Balancing Health Challenges While Running a Handmade Business

Artist Lisa Ramos at the Marin Arts & Craft Show wearing a MONOLISA leather flower accessory

Artist Lisa Ramos at the Marin Arts & Craft Show wearing a MONOLISA leather flower accessory.

Newer story: I recently shared an update on slowing down and healing — including watching a hummingbird nest outside my window. Read the latest story here .

When I started MONOLISA in 2017, I felt ready. Not because I had everything figured out—but because life had already pushed me through some hard things. Getting cancer at 33. Growing up with dyslexia and constantly trying to keep up. Those experiences shaped how I move through the world. They taught me how to endure, how to adapt, and how to keep going even when things feel uncertain and scary.

At the time, I didn’t question whether I could build a business—I just did it and knew that if I kept at it, I had a chance at success. I worked long days, figured things out as I went, and trusted the process. There’s something very raw about starting a handmade business. It’s not just creative—it’s physical, mental, emotional. And most of it, especially in the beginning, you do alone.

What I didn’t fully understand back then was what my body was already holding. I had ongoing pain—my back, hips, feet—and some gut issues that never quite made sense. I pushed through it because that’s what I had always done.

It wasn’t until years later that I learned so much of it was connected to pelvic floor dysfunction—something tied back to my cancer treatments and surgeries. I didn’t even know what that was at the time, let alone how much it could impact everything.

As my business grew, so did the physical demands. More creating. More shows. More lifting, standing, driving. And slowly, without really noticing it at first, things started to shift. What used to feel manageable became harder. What I could once push through… I couldn’t anymore.

In 2025, I hit a breaking point.

It wasn’t just discomfort anymore—it was my body forcing me to stop and pay attention. That was hard to accept. Really hard. I had built something I loved, something I worked so hard for, and suddenly I had to face the reality that I couldn’t operate the same way anymore.


Hummingbird Sitting On Her Eggs Outside My Bedroom Window.

What Changed in My Daily Life and Work

This year, I’ve had to step back.

Even writing that feels heavy. Because I don’t want to step back. I love what I do, and I truly feel it’s my purpose to create and connect with the art community. I love creating. I love shows. I love connecting with customers. But my body isn’t giving me a choice right now. Over time, these changes have also shown up physically—I’ve lost about 30 pounds as my body has been working through these challenges.

My days look completely different. I no longer have those long stretches in the studio where I lose track of time and just create. Those 8-hour days where everything flows… they’re gone for now. Instead, I work in smaller windows—on days when I feel okay enough to do it. And some days, I don’t.

There’s a lot more rest now. More time connecting to nature—like watching a mother hummingbird tend to her two eggs outside my bedroom window. Taking short walks near the creek and noticing what I used to overlook. Reading autobiographies in the quiet early mornings and evenings when I can’t sleep, with my warm heating pad. A lot more listening to my body, focusing on healing. And a lot more patience than I ever thought I’d need.

Artist Lisa Ramos with a MONOLISA Customer at the Crocker Holiday Artisan Market

Artist Lisa Ramos at the Crocker Artisan Holiday Market with a MONOLISA Customer.

What People Don’t See

From the outside, it looks like a finished booth. Beautiful handbags. Jewelry displayed neatly. A business that feels put together.

What people don’t see is everything underneath that.

The early mornings. The applications. The constant learning. The trial and error. The physical strain. The moments where your body is hurting, but you still have to show up and be “on.”

They don’t see what it takes just to function some days.

There are mornings I have to wake up at 2 am or 3 am just to manage my digestive system before leaving for a show. That’s not something you see when you walk into a booth. But it’s part of my reality—and not always sustainable.

And that kind of routine—it wears on you. Physically and mentally, no matter how positive you try to stay.

We all experience stress, but it’s how our bodies respond to it that can make all the difference.

In my case, years of physical trauma—multiple pelvic surgeries, early menopause, and significant hormonal shifts—have changed how my body responds to it.

Sharing my personal health struggles has also created unexpected connection. I’ve met other artists and customers who are going through their own challenges, and we find ourselves talking, sharing, and genuinely caring for one another.

My years of struggling with learning differences have also made it harder for me to recognize what’s truly sustainable. I’m so used to things feeling uncomfortable or difficult that I don’t always realize when something isn’t working.

I’m learning now that that’s not a healthy way to keep going.

Artist Lisa Ramos with MONOLISA Customer at the Marin Arts & Craft Show

Artist Lisa Ramos at the Marin Arts & Craft Show with a MONOLISA Customer.

What Slowing Down Has Taught Me

But something interesting has come out of this too.

After years of doing this work, I know what I’m doing. I trust my design decisions. I don’t second-guess everything the way I used to. Years of developing my skills have prepared me for this slower pace. I move faster when I do have the energy. I understand what resonates with my customers and what doesn’t. Even when I’m not working, I find myself dreaming about new collections and pieces with excitement.

So while I’m physically doing less… I’m operating with more clarity than I ever have before.

That part has surprised me.

The hardest shift, though, hasn’t been the business—it’s been my health.

In 2025, my pelvic floor dysfunction became more aggressive. My digestion started breaking down in ways that felt scary and confusing. My body was constantly tight, constantly under stress, and it started affecting everything—how I eat, how I sit, how I move.

Eating meals is often a struggle now, with stomach aches and cramping. I’m constantly working on accepting that the way I used to feel around food just isn’t my reality right now.

I’m also learning to accept that this isn’t something that can be fixed with a supplement or a quick answer. These kinds of health issues often involve a mix of environmental, physical, and mental factors. Trying to navigate that means trusting world-renowned doctors, doing my own research, being open to new testing and advancements, and thoughtfully trying different approaches while following the treatments and guidance they provide.

Looking back now, I can see how the physical nature of my work—and the constant stress—played a role. We all experience stress, but it’s how our bodies respond to it that can make all the difference. The heavy lifting, the setup, the long days, the driving—it all adds up. But when you’re building something, you don’t think about that. You just keep going and get caught up in the excitement of it all.

Artist Lisa Ramos with MONOLISA Customers at the Clayton Art & Wine Festival Show

Artist Lisa Ramos at the Clayton Art and Wine Festival with a MONOLISA Customer.

How My Business Had to Adapt

I’ve had to change how I work.

I can’t do 8–10 hour studio days anymore. That’s just the truth. Now, I aim for shorter periods of physical creating—sewing, bench work, production—and I space those out throughout the week depending on how I feel.

There are still parts of the business I can do for longer—writing, designing, working on my website, planning. Those I can do from a more supported, comfortable position.

But the hands-on work—the part I love the most—that’s what I have to be careful with.

Over time, I’ve built strong systems that help me keep going. I document everything. I record my processes. I leave detailed notes, photos, and videos for myself to refer back to.

I’ve learned that I can’t rely on memory alone—especially with dyslexia—so I’ve created my own way of working that supports me, builds confidence, and reduces stress.

Sometimes I’ll sit down to create and watch my own videos just to get back into the rhythm. It sounds funny, but it works.

These systems allow me to step away… and then come back without starting over—or creating anxiety that can really affect my gut.

Artist Lisa Ramos with a MONOLISA Customer at the San Carlos Art and Wine Faire

Artist Lisa Ramos at the San Carlos Art Faire with a MONOLISA Customer.

Letting Go of What I Used to Do

I’ve had to be more selective with art shows and festivals.

That was another hard shift. For years, I said yes to everything—regardless of the physical strain. I was focused on building a client base and understanding my market. Having a heavy show schedule gave me incredible insight into building a business—learning what people respond to and shaping my work around those real experiences.

I pushed. I showed up. I built my business that way. I remember one year I did 46 shows—many of those were two days, some three.

Now, I choose differently.

I focus on shows that make sense—not just financially, but physically. Shows where I can come home at night. Shows where I know my customers will be. Shows that feel aligned. Shows where I enjoy being part of the artist community and connecting with an audience that truly appreciates handmade work.

I’ve stepped away from most of the large-volume events I used to do. And honestly… that was emotional. It felt like letting go of a version of myself.

But at the same time, something else is opening up. A slower pace. A different kind of enjoyment. Maybe even a shift toward something that looks a little more like balance.

I’m not fully there yet. I’m still a work in progress.

I still love creating. I still love being at shows. That part of me hasn’t changed. I will continue to create—just at a different pace.

I’m learning how to do it differently now.

Artist Lisa Ramos with MONOLISA with Customer at the Sonoma Holidazzle Festival - in Sonoma, California

Artist Lisa Ramos at an Art Show In Sonoma, California with a MONOLISA Customer.

The Support That Helps Me Keep Going

My struggles have also reminded me how lucky I am. I have a caring husband who has been there every step of the way through my health challenges, always willing to help in any capacity—listening to me when I’m struggling, cooking special meals, going grocery shopping, talking to doctors, taking me to appointments, giving me space to heal, and understanding when I don’t have the strength for social activities.

This year, he’ll be helping me by driving and with loading in and out at my shows—which helps tremendously.

Driving to shows has always been a huge source of stress for me—the uncertainty of getting in and out while other vendors are setting up, and then figuring out parking afterward. Even the distance I have to walk can be a challenge some days.

It’s something I had to work through, because I’ve always been very independent and not used to leaning on others. But I know it will reduce the physical stress, and I still get to share part of the experience with my favorite person in the world.

I’m also incredibly grateful for my besties, Jen and Concetta, who have known me for nearly 50 years. They’ve supported me through so many years of health challenges. They have been there since day one of my business—over the past 8.5 years—coming to my shows and supporting me by purchasing some of my very first pieces. They are patient, giving me space when I need it, and always there when I need them most—understanding my needs like booth seating, early dinners, and simply listening when I’m really struggling.

When I look back on some of my most difficult experiences, I can see how much they’ve shaped me—building strength, teaching lessons I couldn’t have learned any other way, and opening doors I never expected. I’m looking forward to new experiences at a slower pace in life, and I’m excited to see what that will bring.

“My health challenges have taught me patience, how to adjust to constant change, and how to keep working at staying hopeful.”

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