended, we were closed for good.
The Dream vs. The Dreamer
It took one year for my entire belief system to fall apart. One year. Not even one year. It was two moments. The first, was a decision that left me broken and one I’ve tried every day to make my way back from.
I spent the past 4 years hating the restaurant. It’s a deep hate full of passion and anger. I think the reason though it’s so strong is because I don’t want to admit to myself the times I loved it. The times I daydreamed about our son working there one day. The times I’d watch my husband light up talking to our regular customers. And of course, the many times my parents would talk about how proud they were of us and our business.
It would’ve been easier if we had just outright failed. But we didn’t. We had over 500 raving reviews on Yelp, loyal customers who were heart broken the day we closed, and we had received countless awards from the county. But it wasn’t enough. We still couldn’t succeed. It was like walking an endless tunnel where every time you think you’ve seen the light at the end, a boulder falls down and blocks the path.
I don’t remember the year it was. Or the month it was. But I remember the night the first boulder fell and crushed me.
The Give and Take of The Restaurant Industry
For years, my husband and I had been in a torturous cycle with the restaurant. Every time the restaurant would give, and we’d be flying high, it would turn around and take twenty more things from us. Every few months, we’d have to decide if this was it. If this was the moment we finally closed.
My husband was devastated over the prospect of us closing. Every time we’d discuss it, I could see his dreams being dashed and the pain across his face. I knew he wasn’t ready. I knew that until he was, we’d have to keep going.
The Decision That Broke Me
It was the middle of the night and I was sitting up in bed, panicking over the state of the restaurant. Gwith came to me, telling me we couldn’t afford to pay our employees. We had no money in the business account and we had no choice. We had to use our savings to pay the bills. Not just some of our savings. Our entire savings.
I cried. In that moment, all I wanted was to close the business and never look back. But I looked into his eyes and he was so distraught. He pleaded that we’d get the money back and the business was just around the corner from reaching success. I’m not angry at him. He truly believed it, and he needed to believe it. The struggles had eaten away at him so much that he had to hold on to this glimmer of hope to keep himself from completely crashing.
I knew the decision I had to make would either destroy me or destroy him. So in that moment, through tears, I chose the path of no return. I knew that we couldn’t close until he was ready. It was his dream and I couldn’t possibly be the one to crush it. I couldn’t do that to him. I could never do that to him.
The Destruction of a Dreamer
I’ve spent a lot of time angry. For a time, I was angry at everyone but myself. I blamed my parents for always telling me I’d be okay; but now I wasn’t and they couldn’t help. I blamed Gwith for making me choose the restaurant over myself. Even though he always asked me what I wanted to do and gave me the choice. He never once forced me into a decision.
In the end though, I made the decision and it’s mine to accept. I thought I had been in denial. Refusing to accept my own responsibility.
The truth is though, I’ve been blaming myself more than I ever even realized.
The Symbol of a Life Savings
Since I was a little girl, I had the concept of saving money instilled in me. My mom would tell me stories about how my grandparents both came from nothing but in the end, they were amazing at saving their money. She would tell me how they believed in spending on items that would last, and because they saved, they had the money to do so.
With this mindset, I spent my childhood saving any money I received. Birthday money, holiday money. Random allowance money. Every penny went into my bank account so I could save it for something “special” one day.
When my grandfather passed away, he left me a sizable inheritance. Because of the stories my mom would tell me, this money wasn’t just money to me. It was a symbol of possibilities. It meant the dream of recording my music again one day, or the chance to take beautiful, memorable vacations with my family. It meant the relief of knowing when bills came in, or an unexpected cost arose, we’d be just fine. My grandparents had worked so hard for this money that I knew I wanted to make sure it was used wisely; whether for practical expenses, making memories, or following my own dreams.
In the moment I chose to use all of that money, and all of my money as a kid to save the business, my entire world crumbled. I saw my hopes and dreams disappear in the blink of an eye. Every sense of security I had in my life was gone.
The Regrets That Live in Me
It’s been at least five years since I made that painful decision, and it still haunts me. The insomnia, depression, and anxiety stays with me. I can’t remember the last time I didn’t lie awake at 2am stressing about money, angrily rehashing that night with tears in my eyes.
“Waking up to those misty skies. I wanna know I’ll be alright. Sometimes when the clouds part in the sky, I see a million dreams fly by.”
– “Dreams” lyrics, by me – April 2019
I’ve spent a lot of time thinking to myself that if we recouped that savings one day, I’d feel better. And sure, it would bring back the sense of security I crave.
But the honest truth is that all of the money in the world can’t erase the blame I’ve tortured myself with for years. I think in many ways, I’ve been punishing myself – and through writing this blog, I’ve finally realized why.
The Day the Dreamer Truly Died
At the end of 2018, our community was hit with the Woolsey Fire. As the fire surrounded the community, we had to close our restaurant for over a month due to poor air quality. By the time the air was clear and we could reopen, we couldn’t afford it. As much as we had fought to keep my husband’s dream alive, we now had no choice but to say goodbye.
The evening before, was a wonderful evening. I surprised Gwith and our son with the news that I was pregnant with our second child. The next day, we called my parents to tell them. The phone call began with excitement over the news, and somehow derailed into a conversation about us needing to close the restaurant. What started as a joyous day turned into a nightmare.
My husband was devastated and I was devastated for him. Two months later, as we were still copping with the loss of our restaurant, we had another imaginable loss. I had miscarried our second baby.
The Blame Game
I know logically that miscarriages happen for many reasons beyond our control. My miscarriage happened months later, after all. But I know in my heart, I’ve constantly wondered, what if? What if the restaurant had been able to reopen and be successful? Or what if I had chosen to never invest our savings and we had closed a year earlier? Or what if, those last two months before my miscarriage we hadn’t been in such debt, causing me nightly panic attacks?
There are so many endless what-ifs when experiencing an unthinkable, unexplainable, trauma.
The truth is, the pain of both experiences is so tied up together. How can they not be? Within a matter of two months, we had our dreams vanish in the blink of an eye.
When reflecting now, it wasn’t just money we invested. It was ourselves. Our relationship. Our family time. We put everything into the business and lost what felt like everything. I walked away broken.
The dreamer was gone. The pessimist had arrived.
I’ve finally realized why I’ve focused so much on the money and that night. It’s not because of what’s in our bank account. It’s because it’s a constant symbol of everything I lost. Every time I check our bank balance or stress about a bill or a vacation, it’s a painful reminder of my heartbreak. It brings me straight back to the worst time in my life. It’s a cycle I’ve been locked in, without even recognizing it.
The Rise of the Dreamer
I grew up believing that in life, there are no regrets. Every decision, every moment, happens for a reason. Even I know in my heart, that if my miscarriage hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t have my beautiful daughter who I love with every inch of my soul.
But for the last four years, I’ve lived the exact opposite of this belief. I’ve spent years regretting my decision that fateful night, blaming it for every moment of pain I’ve felt since.
This money was more than money. It was more than a sense of security. It was a symbol of all of my dreams. I’ve spent the last four years feeling like my dreams were taken away from me, forever.
When I spoke to someone I love recently, she told me I wasn’t alone. Often times, she feels this way about her own dreams. She then said one thing that struck me. She said “we’re just not meant to have our dreams.” In that moment, after four years of living in darkness, the lights came on.
I don’t believe that. I can’t believe that. I’m 31 years old and I’m not done living my dreams. I can’t be done.
As long as I’m here on this planet, there’s always the ability to pursue and chase my dreams.
It was in this moment that I realized there was nobody else and nothing else in the way of me pursing my dreams. The only person that has been stopping me, is me.
“Not everything is meant to be, incredibly easy. If it was, there wouldn’t be dreams.”
– “Dreams” lyrics, written by me – April 2019
Finding My Hope Again
Instead of focusing my time on the dreams I lost and the loss of our savings, I need to focus my time on the moments. Maybe one day we’ll have a savings again. Maybe we never will. I don’t want to focus my life though on an endless goal of saving money. If there’s anything I’ve learned these past few years its that I can try and save over and over again but something always arises. Whether it’s a broken door, leaking dishwasher, or a disposal that breaks 500 times. I can’t stop expenses from happening. So maybe we’ll only be saving a little at a time. Maybe we’ll always be constantly saving just enough to pay the bills.
All I know is, I have a beautiful family that I want to enjoy my life with.
“But sacrifices are made. Bills need to be paid. And dreams are a fantasy. I live in the reality…But I’ve got to keep on swinging because dreaming is believing that anything is possible. I want to believe I can dream.”
– “Dreams” lyrics, written by me – April 2019 & 2022
The Most Important Lesson of All
After all, what is life without living the moments too? When I look back one day, I don’t want to look back at the savings I have and the life I never lived because I was so busy saving “for the future”. Instead, I want to live in the present and enjoy my life. Make memories. Make my dreams come true. Enjoy the beautiful life I have with my husband and my kids.
“Sometimes when I’m feeling lost, I think about what I’ve found. Recognizing I caught some dreams, even with others missing.
– “Dreams” lyrics by me – written April 2019 & 2022
Sure life’s challenging, but life can be magical. I dream of what could be and I still believe that one day I’m gonna drive across country with my family. And sing on stage in front of millions. And dance with my husband in the moonlight. Live my life like it’s the last time.
I’m gonna go to Bora Bora with my hubby one day.
And watch my kids grow do amazing things.
Maybe I’ll even sing on stage someday,
or just record my songs for my grandkids to play.”
The Future Awaits
I’d be lying if I said this realization has fundamentally changed me overnight. It hasn’t. It doesn’t happen that easily. I’m still the little girl who thrives on a sense of security and I don’t know if or when I’ll regain that. And I honestly don’t know when I’ll be able to release myself from the painful reminders I feel every time I look at our bank account.
But the one thing I do know is, I can’t let this piece of my past define my dreams, or my future. I don’t know how long it will take for me to change my mindset but I’m going to try every single day.
The dreamer is not dead, she’s still deep within me. I’ve felt her constantly trying to come out again. I don’t know when and I don’t know how, but she will be resurrected.
Thank you for reading.
If you enjoyed my exposé, please check out my other blogs in the series: Confessions from a High School Dropout, The 18 Year Old Boss, The Dangerous Mind Game of Emotional Abuse in the Workplace, and A Love That Never Faltered (Following My Dreams).
Follow me on Instagram and Facebook to continue to follow my journey.
Justine, I had tears in my eyes asI read this, tears that we were not here for you & Gwith! We did not know the pain you felt. The love we have for our grandchildren was not shown, I will forever be sorry!
Beautiful story. The most painful stories are the hardest to share but somehow you did. Let this be an inspiration for those who are undergoing the same to never surrender your dreams. When you plunged at the the bottom of your dreams, there is nowhere to go but UP.
Justine, thanks for sharing this post. I’m sure it was very difficult for you and your husband, Gwith. Starting a business is scary, and having to shut it down a year later must be really tough. I can’t even imagine the emotions that you’ve been through – shutting down business, miscarriage and everything else. I hope you are at a better place today (and it looks like you are!). I honestly think that if you can write about these past experiences, acknowledge and internalize what went wrong, and then share it with the world, you are one step closer to healing and achieving success one day. All the best with your future!
Thank you for sharing your story, Justine. It’s so inspiring to know that even through some of the worst experiences of our lives, we will survive, and we’ll come out stronger and wiser at the end of it all.