Why an army of one sucks.

I'll start by saying that this week was significantly better than last week. I had no major meltdowns, no angry customers and even though I ran out of pretty much everything supplies-wise, I did not have to make 20 trips to the grocery store. All of these things add to to a win in my book.
I think I've finally realized why this is so difficult for me, to pretty much do all of this by myself. It's not the workload, like you might think, it's the stress. Which, well, duh.
But think of it like this. Imagine, say Walmart. You have cashiers who are responsible for helping the customers. And that comes with it's own little annoyances. People who think they are ready to check out but aren't. Or they want to put something back or they forgot their checkbooks. After a particularly busy weekend, I can imagine a cashier could easily be at her wits end. Now imagine the manager who has to create the schedule and come up with solutions when someone doesn't show up for work or is late. Dealing with payroll, and customer complains when one of the cashiers goes off on a customer.
Now, consider the company responsible for creating all of the goods that are being sold. Worrying about quality control, production estimates, and demand. Then think about the owner or shareholders, worrying about the bottom line and profit distribution.
Now imagine that one person is responsible for all of this.
This is where I have my breakdown. There is so much to balance, I just don't know how to manage everything without feeling overwhelmed. Every single aspect of this business is stress-inducing, and I'm there absorbing every drop like a sponge.
I've always tangled with the idea that I am Sweet Love. That our identities are so entwined that they will never be separate. So when someone attacks me or my bakery, it's a double punch to the gut. I like to think that even a normal person would have a hard time with this. But me? It's worse. I have always considered myself highly empathetic. To the point if I see someone cut themselves, my nerve endings fire as if I sustained it myself. So even if, one day, far down the road I manage to pull apart the identity of the bakery from myself, I will still feel her wounds. It's simply in my nature.
Part of me wishes that I could work a callus over my heart. That I could be a cold, unfeeling person, who turns a blind eye and shrugs off others pain. Who could shrug off her own pain. To step outside of it all with a simple, "eh."
But I know that I can't. It's literally what makes me, me. And I know that it will never go away, but I'm working to make things like this sting less. I'm trying to change so that the hurt doesn't hurt as long. It is a painful process, change.
I talked to my therapist about all of this and his words were as such, "If change were easy, we would all do it. It's not. It's hard. If you're hurting, it means you're growing."
I just hate that this evolution is taking place in the public eye. Mind you, I don't have paparazzi following me. I don't have throngs of people flocking to my door pointing fingers and judging. And I know that to an extent, this is my doing, by bringing this story here, to the light of day; but I feel that having this outlet is more of a benefit than a hinderance, so I shall continue.
As my business plunges ahead into its second year, I feel it's an adolescent now. It's coming into its own, finding its voice and learning what it does and doesn't like. As it continues to grow and grow up, so shall I. One day I will look back at all of this and laugh. Laugh at my inability to bend, at the ridiculousness of being the least bit angry when surrounded by sugar, at the thought that I ever felt trapped by my own decisions. And I look forward to that day.