Integration Therapy Turns One: What a Year of Building Taught Me
- Rebecca Avery
- May 12
- 4 min read
Summary: This week marks one year since I launched Integration Therapy, a company I built after realizing I no longer wanted to prop up broken systems inside legacy media orgs. In the past 12 months, I’ve lived through personal loss, global travel, industry milestones, and the slow, surreal shift from consultant to founder. I’ve made mistakes, built frameworks, started developing IP, and learned more than I ever expected about time, values, and what it really means to build something that’s mine.
Captain’s log. May 12, 2025. Tomorrow marks the one-year anniversary of Integration Therapy.
When I started this company, I wasn’t 100% sure I wanted to step away from full-time employment. I’d been loyal. I’d played by the rules. I had worked at companies that promised stability and rewarded chaos. And like so many others, I got laid off when leadership failed to navigate success.
What I was sure of was this: I didn’t want to keep selling my time to organizations that refused to evolve. I didn’t want to keep propping up broken systems from inside the machine. I wanted to build something better. I wanted to fix what was fixable and stop pretending that dysfunction was a strategy.
So I took a deep breath and jumped.
What a Year
Here’s what happened in the year that followed:
I lost a parent - an abusive one. The grief is still complicated.
I learned my mother has advanced Alzheimer’s and helped move her into memory care.
I traveled to Africa. It rearranged my inner compass.
My sister and I became stewards of our family trust.
I adopted two feral kittens. They are now the boss of me, and live rent-free in Ruby's head.
I walked hundreds of miles with Ruby, who remains my anchor.
I became Chair of the Metadata Working Group at the Streaming Video Technology Alliance.
I joined OTT.X and became an unofficial bridge between two influential ecosystems.
I landed my first consulting clients with my new core services.
I created a framework for media operations - A five-part flywheel I now build everything around.
I started developing intellectual property and laying the groundwork for internal proprietary tools.
I spoke at NAB. I booked my first paid speaking gigs. I started publishing articles that sound like me.
I enrolled in a master’s program in Organizational Management and Leadership. I’ll finish in October.
That list doesn’t even cover the quiet things. The nights I stared anxiously at my runway projections. The emails I didn’t send because I knew they weren’t aligned. The days I chose rest because my body is not a machine. The hours I spent building trust with clients, with collaborators, and with myself.
This year has been the wildest mix of grief, growth, and momentum. And somehow, in the middle of it all, I crossed a threshold.
I realized I’m not just a consultant anymore.
I’m a founder.
The Shift
That realization didn’t come like a flash. It came quietly, like a change in weather as I was winding down on a Sunday evening. I could just somehow feel it - this thing I'm building has legs. It has value. It is bigger than just my time. This is the beginning of something that will scale and evolve, and matter.
That moment felt surreal, like stepping through a doorway I had unknowingly built myself.
I have told the founders of every startup I’ve worked for, six of them, that being a founder looked like the worst job in the world. And some days, it is. Some days, it’s exhausting. Lonely. Risky. Confusing.
But here’s the thing.
Even on the hardest days, I know the struggle is mine. I’m not building someone else’s dream. I’m building my own. That kind of pain still moves you forward. And that, to me, is worth it.
What I’ve Learned
This year has taught me a lot. Some lessons were gentle. Others came in swinging. Here are a few that stuck:
Your skill set has exponential value when you’re in the right room.
Shared values change everything. They create trust. They fuel momentum.
You do not have to swing at every pitch. Energy is finite. Discernment is power.
People respond to integrity. When you’re grounded in your own values, they open up. They share better ideas. They listen more closely.
Asking for help is not weakness. It is wisdom. Almost nothing is worth doing all by yourself.
Cold outreach is not my ministry. I tried it. It flopped. We move on, humbled.
Data is not scary. Not knowing what’s going on is the real monster under the bed.
Financial reviews, runway math, and profitability reports feel punishing when you're working on them, but they are the things that allow you to build a winning company.
Time is not a resource to manage. It is a boundary to honor. The day you learn what that means is the day your life changes for the better.
And this one is big:
I figured out what I want to be doing when I’m 75. I want to be on the boards of Series E media and technology startups. I want to be doing selective, thoughtful coaching and consulting for people who are trying to solve hard problems in smart ways. I want to be a clear voice in noisy rooms.
So now, every decision I make is helping me become that woman.
Looking Ahead
I’m not wondering if this company will work anymore. I’m wondering how big it can get. The diagnostics I’ve built are turning into tools. The IP I’ve been refining is turning into assets. The company I started as a career placeholder is turning into a strategic platform.
Integration Therapy is a real business. One that delivers results. One that solves expensive problems. One that I plan to grow, mature, and make operationally autonomous.
This is only year one. But it already feels like a life’s work in motion.
To everyone who’s been part of this year: Thank you.
To everyone watching from the sidelines: Cheer louder. It helps. I love you for it. From future me to today's me: Keep going. The work is worth it.
All the best,
Rebecca
