January: Market Mayhem, Burnout, and the Unseen Work of Building a Weird Little Business
Hello friends, lurkers, fellow exhausted creatures, and anyone reading this while physically horizontal.
January has had me running like a mad person.
Not in a “new year, new me” kind of way.
More like… a raccoon in a trench coat trying to balance seven plates, a heat pack, and a looming sense of burnout while whispering, “It’s fine. This is fine.”
After Christmas, I hit the kind of burnout that doesn’t feel dramatic so much as… inevitable. Like my body and brain quietly filing a report that says:
Hello. We are closed. Please try again never.
2025 was too busy. Too much output. Too many projects. Too much life. And January became the month of playing catch-up while also trying not to dissolve into a blanket.
Winter Markets: Or, “Where Exactly Do I Belong?”
This past season came with what I can only describe as market mayhem.
I tried a bunch of the normal markets.
And honestly?
They weren’t it for me.
42Doors is not a standard craft booth experience. I’m not selling the usual stuff. My niche isn’t “generic handmade.”
My niche is “comfort objects for tired people, with a little grunge and a little bite and absolutely no inspirational quotes.”
So some markets just didn’t land. And that’s okay.
Part of this winter was realizing I need to go in a different direction this year. Different events. Different spaces. The ones that actually fit what I’m building.
I’m starting to hit the right ones now, but first I had to get myself re-established. Known again. Rooted.
The Quiet Month Was Not Quiet
(It Was Behind-the-Scenes Chaos)
If I’ve been a little quiet lately, it’s not because nothing is happening.
It’s because January has been the month of everything you don’t see.
This month has been digging into the behind-the-scenes work like an archaeologist uncovering the ruins of my own to-do list.
There’s been:
-prototype making for market applications
-applications themselves (which all require payment up front, because of course they do)
-micromanaging myself into a functional timeline
-inventory control
-database changes
-reorganizing how I track supplies
-stalking other shops and locations like a feral business raccoon
-and generally trying to figure out what direction I’m heading and how fast I need to sprint to keep up with it
Handmade business life is so often pictured as “just making things.”
And yes.
I make things.
But I also spend an unbelievable amount of time doing invisible administrative wizardry while my brain slowly emits smoke.
The Early Years Are a Building Phase
42Doors is a real business.
But it is also still in the early stages (which feels like 32 years give or take a decade), and the first few years of a small business are often less about profit and more about investing, building, and staying afloat while everything takes shape.
We couldn’t afford to keep stretching finances while I built this, so I did the very glamorous thing that every tired entrepreneur eventually does.
I got a part-time job.
So now I’m balancing running a business… while also working a job… while also being a chronically ill person with appointments at least twice a week.
I’m playing Full-Time Existence Simulator, Hard Mode.
Surprise Side Quest: Job Hunting in 2026 as a Disabled Person
Even getting that job was its own January boss fight.
The first job I applied for sent me straight into a completely new learning curve:
How do you apply for a job when you haven’t touched a resume in fifteen years?
The last time I handed out resumes, people still wanted paper copies.
Now?
Everything is online.
There are automated systems.
AI filters.
Keyword scanners.
Your resume gets judged by a robot before a human ever lays eyes on it.
And when you’re disabled, there’s often a giant gap in your work history, because life happened. Health happened. Survival happened.
So the fun new experience this month was realizing that I’m probably getting file-thirteened by an algorithm before anyone even knows who I am.
Add in another layer:
Trying to find a workplace that can also accommodate a service dog beside me.
That is not a small thing.
That’s a whole other maze.
The First Job: Or, “I Did Not Apply to Be Anyone’s Therapist”
The first job I landed this month lasted approximately two or three days.
Maybe.
It’s hard to measure time accurately when your nervous system is actively trying to evacuate your body.
It was supposed to be fun. A little gaming store job. Something light while I balanced 42Doors.
Instead, it turned into an emotional hostage situation where I somehow became an off-hours therapist for less than minimum wage.
The boss was very open about having mental health struggles, and I truly have compassion for that.
But somewhere along the way, it became clear that “being honest about mental illness” was being used as a crutch to spill everything onto me.
Constant reassurance. Constant processing. Constant emotional caretaking.
I felt like a reluctant substitute mom, which is not a role I have ever applied for.
I tried to set gentle boundaries, like:
“Hey, this can wait until a workday when I’m actually being paid.”
But work did not stay at work.
It kept invading my life.
And at a certain point I went:
Thank you, but no.
I would rather eat dirt than volunteer for emotional overload as a job description.
I stepped down quickly, because thankfully, I have developed this new rare skill called self-respect, and I was not about to let someone dig under my skin like that. I mean, I get it, mental health is hard to navigate, but that level of support was not what I signed up for. I just wanted an easy, fun job.
So yes. That was… a chapter.
A weird little January novella.
Zero stars.
Do not recommend.
Burnout Lives Nearby (Like a Neighbor Who Never Stops Knocking)
Burnout is a thing I am on the precipice of at all moments.
Like a cartoon character tiptoeing along a cliff edge holding a hot glue gun.
Chronic illness does not pause because I have goals.
And both my husband and I are feeling the very real results of being poor for a while. We had to stop regular health sessions because we couldn’t afford them, and now that benefits are back, we’re trying to restart care.
Being poor is expensive. Being disabled is expensive. Being both is… honestly a joke the universe keeps committing to.
The Website Refresh, Branding Tweaks, and Other Invisible Upgrades
The website got a whole refresh.
I’ve been redesigning parts of my branding, rethinking social media, rebuilding the structure of how things flow.
All of that unseen maker work.
The scaffolding.
The roots.
The stuff that makes the next stage possible.
And now that most of that is caught up, or at least well on the way there, I am back in making mode like a mad person.
Because I have ideas that need to exist in the world.
And I’m so excited to share what’s coming.
Quiet Disability Products (The Ones That Don’t Look Like They Are)
One direction I’m leaning into is products that aren’t obviously disability-related.
But absolutely are.
Things like mittens and fingerless gloves.
Because Raynaud’s sucks to live with.
Comfort shouldn’t have to look clinical to be real.
The Heat Pack Origin Story (Or: This Is Not the Grunge I Signed Up For)
One day I looked at my old heat bag, the one I’ve had for years, and thought:
Oh my god.
This thing has been through surgeries with me.
Sweaty pain days.
Dropped on the floor.
Dragged across my life like an emotional support potato sack.
And then it hit me:
You can’t wash these.
So what exactly is living inside this heat bag?
This is not the kind of grunge I signed up for.
So I started making heat packs with removable washable covers. Because comfort tools should survive real life. They should not become haunted.
That’s what 42Doors is about.
Solutions for the small things.
Comfort with personality.
And Now: Goodbye January, Respectfully
So where are we now?
We are tired.
We are building.
We are adjusting.
And frankly?
I am very excited to say good riddance to January.
It has been a month.
A long month.
A month with side quests I did not request.
But we made it through.
And now?
We move forward.
My first market of the year is coming up this Friday night at the Cabinet of Curiosities, and I’m genuinely excited.
There’s more to share coming in the next few days.
More makes. More prototypes turned real. More weird little comfort objects for exhausted humans.
Thank you for being here while I build a door that’s almost impenetrable, solid enough to protect you, and soft enough to lean against when you’re tired, constructed entirely from fleece, hot glue, and pure disabled spite.
Talk soon,
Krys
42Doors
That’s not handmade!!
Curated Resale Items
I know some people come here expecting everything to be handmade by me, every time. I get that. Handmade is the heart of this business, and that isn’t changing.
But I’m also a magpie. I see cool, useful, interesting things out in the world and think, “Oh. I want that.” And if I want it, there’s a decent chance someone else might too.
Running a small business means making practical decisions. Every sale helps cover costs, fund new designs, and give me the breathing room to keep creating. Curated resale items let me support that work without lowering my standards or pretending I can do everything at once.
Nothing gets added unless it actually belongs here. Or, at least I thought it did. Mistakes may have happened. If it doesn’t feel functional, thoughtful, or a little bit weird in the right way, it doesn’t make the cut. And sometimes, people tell me what they don’t want because it sits on my shelf taking up space for way too long. Hint taken.
Transparency matters
I care a lot about being upfront. If something is a curated resale item, I say so. I’m not trying to pass anything off as handmade when it isn’t, and I trust you to decide what you’re comfortable buying.
It’s also worth saying out loud that even handmade items rely on supplies made elsewhere. Fabric, hardware, blanks, tools. None of us are operating in a vacuum. What matters to me is intention, honesty, and how things are chosen and used.
Whether you shop only handmade pieces, only curated items, or a mix of both, your support still helps this business survive and grow.
The bigger picture
This is about balance. I’m committed to creating as much as I can, sourcing thoughtfully, and staying rooted in the values that started 42Doors in the first place. Curated resale items are not the end goal. They’re a tool that helps me get there.
This is a small, disabled-owned business doing its best in a world that doesn’t exactly make things easy. Thank you for being here, for understanding the reality behind the scenes, and for supporting creativity in whatever form it shows up.
Stay weird. Stay curious. Keep it spicy.
Krys Founder, 42Doors
Exploitation of people with disabilities
When I first started talking about the idea behind 42Doors, a few people raised concerns that I might be exploiting people with disabilities. Cool. Let’s unpack that.
First things first: I, the person behind 42Doors, live with multiple disabilities. They’re recognized by both physicians and government bodies, but honestly? I don’t owe anyone a detailed breakdown of my medical history. That’s between me, my doctors, and the government offices that occasionally remind me that paperwork is its own special form of suffering.
First things first. I am the person behind 42Doors, and I live with multiple disabilities. They are recognized by doctors and government bodies, but I’m not obligated to hand over my medical history to satisfy public curiosity. That information belongs to me, my care team, and the government offices that occasionally remind me that paperwork is its own unique form of suffering.
What I will share is this. 42Doors was born out of frustration and hope. Frustration with how hard it is to find functional, comfortable, and genuinely usable products if your body doesn’t behave “normally.” Hope that I could make something better. This business is not about exploitation. It is about solving problems, building community, and making life a little easier for people who do not fit into cookie-cutter expectations.
I am also allowed to exist. I am allowed to earn an income, make a statement, and support myself. That is true even though my disabilities create real barriers to traditional employment, including getting hired in the first place. Being disabled does not mean I have to accept a miserable quality of life, and I refuse to treat that as a given.
Remember Who the Enemy Is
To borrow a line from Finnick Odair in The Hunger Games: “Remember who the enemy is.”
It is easy to direct anger at small businesses trying to do something different. It is tempting to aim our very real frustration with systemic injustice at individuals instead of the systems that actually cause the harm. But your neighbor, your friend, or your fellow disabled entrepreneur is not the one hoarding access, money, or power.
Before firing off that hot take, it’s worth asking whether it helps anyone at all, or whether it just feels easier than confronting problems that are much bigger and harder to dismantle.
Building, Not Breaking
I understand the skepticism. We have all seen companies slap the word “inclusive” on a product to cash in on communities they do not belong to or understand. That is not what 42Doors is.
This is not a corporation with a focus group approved personality. It is one exhausted disabled artist making things that solve real problems, including problems I live with myself.
If you have questions, ask them. If you have concerns, I am open to talking. But if your first instinct is to tear down instead of build up, slow your roll. There is enough injustice in the world already without creating more where it doesn’t belong.
At the end of the day, 42Doors exists because people like us deserve comfort, function, and a little bit of fun. I’m here to keep making that happen, one weird and wonderful product at a time.