Last week I shared the first 5 lessons from my 15 years in practice.
Today, I want to tell you how it actually started.
Not the “bio” version.
The real version. The one with ghost taps and awkward Denny’s breakfasts 🥐
My first clinic?
A tiny 600 sq ft office across the street from the hospital.
It was… haunted 👻 No joke—the taps used to turn on by themselves.
We had a bus stop right in front of the building, and I’d get all kinds of characters wandering in, curious about what I did.
And I?
I just wanted to tell everyone about osteopathy 🌿
Didn’t matter who—your grandma, your real estate agent, the guy selling knives door-to-door—I was ready with a pamphlet and a passion speech.
I even went to these awful BNI networking breakfasts at Denny’s (yes, Denny’s) trying to explain osteopathy over cold eggs to mortgage brokers at 7am.
It was… humbling.
I did my own reception.
I cleaned the bathroom.
And eventually, I thought, “Hey! Maybe I’ll rent out space to other practitioners!”
Cue: my first experience managing people. 😅
Let’s just say… it didn’t go well.
I still remember sitting at home after I had to let someone go ➡ a nutritionist who only brought in $300 in six months, constantly showed up late, missed appointments.
I was devastated.
I sat there, crying into Cambodian takeout, wondering if I was cut out for any of this.
But it kept growing.
Soon that little space had me plus three massage therapists.
We were full. It felt like things were clicking.
So I leveled up.
I brought on a business partner. We opened a brand-new clinic together.
We sunk over $60,000 into renovating a 2,200 sq ft space—clinic rooms, yoga studio, the works.
It was a huge move.
And a year and a half later…
My business partner walked away.
It was one of the most painful breakups I’ve ever had—professionally or personally.
Suddenly, I was running the whole thing by myself:
15 practitioners, a huge rent bill, a new office manager we’d just hired that I couldn’t afford on my own and no roadmap.
The next few years were not easy.
But they were full of growth.
And the woman I am now—the clarity, the boundaries, the vision—she was born in those moments.
So if you’re in your early years?
Or even mid-career and wondering if you’re doing it all wrong?
I promise:
- There is no wrong.
- There’s only learning.
- There’s only growth.
And some of it shows up through tears 😢 and take out boxes and haunted plumbing.
Next week, I’ll share the leadership and business mistakes I made after the dust settled (so you don’t have to repeat them).
But for now, I’d love to know:
What part of your journey has been the hardest so far?
Hit reply. I’d love to hear it.
With love, Cambodian curry 🥘, and a lot more wisdom,
Geneviève
🖤
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