As I built out the lab and trained my staff, it became obvious that if I was going to continue down this path, I needed more than just help—I needed a community. I felt isolated, like I was on my own island, and honestly, the more positive feedback I got, the more nervous I became. Was I really on the right track? What was I doing?
One pain cream turned into four. I added a pet line. I was burning through toner and ingredients at a crazy pace, and every new label brought a new problem. Out of desperation, I called my cousin in Texas, who I knew worked with signage. Maybe he had a label guy? Turns out, he actually had a label machine in his warehouse. He offered to make my labels at a super low cost to see if it was a line of business he wanted to pursue. It was a win-win.
Chapter 3 Lesson: Plant ingredients aren’t like pharmaceuticals. You can’t patent a plant, and they have multi-purpose healing qualities—even if we can’t legally say so. Formulating is expensive. It’s more important to define what you want your product to do, find 80 ingredients that could do it, and work backward. Making a bunch of different plant formulas is the fastest way to lose money. You have to know your true overhead.
So we started branding and labeling. I had no idea what I was doing. Every employee was involved—naming, scent, what worked and what didn’t. Patients would come in hoping for a consult. There was even talk of naming products after the patients they were created for. It was chaos. Newspapers wrote articles, my consult schedule filled up, and we were making batches of 30 at a time, always with the added stress of preservation and safety. It stopped being fun and started feeling overwhelming. One night, I came home from the lab in tears because a single temperature mistake ruined $400 worth of ingredients. Every label had to be approved by an attorney, and every time, something had to change. It was exhausting, expensive, and not at all what I imagined. Was this really what I wanted?
Still, I kept going. I knew I needed support. So back to Dr. Google I went, wondering if there was an academic society for aromatherapy or herbalism like there was for acupuncture or functional medicine.
That’s when I found the Alliance of International Aromatherapists (AIA), the National Association of Holistic Aromatherapy (NAHA), and the American Herbalists Guild. Suddenly, I wasn’t alone. I recognized teachers and authors I’d learned from. They all had their own academic designations, so I set my sights on earning all three, in addition to my Registered Aromatherapist credential. At that point, I felt like a bit of a fraud—imposter syndrome was real. Plant medicine was considered “aloe for burns, chamomile for sleep”—nothing like where the science is now.
For one of these designations, I needed a Pathophysiology course. Since my degree was in the arts, not sciences, I enrolled at University of New England, where I dissected “overnighted” specimens on video with my family pitching in at the kitchen table. It actually became a fun family project.
NAHA was holding a conference in Utah in a few months. I hadn’t traveled alone in years, but Chris and I agreed it would be good for the business. So off I went. I forgot pajamas and had to Amazon sweatpants to my hotel—a true hot mess express. But my mind was blown by the sheer scale of the industry. So many paths, so many moving parts. I fell in love with aromatherapy conferences—a beautiful way to learn.
I realized everyone had their own “method.” It wasn’t a negative, just thought-provoking from a legal standpoint. Was any of this trademarked? I’d been toying with “Functional Aromatherapy” and decided to trademark it, even though I wasn’t sure where it would lead. I started working with Dr. Hall to develop blends for specific functions in the body. To this day, I’ve never shared the science, but it worked for Dr. Hall, and that was enough. Now we had a line of rollerballs.
Chapter 3 Lesson: Not everything needs to be a new project. Clarity is key. It’s better to perfect five products than have fifteen that are just okay.
Meanwhile, Chris and our marketing manager were brainstorming, and I had more projects—like a new one for prostatitis. I was uncomfortable with the internal use aspect and made that clear, but the doctors found a group of men willing to try. After a lot of discussion, we came up with a plan. They all signed off, no money changed hands, and I got to work.
That project was eye-opening. I learned that plant medicine can be both gentle and powerful, but also why so much regulation exists. The health outcome was a success, but the manufacturing and formulation process was a nightmare. These are the kinds of projects the FDA will shut down if you try to go retail.
Chapter 3 Lesson: If you’re developing a product business, decide early: water-based or not. It’s easier to stay in one lane.
There was talk about entering a new market in a vacation town 45 minutes away. I wasn’t thrilled, but it made financial sense. After a few weeks, the team decided it wouldn’t work. Secretly, I was relieved.
After ten years, Dr. Hall left for a new opportunity. We started searching for new doctors, which was confusing and time-consuming. I obsessed over my formulations and signed up for more classes.
By 2019, AIA had another conference. I was frustrated with them—I’d been denied their Clinical Aromatherapist certification because I took my CPR class online, not in person, even though the state accepted it. To this day, I’m still not a member of their Clinical Certification for that reason.
At that conference, I was introduced to the AIA Executive Board. They started asking me business questions, and the next thing I knew, I was the new Treasurer. I still don’t know why I said yes, but it changed my world. Chris thought I was crazy.
Meanwhile, inventory and production issues drove me nuts. I couldn’t keep pain creams in stock—they’d sell out within days. I searched for solutions and remembered a company from NAHA that made pre-made bases. I checked their website and found bases with some of my ingredients already included. I started mixing bases to get the exact formula I wanted—making things harder than they needed to be, but I was determined.
Production time was cut in half, yields were higher, and—after testing—efficacy actually improved. That led me down an herbal extract rabbit hole, so I earned my Medicinal Herbs Certification from Cornell. I considered the Registered Herbalist certification, but decided it wasn’t necessary and focused on more targeted classes.
With more education and a simpler, more scalable product line, we built a website and launched online.
Chapter 3 Lesson: When building a website, add 45% to your estimated total cost. Every step has a price tag. What worked for me (hello, Gen X) was mapping out every page on printer paper first and making it functional before building. That’s when you realize how many extra apps you’ll need.
The website didn’t bring in as much as the practice, but there was talk of getting the pain creams into local shops. When my marketing manager said, “You’re in Mt. Dora, front window,” I was floored. The team was excited—this was supposed to be the big break. Outwardly, I smiled. Inside, I was dreading retail. At the time, I agreed it was the right move. Looking back, it was one of many landmines I’d hit. Every time I dug myself out, there was another.
Branding, logos, legal, cure claims, no cure claims. The shop was only 80 square feet—tiny. When you only have a few jars, you realize how small you really are. We mixed oils into everything from facial products to shampoos, just to see what worked.
Paint colors, deposits, money going out everywhere. How was I going to make it back? I didn’t have an answer until things slowed down—and when they did, it was for a reason none of us expected.
On “Opening Day,” Gov. DeSantis closed the state for the pandemic. It was just me, my store, and all this money tied up in something I didn’t know would ever open.
How do you open an aromatherapy store when people can’t even breathe near each other?
At least I had AIA. Everything else just… stopped. What a wild ride.
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