Today we’d like to introduce you to SK Basu.
Hi SK, thanks for sharing your story with us. To start, maybe you can tell our readers some of your backstory.
When I wrote my first article for Voyage ATL in 2023, I was in a season of growth that looked impressive from the outside. My books were full, my business was thriving, and by most standards, I was “doing everything right.” But life has a way of continuing to teach you lessons long after you think you’ve arrived.
Since then, my journey has shifted—not backward, but inward.
I’ve learned that success doesn’t always mean expansion. Sometimes it means subtraction.
Over the last couple of years, I’ve intentionally stepped away from the idea that I need to constantly grow, scale, or prove something—to myself or to the world. Social media makes it incredibly easy to feel like you’re not doing enough. Someone is always opening another location, launching another product, hitting another milestone. And if you’re not careful, you’ll start adding things to your plate simply because they look good, not because they feel right.
I’ve been there. Plenty of times and for many seasons.
At one point, I had to pause and ask myself some uncomfortable questions:
Is this actually making me happy?
Or am I chasing this because it makes me look bigger, more successful, more accomplished?
Am I building a life I enjoy—or just one that looks impressive?
Is this my dream, or someone else’s? What was your “Why?” When you chose the entrepreneurial path?
What I’ve come to realize is that the simple life is deeply underrated. All I’ve ever wanted was stability, freedom and a peace of mind..
There is so much peace in enough.
A roof over your head.
Bills paid.
Food in the fridge.
Work that feels meaningful but not consuming.
Time to rest.
Time with family.
Time to breathe.
Time to be human.
Somewhere along the way, society convinced us that if we’re not constantly doing more, we’re falling behind. That if we’re not exhausted, we’re not ambitious enough. That rest must be earned through burnout. I don’t believe that anymore.
I’m no longer interested in being part of the rat race, respectfully.
I don’t want my life to revolve around productivity, algorithms, or unrealistic expectations disguised as “motivation.” I don’t want to build something so big that I lose myself maintaining it. I don’t want success if it costs me my health, my peace, or my joy.
In this season, my mission is freedom—freedom from the grind, freedom from comparison, freedom from constantly feeling like I need to be more than I already am.
I’ve realized that Some of us never got a chance to actually enjoy life and have fun before life got too serious. I just want to enjoy my life without all of the extra characters for a change. I want to be the main character of my own universe.
That doesn’t mean I don’t take pride in all of the work I’ve done up until now or that I lack ambition, It means my ambition looks different now.
I still love what I do. I still take pride in my work. I still show up with integrity and care. But I’ve restructured my business in a way that supports my life instead of consuming it. I’m more selective with my time, my energy, and the commitments I make. I honor my capacity. I rest when I need to. I no longer feel guilty for choosing sustainability over speed.
Through intentional healing, self awareness, honesty with myself, and grounding, I’ve learned that stability doesn’t have to be loud.
That fulfillment doesn’t require an audience.
That peace is a form of success most people overlook.
At this stage of my life, I’m less concerned with proving what I can do and more focused on protecting who I am. I want a life that feels good on the inside, not just one that looks good from the outside.
Overall, This shift has totally reshaped the way I show up in my work at Skin Deep Esthetics. The space I’ve created is no longer about volume, speed, or constant availability—it’s about presence. It’s about offering care that’s thoughtful, unrushed, and rooted in respect for both my clients and myself. I want every person who lays on my table to feel what I’ve been learning to give myself: grace, safety, and room to simply be. As I continue forward, my goal isn’t to build something bigger—it’s to build something sustainable, honest, and aligned. A business that supports life, not one that demands it. And if that means choosing simplicity over spectacle, I’m at peace with that—because this chapter isn’t about proving anything anymore. It’s about living well.
If there’s one thing I hope people take from this update, it’s this:
You don’t have to chase everything placed in front of you.
You don’t have to carry more than you can hold.
You don’t have to burn yourself out to live a meaningful life.
Sometimes, enough really is enough.
And for the first time in my life, I’m learning to believe that.
Can you talk to us a bit about the challenges and lessons you’ve learned along the way. Looking back would you say it’s been easy or smooth in retrospect?
Not at all. My path has been anything but smooth, and for a long time, instability was the norm rather than the exception. I left the nest at a very young age, lived with multiple family members, and learned early how to survive without consistent support. Even as I accomplished things on paper, I often carried a sense of uncertainty and self-doubt beneath the surface.
Professionally, one of my biggest struggles was imposter syndrome—feeling like success could be taken away at any moment, or that I hadn’t truly earned it. I questioned my worth, my pricing, and whether people were choosing me because I was good at what I did or simply convenient. Family criticism at certain points added to that internal battle and forced me to confront some very uncomfortable beliefs about myself.
Physically and mentally, burnout has also been a challenge. Coming from a background where survival required constant effort, I didn’t know how to slow down without guilt. I pushed myself through exhaustion, injuries, and emotional strain because that’s what I thought strength looked like. It took time—and intention—to unlearn that pattern and realize that sustainability is just as important as ambition.
Also, some of the harder challenges weren’t external—they were actually emotional and internal. One of the most difficult parts of my journey has been choosing alignment over accessibility. Stepping back from a high-volume model meant creating distance from clients who were deeply loyal, trusting, and connected to the work I did. These were people who didn’t just come for a service—they came for the space, the safety, the ability to be human, to laugh, to put things down and leave feeling better than when they arrived. Knowing the impact I had on their confidence and well-being made that transition heavy, and at times it felt like abandonment, even though it was a necessary boundary for my own sustainability.
That decision brought a lot of guilt. I know I’m good at what I do, and I know the work I offer isn’t easily replaced. Letting go wasn’t about lack of capability or passion—it was about capacity. Learning to hold both truths at once has been challenging: honoring what I give to others while also honoring what I need for myself.
Another struggle came from perception. Choosing a slower, more intentional path meant being viewed—by some—as not fully living up to my “potential,” especially by those still deeply embedded in a grind mindset. There were moments where it felt like stepping out of the race made me appear less driven or less successful in their eyes. That was difficult to sit with, especially knowing I had the ability to operate the way they did—but simply didn’t want to.
Over time, I’ve learned that choosing a different path doesn’t negate anyone else’s success, and it doesn’t diminish my own. I’m not measuring myself against someone else’s version of achievement. I’m building a life and business that align with my values, my health, and my definition of fulfillment. That clarity didn’t come easily, but it’s one of the most valuable things this journey has given me.
So to answer the original question—has it been a smooth road? The short answer is no. Honestly, it’s been a hell no. Letting go of the grind meant letting go of external validation and an identity I once relied on: being the strong one, the hustler, the person who always pushed through no matter the cost. It forced me to confront the fear that if I slowed down, everything would fall apart and the struggle would shortly follow once again. What I discovered instead was the opposite—life didn’t crumble, it actually softened. The road hasn’t been smooth, but every challenge shaped how I operate now. Those experiences taught me resilience, self-trust, and the importance of boundaries. I don’t romanticize struggle anymore, but I respect what it taught me. It’s what allowed me to build a life and business that are not just successful, but stable, aligned, and genuinely fulfilling.
And looking back, I can see that the road wasn’t smooth because I kept adding my own bumps, believing that struggle was proof of worth rather than something I was allowed to outgrow. Now, I’m learning to walk a gentler path—one where ease isn’t earned through exhaustion, but welcomed as part of the journey ahead.
Appreciate you sharing that. What else should we know about what you do?
At the core of my work, I’m known for being skilled at every single service I offer (customized facials, brow design and waxing) as well as my authenticity. I show up as a real human within my business and on social media—open about mental health, self-advocacy, and the realities of being an entrepreneur without hiding behind perfection. I’ve spent years helping people move past shame and guilt around simply being human, and that transparency has become a big part of what people trust and connect with in me.
As I continue to evolve, I’ve come to understand that I’m a creative at heart. I’m not meant to be boxed into one lane or defined by a single role. I move intuitively, much like a butterfly, following what feels aligned rather than forcing myself into systems that don’t fit. That realization has opened up new ways for me to create and serve beyond traditional business models.
Over the summer, I hosted an event called Glamping with the Girlies on my grandparents’ 70-acre family land in Illinois. It was a deeply fulfilling experience—we explored Black history, fed cows apples picked directly from the land, shared a bonfire, watched an empowering film under the stars, and closed the weekend with meditation and yoga at sunrise. What stood out most to me was how effortless it felt to bring together. I wasn’t creating something from scratch—I was adding value to what already existed, weaving my vision into a foundation that was already rooted in legacy and purpose. The response afterward affirmed what I felt internally: this is how I’m meant to create.
I’m also currently writing a book rooted in my personal journey through divorce and healing after discovering narcissism. That experience, while painful, helped me reconnect with myself, reclaim parts of my identity that had been diminished, and rediscover my vision. Writing has become a way for me to process, reclaim my voice, and offer perspective to others navigating similar paths.
What I’m most proud of is finding and owning my voice. I’ve realized it carries weight, and I feel called to use it through speaking, podcasting, and storytelling—to influence those who may feel lost, disconnected, or disconnected from their original vision, whether they’re just starting out or finding themselves later in life.
What truly sets me apart is that I don’t aspire to do what everyone else is doing. I’m not driven by comparison or convention. I’m here to move freely, create intentionally, and influence the influencers—not by being louder, but by being aligned. That freedom, and the permission I give others to find theirs, is at the heart of everything I do.
We’d love to hear about how you think about risk taking?
This is a great question because my relationship with risk has changed a lot over time.
For a long time, I didn’t see myself as a risk-taker, even though looking back, many of my biggest life decisions were exactly that. Moving out at 14, joining the military at 18 with no real plan, walking away from guaranteed stability to start over—those weren’t calculated business risks. They were survival choices. When you grow up without a safety net, risk doesn’t always feel like bravery; it feels like necessity.
As I’ve gotten older, my view of risk has matured. I no longer believe that bigger risk automatically equals bigger reward. Some of the most meaningful risks I’ve taken weren’t about doing more—they were about doing less. Leaving environments that were profitable but unsustainable. Letting go of a full client load to protect my health and peace. Choosing alignment over approval, even when it meant disappointing people who believed I should push harder or scale faster.
One of the biggest risks I’ve taken recently has been redefining success on my own terms. In a culture that glorifies constant expansion, choosing simplicity can feel radical. Stepping away from the grind meant risking misunderstanding, judgment, and the fear of being seen as “less than” by people who equate worth with productivity. But I’ve learned that the risk of burnout, resentment, and losing myself was far greater than the risk of slowing down.
Today, I think about risk through the lens of sustainability. I ask myself: What is this costing me—not just financially, but emotionally, physically, and spiritually? If something requires me to abandon myself to maintain it, that’s no longer a risk I’m willing to take. The risks I choose now are intentional, values-driven, and rooted in long-term wellbeing rather than short-term validation.
I take risks now as an act of authenticity, trusting the natural rhythm of my life rather than forcing myself into shapes I was never meant to become.
Contact Info:
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/sk_indeep?igsh=aTJvc2dwNmU0ZWtq&utm_source=qr
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/share/187RgoeT1M/?mibextid=wwXIfr







