A Laser Engraver Pulled Me Out of the Darkest Time of My Life

I never thought of myself as a creative person. My whole life has been tech — computer science, robotics, PLCs, electronics. All the geek stuff. The idea that a little laser engraver would be the thing that pulled me out of the worst period of my life? I never saw that coming.

My name is Jaccobb. I'm 47, and I live in rural Indiana — farmland, cornfields, the works. I run a laser engraving business from my home called Hippy Krymh, and I dedicate a big chunk of my time and profits to charity work. But this story doesn't start with business. It starts somewhere much darker.

When Everything Went Dark

I'm diabetic. A few years ago, the medication I was on for some of the side effects of my diabetes caused a severe adverse reaction. It triggered intense depression and suicidal thoughts. During a span of six months, I attempted suicide three times.

Some days, it felt like sitting in a room full of hundreds of TVs, and every single screen was showing the worst-case scenario of something horrible that was going to happen, telling me I had no worth. No value. I couldn't work. I couldn't be left alone. I'd panic around people.

My doctor looked at me and gave me two choices: go into an intensive inpatient facility to be watched around the clock, or change my life — get a dog.

I chose the dog.

Three Dogs, Three Businesses

That first dog saved my life. And the others that followed did the same. I now have three dogs, and if you ask me, they run more businesses than I do.

My Great Dane, Lena — she stands about six feet tall, bigger than most people — she's the face of Hippy Krymh, the pet accessories and memorial side of the business. My Golden Shepherd handles the government serialization work I do for my brother-in-law's CNC shop. And my little deaf one, Nim, is technically the owner of my drone photography business.

Each one played a role in my recovery. But it was Nim who got the whole laser engraving journey started.

A Collar for a Deaf Dog

As I began to recover, I wanted to give back to dogs — the animals that had saved me. I planned to make custom dog tags at events and donate the profits to shelter pups. But for that, I needed a portable laser I could bring to a dog park. That's when I found the xTool F1 — it had a closed shield, so it was safe to use in public, and it was portable enough to throw in the car.

The very first thing I made was a collar tag for Nim. He's deaf — if he's not looking at you, he can't hear you calling him back. The thought of him getting lost with no way to identify him terrified me. So I engraved his name and my information right onto the metal of his collar.

Once I did it for him, it clicked. I started branching out — pet ID tags, custom collars, NFC tags with a dog's full vet records embedded inside. Every pet deserves a way to find its way home.

Memorials That Don't Break the Bank

Most of what I make now are memorials. And there's a reason I feel so strongly about this.

In the US, death is one of the most profitable industries. There are companies that charge hundreds, even a thousand dollars, just for a fingerprint keepsake on a piece of metal. When my father-in-law passed away, they wanted to charge my mother-in-law over eight hundred dollars for a necklace with his thumbprint on it. She was already buried in debt he'd left behind. And she didn't just want one — she wanted one for herself, for their six children, for all thirty-six grandchildren. There was no way she could afford that.

So I bought dog tags for twenty-five cents each and engraved his fingerprint on every single one. That's what they were trying to charge eight hundred dollars for.

That moment is exactly why I got my first fiber laser. And it's why Hippy Krymh exists.

I do memorial stones with laser-engraved hearts, backfilled with resin and embedded with NFC chips — tap your phone and it pulls up photos of your pet, or your loved one. I do glass engravings, stepping stones, pendants. All of it at a fraction of what the memorial industry charges. Because when someone has just lost a person or a pet they love, the last thing they need is a company profiting off their grief.

The Halloween That Changed Everything

The day I'll always remember is last Halloween.

Candy was expensive that year — about five bucks for a bag of thirty-five pieces. So instead, I decided to buy seven hundred aluminum whistles and set up my laser right in the driveway.

Every kid who came by got to pick a color, tell me their name, and I'd engrave it on the spot — takes about seven seconds per whistle. They even got to press the start button themselves.

Over 450 kids came through that night. The entire neighborhood was filled with the sound of hundreds of children blowing whistles. People on Facebook started calling me "the laser guy." Three different people posted about it in the xTool community group.

For me, that night was everything. I'm someone whose mood feeds directly off the energy of the people around me. When people around me are sad, I feel it physically. But when they're happy — when a kid's eyes light up over something I just made — I feel that too. My body changes. Something shifts inside me.

That day, surrounded by four hundred and fifty excited kids, I was genuinely, deeply happy. And that matters more to me than any amount of money.

Giving Back Is the Whole Point

Hippy Krymh was never just about profits. From day one, twenty percent of all profit goes straight to helping dogs in need. We buy toys for shelter dogs, cover vet visits, and pay for life-saving surgeries that families can't afford.

Not long ago, a Great Dane needed a twelve-thousand-dollar surgery to survive. The family couldn't pay for it. We stepped in and helped with what we could.

And it's grown beyond dogs. Last winter, I found a post in a laser group from a seventy-six-year-old woman who had just broken her hip. She was snowed in, alone, on a walker, and she was talking about having thoughts she'd never had before — the kind I know too well. Her kids were too busy. Her grandkids lived out of state. We found people near her to shovel her out and check in on her.

I'm not a people person. Ask anyone who knows me — I prefer animals. But when you see someone suffering the way I have, you can't look away.

More Than Laser Engraving Ideas — A Reason to Keep Going

I do make money through the machines. My largest single order was engraving three hundred glasses for a wedding — that brought in twenty-four hundred dollars. I do government parts serialization. I do event engraving, retirement community visits, school events. The laser engraving ideas are endless when you start looking.

But for me, the income was never the point.

What actually pulled me out of the darkness was helping people. Getting onto the xTool community, offering technical assistance, troubleshooting machines for people who were stuck. Every thank-you message told me the same thing: I'm good at this. People need me. I matter.

That's what the medication and the depression had stolen — my sense of personal value. And a laser engraver, of all things, gave it back.

I take my machines to retirement communities, to school events, to dog parks. I have an xTool kiosk set up so people can design their own products and press the start button themselves. The wonderment on their faces when they watch it happen for the first time — that's the best part of what I do.

Using This Machine to Make Others Happy Is How I Saved Myself

Everybody wants to make money, and laser engraving really does help people make a living. But for me, that was never the point.

I'm the type of person who matches other people's energy — whether I want to or not. I can't help it. So when someone lights up and says, "Oh my god, look at this" — inside, that makes me feel like a whole new person.

That's worth more to me than any amount of money.

Using this machine to make other people happy is how I pulled myself out of the dark. I saved my own life doing it.

Jaccobb is the owner of Hippy Krymh, a pet accessories and memorial business based in Indiana. He creates custom pet tags, memorial keepsakes, and community event items using xTool machines from his home. Twenty percent of his profits go directly to helping dogs in need.