What do you do when the person you love decides to blow up both your lives?
In the best possible way, I mean.
That was the position I found myself in when my wife told me she wanted her doctorate.
I’m Annie. I’m the one behind the scenes at Cedar & Sage — the one who says no so Jennifer doesn’t have to, the one who comes up with terrible ideas like “let’s post this on social media,” and, apparently, the one now writing a blog about it.
Here’s the real story. Not the ribbon-cutting version.
Four People Showed Up. I’m Calling It a Win.
We just had our first community acupuncture event.
Four people came.
That’s it. Four.
And it wasn’t for lack of trying — Instagram, Facebook, Google, Nextdoor, flyers walked door to door by hand. Still four.
For a first event, I think that’s a win. Most people have no idea what acupuncture even is, let alone community acupuncture. So — work to do. But those four people left in less pain than they walked in with.
I’ll take that. Next time I’m hoping for eight.
That’s the moment I realized this was a story worth telling. Not for recognition — just because most people have no clue what it actually takes to get something like this off the ground. The sacrifices. The stuff that happens quietly in the background while everyone else sees the finished, pretty version.
If you’re the person behind the person right now, or you’re thinking about opening your own healing practice, or you just want to follow along — I’m glad you’re here.
Why I’m Telling You Any of This
People see the finished website. The nice posts. They think, “oh, she did it, she’s successful.”
Nobody sees the spreadsheet math at eleven at night. Nobody sees the quiet, low-grade worry about whether any of this actually works.
Starting a business is hard. It’s harder when you’ve already got some years under your belt and you’re doing it in a city where nobody knows your name yet.
But it’s possible. That’s the whole point of telling this story — start to wherever it ends up. Either we come out the other side successful, or we go down trying, in a blaze of glory. Either way, you get the real version.
And if there’s one person out there who’s the quiet one, holding it together for somebody else — you’re not alone in that.
The Day She Said It
When Jennifer told me she wanted her doctorate, my first reaction was: that’s great. I want her to succeed. That’s what loving someone means.
Then the actual scope of it hit me.
New state. New friends. An entire support system, built from zero.
Four extremely unhappy cats, dragged along for the ride.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I also knew this meant I needed to keep growing too — so I went back and finished my own bachelor’s degree, right alongside Jennifer doing her thing. I was terrified of what a change like this could do to us as a couple. It puts new demands on you. It shows you what you’re each made of.
Meet Lucy
We made it to Arizona. Jennifer started school. COVID hit almost immediately.
The hardest part for her whole cohort was learning something you cannot learn through a screen — needle placement, reading somebody’s pulse. Stuff that needs actual human touch, which was completely off the table.
So for a while, she practiced on an orange.
Then she leveled up to a Styrofoam head.
Which became — I swear to you — the world’s creepiest roommate.
I’d walk into the kitchen and there she’d be, next to the coffee maker, needles in the corner of her lip. Next day she’s in the bathroom like she lived there now, a few dozen more needles added overnight.
I genuinely never knew if I was going to open the fridge and find Lucy next to my creamer, judging me for not volunteering to be the pincushion myself. All because Jennifer’s cohort wasn’t cleared to practice on each other yet.
Once restrictions lifted, the school piled on thousands of extra hours to make up for lost time. Part of me was relieved. I was happy to be a pincushion — but after living with Lucy, I was very grateful Jennifer had classmates to practice on first.
Two Locations, No Master Plan
People assume we opened two locations at once because there was some grand strategy.
There wasn’t.
One of Jennifer’s cohort became close enough to be family, and she offered to share a space with Jennifer in Scottsdale. Jennifer had already been a licensed massage therapist for thirty years by then, so the plan was: build a massage clientele while she finished the doctorate.
Didn’t go great. Scottsdale is saturated with massage — spas, solo therapists, everywhere. We disappeared into the noise.
Then came the boards. She never felt ready, no matter how much she studied. Then licensing — not hard, just slow. Real slow.
She got her license. We ran that first community event. (Four people. Remember?)
Then we got the chance to share a space with Cyndi, from Cynshine Integrative Healing, in Mesa — and we’ve watched her do incredible work. We’re proud to be part of something bigger than just us over there.
So right now: two locations, a handful of patients, one in Scottsdale, one in Mesa. Already planning the next community event. Hopefully Mesa, this time.
Scary, running two locations at once? Yeah. But it’s everything I could’ve hoped for. And then some.
What I Actually Do All Day
Sole proprietorship, partnership, LLC, PLLC, S-corp. Taxes. Licenses. Permits. SOPs. All of it costs money. All of it takes time you don’t have.
We’re both still pulling double duty growing the clinics — two jobs a day, every day, and somehow we’re both still standing. Mostly.
When somebody calls for an appointment, we don’t say “sorry, we’re too busy building an empire over here.” We’re genuinely grateful somebody chose us. If there’s any way to make it work, we make it work.
Jennifer and I don’t always see eye to eye on the business side. I think bigger picture. She protects the personal touch her dad gave his own patients. It’s probably the healthiest tension a business can have.
Me, day to day? Marketing. Financials. Social media. Phones. I’ve unclogged a toilet. I’ve chased a runaway invoice. I’ve cleaned windows. Nobody covers this in acupuncture school — basically, if it doesn’t require a license to practice, it’s my job.
The Part Nobody Wants to Talk About
We’re not looking back on our scariest financial moment. We’re living in it, right now, today. Some months come down to the wire before we know what we can actually cover.
But the scary part was never the tight months themselves. It’s not having a finish line — a date where we know we’ve landed on our own feet.
We just have faith it’s coming. That when you put good things out into the world, eventually, good things find their way back to you.
The Moment It Got Real
Jennifer had a patient come in with a pretty severe tremor. By the end of that one session, it was almost completely gone.
I’m not going to tell you that’s normal — most of the time, acupuncture’s effects build cumulatively, like a course of antibiotics. Sometimes it works overnight. Sometimes it takes sticking with it.
But watching that happen, right in front of me, was the moment this stopped being “we’re building a business” and started being “this actually helps people.”
That’s the whole point, going forward. This is for our community.
What I Wish Somebody Had Told Me
Start the process while she’s still in school. Don’t wait for the diploma to start building. Start the marketing early. Talk about the business to literally anyone who’ll listen. Get people used to hearing the name long before the doors open.
And don’t be shy about it.
Shy doesn’t get you patients. Shy doesn’t get you clients. Shy just gets you overlooked.
Say the name. Say it again. Then say it one more time.
Next time on Behind the Needles: the story of loading four hysterical cats into one dog crate, driving cross-country to a rental apartment we’d never actually seen — and what happened when we got there. (Spoiler: never rent site-unseen.)
Find us at cedarandsageacupuncture.com or follow along at @cedarandsageacupuncture.