I’m Jenna McCarty, owner and CEO of Jenna Rae Marketing & Design.
Running a business often means moving a hundred miles an hour—answering emails, planning content, reviewing timelines, supporting clients, leading a team, and then somehow remembering to eat lunch. It’s easy to get swept up in all the doing and forget to pause and reflect on the why.
Recently, I felt that pull to stop and look back. To remember where this started. To remind myself of the purpose behind the work I love.
In 2019, I left what looked like a stable, “good” job. It was a startup where I had poured in so much of myself, but eventually realized I had nowhere left to grow. I had ideas I couldn’t explore, processes I couldn’t change, and a vision I couldn’t fully bring to life. I was creatively boxed in—and I knew something had to give.
At the same time, I was the mom of a one-year-old little girl who was watching me closely. I knew, deep down, that if I wanted to raise a daughter who believed in herself, I had to show her what it looked like to believe in me, too.
So I left. No savings. No fallback plan. Just faith, fire, and the fear that I was doing something completely crazy.
I was terrified of what people would say. I worried they’d judge me for walking away from a full-time paycheck when I had a baby at home. I worried I wasn’t good enough. I worried I’d fail. But I kept reminding myself—this wasn’t just about me anymore.
I wanted to build a business where clients didn’t just come for design or strategy—they came because they felt seen. Because they knew we cared deeply about their growth. Because working with us felt like being part of something real.
I also wanted my daughter to grow up knowing that even when something feels impossible, you keep pushing. That taking risks feels uncomfortable for a reason. Because growth lives right on the other side of it.
Now I have two daughters—both fierce, kind, and full of light. Watching them grow up in the middle of this business has been one of the greatest gifts of my life. I want them to see women who lead with integrity, own their space, and lift others as they climb.
The early days of running this business were chaotic and full of anxiety. It felt like sprinting through a maze without knowing the right direction. I had to land clients fast to stay afloat. I was building everything from scratch while battling self-doubt every step of the way. I had no safety net. Just determination.
With every stage of growth, entrepreneurship demands a new version of you.
Just when you get comfortable with one process, it changes. New clients. New challenges. New hires. Every step forward is a mix of pride and growing pains. Learning how to lead, how to support your team, how to listen, how to let go. There is so much pressure to be perfect—and no such thing as getting it all right.
But here’s the truth: I’m not perfect. I’m a business owner, a mom of two beautiful girls, a wife, a daughter, a granddaughter—and above all, a human. I have failed. I have fallen. But I’ve kept showing up. And I always will.
Today, I look around and see a company that has grown beyond what I thought possible. I have three full-time employees on payroll. I have an office. I have a team. But most of all—I have purpose. I’ve built a space where creativity is celebrated, where clients become friends, and where my daughters can see that anything is possible when you believe in yourself.
Success, to me, isn’t about numbers. It’s watching my daughters mimic the strength they see in me. It’s watching my team express themselves freely and grow into their careers. It’s giving back to my community. It’s having the power to choose my own path—and knowing the only thing standing in my way is me.
We are building a family full of powerhouse women. And I hope that when my daughters look back one day, they’ll see this business not just as a career move—but as a love letter to them.
If you’re standing at the edge of your own leap, I want you to know: it’s okay to be scared. It’s okay to question everything. But don’t let fear keep you small. You were made to do hard things.
And something good is just around the corner.
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