If you’ve followed my journey, you know that I’ve spent the past eight years running Blackwell & Jennings, a commercial interior design firm specializing in wellness spaces. I poured my heart into it; designing Planned Parenthood clinics, dental offices, boutique medical practices, and even a few gyms.
But somewhere along the way, I stopped hearing my own voice. I was burned out, overworked, and trying to hold it all together as a single mom, designer, and the only parent my two daughters have known since I lost my husband ten years ago.
It seemed like I was always searching for answers….
Cold-Capping
They freeze your head so you can keep your hair.
Then came breast cancer. A routine checkup turned into a life-altering diagnosis.
I was in Costco when the oncologist called. I didn’t even know what an oncologist was at the time. What followed was a blur of chemo, radiation, cold capping, steroids, fatigue, and a cancer drug I have to take for five years. It messed with my body, my skin, my memory. And it lit a fire under the parts of me I’d been pushing down.
One of the hardest parts of that chapter was something most people don’t even know about -cold capping. I chose to cold cap in hopes of keeping my hair during chemotherapy, but what that really meant was enduring another layer of trauma on top of everything else.
Each session began with a full hour of prep, wetting my hair, layering on conditioner, applying a tight, freezing cap. When they first put it on, I cried. It was excruciating. It wasn’t just cold, it was pain. That freezing pain came back every time I sat in the chemo chair. And even with all that effort, I still lost half my hair. You’ll see some of those photos in this post.
Ringing the bell once I finished chemo.
What most people also didn’t know at the time is that I was working full-time throughout all of it. I didn’t stop. I completed one of my largest commercial design projects to date, a brand-new Planned Parenthood in Winston-Salem all during my chemotherapy and radiation treatments. At the same time, I was also working on the launch of Truss Vet, a wellness-forward veterinary startup with a bold vision and an aesthetic that challenged all the old rules of animal care spaces.
Radiation in the morning.
Taking care of design clients in the afternoon.
And I didn’t tell my clients I was sick. I didn’t want them to see me differently. I was afraid they’d think I couldn’t keep up, or that I wouldn’t be able to carry the weight of their projects. So I pushed through, quietly, privately, professionally.
When I finished my final chemo treatment, I rang the bell. It felt surreal: relief, exhaustion, pride, fear. I took myself on a short trip to Florida as a kind of personal reward. That trip was more than a getaway…it was a pause. A breath. A needed exhale after months of pretending to be okay. And not long after that, I adopted a dog. A sweet Chihuahua named Tiller, who ended up being such a grounding little soul and helped me come back into my body. His presence helped me heal in ways that therapy couldn’t.
Before and after treatments.
Somewhere between the chemo chair and the design studio, something cracked open. I started painting again. Journaling again. Pulling tarot cards like I used to. Getting back to astrology. Not just as a curiosity, but as a compass. My mornings became rituals again. A candle. A card pull. A sketch. A breath.
I knew I needed to shift. I hired a business coach, LuAnn Nigara, the podcaster from the well know “A Well Designed Business”. LuAnn is an absolute powerhouse in the interior design world. I worked with her for six months in her chairman of the board program. She’s smart, strategic, and an incredible support for women building design firms. But halfway through our work together, I read a book that turned my world inside out: A Radical Guide for Women with ADHD by Sari Solden and Michelle Frank. Reading that book was like someone finally handed me the blueprint to my own brain.
Luann Nigara and I at High Point Market
For most of my life, I had no idea I was living with undiagnosed ADHD. The book explained how it shows up in women and how it hides behind perfectionism, burnout, and people-pleasing. It also made something very clear: people with ADHD can’t be boxed in. We can’t be told to “niche down” or “pick a lane.” Our creativity demands more space. We are multi-passionate by design.
The next day, I got on a Zoom call with LuAnn and said, “I can’t do this. I don’t want to be an interior designer anymore.”
At least, that’s what I thought at that moment. I was so burned out and overwhelmed that I couldn’t see how to reconcile my creativity with my career. But over time, I realized: I don’t need to walk away from interior design completely. I just need to be doing it on my terms, with clients and projects that truly light me up.
That clarity brought me to a deeper truth: I’ve done some of my most meaningful work with nonprofit and trauma-informed organizations, like Planned Parenthood. I’ve designed nearly a dozen locations across the South and worked with leaders who now hold regional titles at Planned Parenthood of Southern California. That work matters. It always will.
And now I understand why it matters so much to me. I’m a trauma survivor too.
I don’t talk about this part often, but I’m ready now. I’m a sexual abuse survivor. I’ve been healing this part of myself for my entire adult life, through therapy, through yoga, through rest, through art. That healing journey hasn’t been linear, and it hasn’t been easy. But it’s deeply shaped who I am, how I move through the world, and what kind of work I choose to do.
It’s also what gives me such a grounded, thoughtful approach to designing trauma-informed spaces. I don’t just understand trauma from a theoretical or clinical perspective. I’ve lived it. I know how much the environment around us matters when we’re healing. I know what it feels like to crave safety, softness, and dignity in the spaces where we receive care. That’s why the work I’ve done for organizations like Planned Parenthood, and the trauma-informed design principles I plan to bring into my upcoming projects, like the one for a behavioral health public healthcare clinic in Granville and Vance counties, NC. These projects all mean so much to me.
My finished project.
Working with the Planned Parenthood team is always a joy!
So when I say I’m launching a new brand, Heather Jennings Lifestyle, it’s not just about aesthetics. It’s about honoring the full spectrum of who I am and creating space for others to do the same. Through art. Through design. Through astrology. Through self-expression and rest and ritual.
This brand is where art meets healing. It’s where wellness meets poetry. It’s for the women who have been through it. For the ones rebuilding. For the ones still seeking. It’s for the shapeshifters who refuse to choose just one thing. It’s for me. And it’s for you.
You’ll still see interior design from me, but only when it feels aligned, especially in healthcare and wellness spaces that value trauma-informed design. I’ll also be releasing original artwork (some with poetry), sharing astrology-inspired collections, writing more blog posts like this, and eventually offering guided art sessions, astrology workshops, and self-care tools.
I hit the beach after finished chemo!
If you’ve made it this far, thank you. Truly. I’m so grateful you’re here for this next chapter.
With love and healing energy,
Heather
