This narrative, recounted in the first person and adapted from a conversation with Kelly Withers—aged thirty-six, residing near Detroit, and the visionary behind the yoga mat startup Carmu—has been carefully edited for clarity and conciseness. What follows reflects her voice and experience, expanded to illuminate the extraordinary course of her personal and professional transformation.
Roughly seven years ago, while still navigating her twenties, Kelly found herself at an emotional and financial crossroads. Recently divorced and the single mother of two young children, then only two and three years old, she faced the realities of parenting without any external support. She had no home of her own, no steady employment, and no clear plan for the future. Overwhelmed but determined, she began generating ideas with urgency—grappling with a relentless inner question: how could she provide stability and care for her children when she felt entirely alone? That sense of solitude and pressure became both a burden and a motivator.
At the time, Kelly was working as a restaurant photographer, helping local establishments cultivate their brand identities through compelling visual images. Her life changed, however, after attending a yoga class for the first time in a long while. She immediately noticed the uniformity around her—every participant on nearly identical mats and dressed in indistinguishable outfits. The sight felt sterile to her, devoid of the individuality that her own mother had always celebrated. Kelly’s mother had instilled in her a belief in self-expression and authenticity, urging her children to embrace what made them different. Observing that room full of sameness stirred something creative within Kelly: if she was already immersed in design for work, why couldn’t she design something for herself? She returned home inspired, resolved to create a yoga mat that reflected her personal style and spirit—something vibrant, unique, unmistakably hers.
She spent weeks sketching and organizing her initial orders. Yet, just as she prepared to finalize production, the world shifted. The pandemic struck unexpectedly, freezing the very foundation of her livelihood. Restaurants closed overnight, and with them vanished her photography clients. It was a devastating blow—professionally and emotionally—and she again faced the daunting reality of supporting two small children without an income. Panic set in, but so did resolve. She decided to pivot, teaching herself the principles of technology design in search of more sustainable work. From what she had always been told, entering the corporate realm promised the kind of financial security and steady routine she desperately needed.
Unable to afford a formal design boot camp, Kelly improvised. She studied independently, purchasing comprehensive books on every relevant subject and supplementing her self-education with targeted tutoring sessions. For half-hour increments, she would meet virtually with a mentor who worked at Microsoft, seeking his guidance and critique on her growing portfolio. He described the potential salaries of junior designers, which prompted a bold internal decision—if she wanted to succeed quickly, she would have to present herself as an experienced professional. And so, she did.
Her confidence, mixed with a touch of audacity, bore results. Practically overnight, in her very first interview, she secured a lead UX design role. Despite her nerves and self-doubt, she accepted the position, fully aware that she was learning as she went. Whenever uncertainty arose, she ran her projects by her tutor, quietly praying her inexperience would remain unnoticed. Through perseverance, she caught on quickly, developing genuine expertise that carried her through the next few years.
However, as corporate tides shifted once again, her team faced diminishing workloads. Fear of instability resurfaced. Kelly diversified her options, acquiring a second job to safeguard her income. Yet, within a month, mass layoffs struck, and her entire team at the first company was eliminated. It was a brutal reminder that corporate stability is often an illusion. The supposed security of a steady paycheck, she realized, comes at the cost of personal autonomy—handing over one’s career, finances, and long-term future to decisions made by others, often without warning. For Kelly, that gamble no longer felt acceptable.
Design had always been part of her identity, and she longed to create something tangible, something entirely her own. She decided to reorder her yoga mats, starting with a modest batch of 250. Her plan was practical: continue her work in tech while quietly launching the mats as a side venture—a safeguard against future layoffs. Fate, however, intervened with uncanny timing. The very day her first shipment arrived on her doorstep, she lost her job yet again. Instead of succumbing to fear, she interpreted the coincidence as a sign: it was time to commit fully to her vision. She used her limited savings, took a leap of faith, and within a month the entire batch had sold out.
That quick success thrust her into a new phase filled with both excitement and logistical challenges. The mats were produced overseas, which meant delays between shipments. As inventory dwindled, Kelly grew resourceful, sending her remaining pieces to style editors and influencers to generate attention. Then, determined to capitalize on early momentum, she invested the rest of her savings into ordering a thousand more mats. It was a daunting, high-stakes move; her entire financial stability depended on its success. Yet she viewed it not as reckless risk-taking but as a calculated venture—action grounded in belief and necessity. At that point in her life, traditional employment no longer seemed feasible; the startup was her only viable path forward.
The company’s name, Carmu, held deep emotional resonance. It honored her late mother, Carolyn Mulligan, who had tragically lost her life a decade earlier after a cycling accident. Kelly often reflected on her mother’s resilience, inner strength, and unwavering encouragement to stand out—the very values that now sustained her business. In her eyes, Carmu was more than a brand; it was a living tribute, a continuation of her mother’s influence and determination.
When she officially launched the brand in May, Kelly publicized it through a simple Instagram announcement. The response that followed bordered on surreal: shortly thereafter, a friend urged her to open a copy of Vogue. Shockingly, there was Hailey Bieber featured with one of her mats in the magazine. Within a week, GQ published a story about Carmu, amplifying its visibility. That exposure opened extraordinary opportunities—soon her products appeared in Goop and were stocked by Anthropologie in Europe. What had begun as a personal response to crisis had transformed into a recognized international brand within an astonishingly brief period.
By the time the next round of mats arrived, Kelly had long stopped applying for corporate design roles. Her focus and identity had shifted entirely toward her growing business, one that had been profitable from its very first day. Yet as Carmu expanded, she faced a profound question about the future: should she seek outside investment to scale more quickly, or maintain full independence? While she recognized that external funding could accelerate growth, past experiences with corporate dependence had left her cautious, even protective of her autonomy. After so many chapters marked by losing control over her fate, she was hesitant to surrender any aspect of this success to others.
Kelly’s story, ultimately, is not just one of entrepreneurship but of restoration—of reclaiming agency, resilience, and creative identity in the face of uncertainty. What began as a response to personal loss and economic instability evolved into a testament to determination, adaptability, and the courage to reinvent one’s life from the ground up.
Do you have a story about your own career transformation or pivotal moment? Reach out to the reporter at tparadis@businessinsider.com.
Sourse: https://www.businessinsider.com/carmu-founder-leaned-into-startup-after-three-tech-layoffs-2025-12
