the paradox of identity— & releasing the need for a title

we are not niche beings.

I dropped the word design from my Instagram handle yesterday.

I’m just Autumn Hachey now. *Cue the identity crisis.*

haha, don’t worry—I’m not spiraling into an existential crisis. But if you looked at the last five years of my life, you might call it an identity crisis.

The past half-decade has been a whirlwind of transformation. I left a long-term relationship and stepped bravely out on my own, without the wildest idea about the path of deep self discovery that laid ahead.

I climbed the traditional success ladder with my interior design studio, landing the biggest project of my career: designing a hotel with my own TV show.

I grew so much from that experience—but I also placed an immense amount of pressure on myself.

The pressure I felt wasn’t just about the project itself (although there was plenty of pressure there too)—it was pressure about who I believed myself to be.

Because here’s the thing: imposter syndrome isn’t about identity—it’s about self-concept.

• Identity is what is.

• Self-concept is what you believe about what is.

I was a designer and creative director. I was leading a major full scope renovation project. I was designing a real hotel.

But my self-concept hadn’t caught up. Instead of seeing myself as someone who deserved to be there, I was questioning whether I was good enough to be seen.

That’s the paradox of imposter syndrome—it doesn’t come from a lack of ability. It comes from a distorted self-concept that hasn’t caught up with your reality.

I landed the TV show not because I was a seasoned designer with decades of experience or a prestigious degree, but because I was showing up fully as myself—designing from the heart, creating with instinct, and embodying who I already was—credentials aside.

But the moment I got the show, my self-concept shifted.

Suddenly, I wasn’t just me anymore—I was a designer on TV. And with that title came an invisible weight, an unspoken expectation.

I started to wonder if I was "a good enough designer."

If I sounded polished enough.

If I looked credible enough.

Instead of trusting the version of me that got the opportunity in the first place, I started trying to become the version I thought was required.

I placed so much importance on the title of “designer” that, at a subconscious level, I started to feel unworthy of it.

I focused more on what I didn’t know than trusting what I did.

Somewhere along the way, I stopped being the person who got the opportunity in the first place—and started trying to become someone I thought I was supposed to be.

I started designing spaces 7 years ago beginning with a (very) low-budget kitchen renovation in my tiny basement apartment. That project led me to start designing spaces for friends for free, then landing my first paying client—and eventually designing multiple short term rentals and a hotel.

From that very first pink basement kitchen up until last year, I’ve always had a design project on my plate. In some form or another whether it was an off camera design project for HGTV, styling for photoshoots, E-design clients, my own personal design projects or a full scope renovation- for the last seven years straight I’ve had a physical project I was channeling my ideas and energy into.

Self-discovery has had many chapters in my life. Over the years, I’ve tested, learned, and added so many tools and practices to my toolbelt. Mindset work, in particular, has been a key part of my evolution. So, in a moment of pure curiosity (and a nearly $10K investment), I decided to become a certified mindset coach. Not as a business move, but because I was fascinated by the art of change—how we can redesign our minds as intentionally as we design our homes. Ryan and I had already been active participants in a mindset coaching cohort and wanted to deepen our own education (selfishly, haha) so we signed up together.

When I signed up, I had no intention of switching careers. I mean why would I? I owned a successful design studio, just finished airing a 10-episode TV show about it, and had just completed my DREAM job—a HOTEL.

I was simply following my curiosities and diving deeper into my interests—a theme you’ll hear often in these entries. I was making time in between design projects to study and show up to my coaching cohort calls.

I had built a studio that was doing a lot—offering everything from branding to interior design, all full-scope 1:1 services. Every project was something I poured my entire heart and soul into, often going way above and beyond for my clients.

But I was stuck in a vicious feast-or-famine client cycle—taking on big projects for less than they should have cost, undervaluing myself and discounting my services just to fill my plate and make ends meet. It felt like I was constantly feeding this machine: I just need more clients, bigger jobs, more work, a bigger team.

And yet, no matter how much I hustled, I was still never turning a real profit and I still never felt like I was “enough”. Projects were leaving me completely burnt out and, honestly, resentful. My studio was making six figures a year—easily—but revenue is not profit. I was constantly working, constantly bending, constantly chasing, and at the end of the day, I wasn’t building something sustainable.

Since starting my personal healing journey almost five years ago, I’ve felt torn between two directions: the desire for a balanced, wellness-focused lifestyle and the fast-paced, high-energy world of my interior design studio. As I dove deeper into wellness, my core values shifted, and I began to feel more and more out of alignment with the studio I had built.

In January of last year, I knew I wanted to shift my studio model—to build something more sustainable, with predictable income and scalable offers. But instead of trusting myself to figure it out, I defaulted to a familiar pattern:

I outsourced my inner knowing.

I poured money into courses, programs, and coaches, convinced that someone else had the secret formula I needed. I kept looking for the right strategy, the right positioning, the right way to evolve—forgetting that every big opportunity I’d ever landed had come from simply showing up as me, trusting my gut and just going for it.

After months of tears and tribulations feeling completely stuck in my own head, last June I finally decided to make a full pivot.

I transitioned from running my design studio to building a coaching business—one that I am actively growing, evolving, and carving my own unique place within. And it wasn’t just a shift in career; it was a shift in identity, self concept, purpose, and creative fulfillment.

A Homecoming: Releasing the desire for definition.

After making my pivot, I stopped referring to myself as “a designer.”

Looking back, it’s almost comical—because for years, I wrestled with my self-concept as a designer.

I questioned whether I was good enough, skilled enough, experienced enough.

For the first time in forever, I didn’t have a design project to gush over—no before-and-afters to pull up on my phone, no tangible proof of my creativity.

TBH? It was really f*cking weird.

And lowkey uncomfortable when people asked, “So, what are you working on?”

Because if I wasn’t Autumn Hachey, the designer—

Who was I?

It wasn’t until recently that it ACTUALLY hit me… all the pain, the struggle, the relentless desire to be "enough" —it was all coming from me.

I was the one measuring myself against impossible standards.

I was the one tying my worth to productivity, output, perception.

I was the one searching for validation outside of myself.

It wasn’t the algorithm.

It wasn’t the industry.

It wasn’t some external force holding me back.

It was me—gripping so tightly to this notion of IDENTITY.

The need to define myself.

The fear of being undefined.

The resistance to just let go and trust that I could exist without a buttoned up label.

It wasn’t until I launched my podcast last year that I truly came back to myself—if you will.

For the first time in what felt like forever, I followed my gut without question.

I didn’t watch 100 tutorials.

I didn’t agonize over the perfect intro, the perfect music, the perfect concept.

I just started—messily.

And living in that energy—the energy of momentum, of self-trust, of simply making moves—felt like a homecoming.

It reminded me of when I launched my vintage shop almost a decade ago. MAKE MOVES ENERGY BABY.

Back then, I wasn’t overthinking.

I wasn’t second-guessing.

I wasn’t waiting for permission.

I was fully in it—believing in myself, taking messy action, focusing on what was working instead of what might go wrong.

Somewhere along the way, I had let perfectionism, imposter syndrome, and over-strategizing disconnect me from that version of myself.

Launching the podcast brought her back.

And the biggest lesson I learned along the way?

She doesn’t need to be defined.

She can evolve.

She can expand.

She is multidimensional.

She can exist without fitting neatly into a box—or an Instagram bio.

And my name? It holds enough weight on its own.

It doesn’t need a label to prove its worth.

That’s why I dropped design from my handle.

Because being Autumn isn’t about one label, one identity, or one title.

Just being Autumn Hachey is enough.

And I am (and have always been) enough.

And so are you.

You don’t need a title to prove your worth.
You don’t need a neatly packaged identity to take up space.
You are allowed to evolve, to expand, to be seen—as you are.

Because you are (and have always been) enough, too.