Taking It Personally Was Never the Problem

I was reminded today of something that happened about six or seven years ago while I was working as a program manager for a optics shop.

At the time, I was working in a factory environment doing some genuinely fascinating work. We were making advanced optics. Think telescope lenses, but far more complex and precise. These were not mass-produced items. Instead of making five hundred or a thousand units, we were making ten at most. Sometimes fewer. These were emerging technologies, experimental by nature. You do not make a thousand experimental widgets. You make a handful, test them, learn from them, and adjust.

The work was incredibly precise. Highly trained technicians studying three-dimensional surface maps of lenses. Machines shaving off microscopic amounts of material. It required time, focus, and skilled labor. And it ate up manpower and machine time.

The problem was that the factory was already behind on the large production programs. The ones making thousands of units that needed to ship yesterday. So I was constantly stuck at the wrong end of the stick. Do you prioritize catching up on high-volume production to meet customer deadlines, or do you allocate time to this small, experimental program that might not even make it to full production?

Eventually, I hit a breaking point.

I was behind on my schedules. I could not even confidently promise dates to my customer anymore. And yet, I was still expected to. Every time I gave a date, we missed it. It started to feel like an integrity issue for me. I cared deeply about this work, because it mattered. It was the kind of technology that could potentially save lives.

So I went to my boss. I was professional, but I was clearly frustrated. I told him that this situation was bothering me on a deeper level.

He looked at me and said, “Kristian, you’re taking all of this too personally.”

I stopped cold.

What I eventually said back to him was this: If I did not take this personally, you would not want me on your team. Taking it personally is what gives me the drive to do well. It is what makes me care about outcomes, customers, and doing things the right way.

That mattered to me then, and it still does now.

I eventually left that role, not because of that conversation, but because life changed. I moved into a position I was initially passionate about. Then my family situation shifted dramatically. One of my daughters was hospitalized for six weeks. After that, she spent another three or four months withdrawing from the medications that had kept her alive. They were necessary, powerful drugs, but the recovery was long and exhausting.

Then I had two babies, almost back to back, eighteen months apart. None of it was bad, but all of it was consuming. My passion slowly drained away. I became someone who went to work, did her job, and came home. I was competent, reliable, and disconnected.

And that is where I stayed for a while.

Recently, I found myself contemplating a move to another company. That alone was terrifying. I have been with this company for almost seventeen years. It is my entire career. So I did what felt responsible. I called my boss and told him I was expecting an offer from another company. I asked him honestly if there would be new or challenging opportunities for me if I stayed. I told him I was in a professional funk. The work was too easy. I wanted to grow again.

His answer was essentially no, unless I wanted to start coming into the office five days a week instead of working remotely most of the time. That was not realistic for me, especially since my work location had changed during this role to the exact place I had left to go to the optics shop (think 50+ minutes stuck in traffic each night - not the hell I want to visit).

And that clarity changed everything.

Now, as I prepare to move into a new organization, I feel something I have not felt in a long time. Excitement. Passion. Hope. I am a rising star, I always have been in my career, until this manager. These are people who genuinely want me. They tell me that. Repeatedly. And after years of feeling like a burden because of my family circumstances, that means more than I expected.

The family chaos has settled. The season has changed. And I am ready for what comes next.

This is why I believe so deeply in marking transitions. Luxury photography for women is not just about looking beautiful. It is about honoring seasons of growth, sacrifice, and renewal. Portraits become a way to say, this mattered, I mattered, and I am stepping forward with intention.

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Life is messy and loud and beautiful, and so are you. At Kristian Hutchings Portraits, I’ve built an experience that takes you out of the everyday and into a space where you’re pampered, posed, and celebrated. From professional hair and makeup to portraits you’ll treasure for a lifetime, this is more than photos, it’s a chance to finally put yourself first.

Kristian is a mom of six, Program Manager by day, active Professional Photographer by trade, and a big believer in finding beauty in the everyday chaos.

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Life in our house is loud, messy and full of literally everything. Love, noise, laundry, laughter, and definitely could use a bit more grace. I'm happily married to my best friend, grounded in my Catholic faith, and fueled by five to six hours of sleep per night and adrenaline.

I try to find joy in the everyday, even when it's wild, because without the little bit of joy, this life would be unbearable. This space is for the moms in the middle of it all, the ones juggling family, faith, work, and wonder. The ones that need someone else's messy life to make their own seem better or somewhat normal. You're not alone, and you're doing better than you think.

Welcome to Six Sweet Smiles, where we celebrate the mess, the miracles, and everything in between.