I didn’t open Shot Bar Medspa because I thought it would be easy. I opened it because I didn’t know how to live any other way anymore.
Before Shot Bar, I believed success was something you reached. A destination. A finish line. I believed once I lost the weight (130lbs in 2017), got the degrees (still going for my Ph.D.), built a career or proved myself enough, life would finally calm down. I’d feel safe. Confident. Done.
Owning a small business cured me of that illusion, fast.
Shot Bar didn’t just teach me how to run a business. It taught me how to sit with discomfort, manage stress without self-destruction, trust myself when no one else is coming to save me and, maybe most importantly, how to maintain the version of myself I worked so hard to build.
Lindsey Sikora Subrinsky MSN, APRN, FNP-BCCourtesy of the author
Growth Isn’t Loud. It’s Repetitive.
People imagine entrepreneurship as big moments: the grand opening, the packed schedule, the viral post, the “wow, you’ve really made it” compliments. What they don’t see is the quiet repetition.
Showing up when you’re tired.
Making decisions when you’re scared.
Holding boundaries when it would be easier to fold.
Doing the boring, unglamorous work over and over again.
That repetition mirrors weight maintenance more than weight loss ever did.
Losing weight felt dramatic. Maintaining it feels like discipline without applause. Owning Shot Bar works the same way. There is no finish line where stress disappears. There is just the daily practice of choosing not to quit on yourself.
That realization changed how I view growth. Growth isn’t a breakthrough moment. It’s a thousand small decisions that look unimpressive from the outside but quietly change who you are.
Shot Bar MedspaCourtesy of the author
Stress Is Inevitable. How You Respond Is Not.
Owning a business will stress you out. Period. Finances, staffing, compliance, legal, clinical, marketing, decision fatigue, responsibility, it’s relentless. Early on, I learned something uncomfortable: stress doesn’t care how healed you think you are.
Stress will find your old coping mechanisms and test them. Over and over. And over again.
For me, that meant food. Control. Overworking. White-knuckling. The same patterns that once made weight maintenance feel impossible showed up in business ownership too.
The difference this time was awareness.
Shot Bar forced me to confront stress without numbing it away. I had to learn how to regulate instead of react. To pause instead of spiral. To eat when I was hungry, rest when I was depleted and admit when I needed support, without shame.
That’s when I realized something critical: the skills that keep weight off are the same skills that keep a business alive.
Consistency.
Boundaries.
Self-honesty.
Recovery.
Not perfection. Not motivation. Not willpower. Systems.
Shot Bar MedspaCourtesy of the author
Identity Is the Real Work
The hardest part of owning Shot Bar wasn’t learning how to inject, market or manage. It was becoming the person who could hold all of it.
There’s a moment every business owner hits where excuses stop working. You can’t blame a boss. You can’t hide behind a team. The mirror gets very clear.
That mirror looked familiar.
It was the same one I faced after weight loss, when I realized the scale going down didn’t automatically fix self-worth, boundaries or emotional regulation. I had to grow into the identity of someone who maintains.
Shot Bar demanded that same evolution.
I had to become someone who could tolerate uncertainty without self-sabotage.
Someone who could make decisions without seeking constant validation.
Someone who could lead without abandoning herself.
That identity shift didn’t happen overnight. It happened through (huge) mistakes, misfires, overextensions and uncomfortable conversations, and through choosing growth even when no one was watching.
Shot Bar MedspaCourtesy of the author
Discipline Is an Act of Self-Respect
Discipline used to feel like punishment. Something rigid. Restrictive. Joyless.
Owning Shot Bar reframed my sense of discipline.
Discipline is how I protect what matters.
Discipline is how I stay steady when things feel chaotic.
Discipline is how I honor the work I’ve already done.
Weight maintenance taught me that discipline isn’t about saying no to everything. It’s about saying yes to what aligns in the long term. Business ownership reinforced that lesson daily.
I can’t say yes to every opportunity.
I can’t overextend to please everyone.
I can’t run on adrenaline forever.
The same way I can’t eat emotionally five days in a row and expect stability.
Discipline became softer. Smarter. Rooted in respect instead of fear.
Shot Bar MedspaCourtesy of the author
Confidence Comes From Evidence, Not Affirmations
Operating Shot Bar stripped me of performative confidence. There’s no room for fake it till you make it when people are trusting you with their faces, bodies and health.
Confidence now comes from evidence:
I’ve handled hard things before.
I’ve survived worse days than this.
I can make the next right decision.
That mindset mirrors how I stay grounded in my body. I don’t rely on motivation. I rely on data, routines and proof of resilience.
Owning a business taught me that self-trust is built through follow-through. Every promise you keep to yourself strengthens it. Every one you break weakens it.
That applies everywhere.
Shot Bar MedspaCourtesy of the author
Maintenance Is the Real Flex
If there’s one lesson Shot Bar and weight maintenance have taught me, it’s this: starting is brave, but maintaining is elite.
Anyone can be inspired for a season.
Anyone can sprint.
Very few people commit to the long game.
Owning Shot Bar is a long game.
Keeping weight off is a long game.
Personal growth is a long game.
The long game isn’t sexy. It’s steady. It’s boring some days. It’s lonely sometimes, but it’s deeply powerful.
I no longer chase transformation. I protect stability.
I no longer wait for motivation. I honor structure.
I no longer confuse chaos with growth.
Shot Bar MedspaCourtesy of the author
What I Know Now
Shot Bar didn’t just give me a business. It gave me a mirror, a practice and a proving ground.
It taught me that growth doesn’t mean you stop struggling. It means you struggle with better tools.
It taught me that stress doesn’t mean you’re failing. It means you’re carrying something meaningful.
It taught me that maintenance is not stagnation. It’s mastery.
Most of all, it taught me that the life I want isn’t built in dramatic leaps. It’s built in daily choices that align with who I’ve decided to become.
That decision, made over and over again, is the real work.
Shot Bar MedspaCourtesy of the author
