I’m Amy Slenker-Smith — business coach for professional organizers. You’ve been booking paid clients for a while now. But you’re still undercharging, overexplaining, and piecing together an income. You’re not new. You’re stuck. That’s what we fix. Sign up here to learn more.
Don't leave this for your kids.
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Hey Reader, I came across a reel this week that stopped my scroll. A woman is standing in her parents' garage. She's trying to clear a path, just enough room for a wheelchair. Because her parents need medical equipment now. A hospital bed is coming. And the garage, like so much of the house, is buried. She's been trying to help her parents deal with this for years. And now they're in crisis. And so is she. In the comments, someone told her to just leave it alone. Use the inheritance to clean it up when the time comes. I couldn't disagree more. That suggestion is unfair. It's unkind. And it places all the burden on the people who are already doing the hardest work. They are showing up for aging parents, managing their care, and now managing their stuff too. The people who own the stuff have a responsibility. Full stop. I know this season intimately. A few years ago, I spent nine months helping my in-laws downsize from 3,400 square feet to 1,200. I was there four to five days at a time. We went through every drawer, every closet, every room. There were 17 end tables. Twenty-five coffee mugs. Decades of decisions that had to be made, lovingly, patiently, and all at once. It was a labor of love. And it was hard. But here's what made it possible: they were willing. They participated. They took responsibility for their own things before a crisis forced someone else to do it for them. That's the gift. If you're a Gen X empty nester, if your kids are launched, if you've been in the same house for 20 years, if you've thought about downsizing but haven't started, this email is for you. Not guilt. No judgement. But to ask: what do you want your kids to walk into someday? Because the time to answer that question is now. Not when the walker arrives. Not when the hospital bed is on its way. Now, when you have energy, options, and the ability to make thoughtful decisions about the things you've spent a lifetime collecting. You don't have to do it all at once. You just have to start. If you'd like help figuring out where to begin, or if you've been putting this off and you're finally ready, I'd love to talk. And if you're a professional organizer reading this, are you serving families in this season? Are you trying to figure out how to reach them, message to them, or help them take action before a crisis hits? I'd love that conversation too. The same link will get you there. You know what's at stake. So do I. Let's not leave this for someone else to deal with. Amy |
Amy Slenker-Smith, Simply Enough
I’m Amy Slenker-Smith — business coach for professional organizers. You’ve been booking paid clients for a while now. But you’re still undercharging, overexplaining, and piecing together an income. You’re not new. You’re stuck. That’s what we fix. Sign up here to learn more.
Hey Reader, Three times this month, one of my clients ran the perfect consult. She walked the prospective client through every room. The client finally stopped apologizing for the mess and started planning what could actually change. Then: "This sounds amazing. I just need to talk to my husband." Nine days later. Zero callbacks. Here's the honest truth: research shows a woman's cortisol stays elevated all day in a cluttered home. Her husband's does not. She's carrying a weight he can't feel,...
Hey Reader, I was on vacation last week. Somewhere between sandcastles and sunscreen, we loaned our old purple shovel to a family setting up their tent. We've had that shovel for fifteen years. It's built more sandcastles and dug more holes for umbrella poles than I can count. The next morning, I realized we never got it back. My heart actually skipped a beat. I coach people through letting go of thirty years' worth of stuff. I'm not supposed to panic over a plastic shovel that cost three...
Hey Reader, Next week I'm taking ten days off. And for the first time in a long time, I'm not dreading the leaving part. Two years ago, I nearly closed this business. I wrote about that here. So it means something that this week, everything is tucked in. My clients are cared for. They know I'll be checking Voxer and text in the evenings, not on demand. And then I'm gone. It reminds me of my corporate days — when I'd hand things off knowing the work would hold without me hovering over it. I...