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Hey Reader, There's a version of this story where I walk away. Where the weight of everything — a father's cancer diagnosis, my in-laws' failing health, my son's near-fatal accident, a business I'd spread too thin — becomes too much. Where I decide the most responsible thing I can do is quit and focus on my family. I almost told that version of the story. I'm so glad I didn't. By the summer of 2024, I'd been in business eight years and I was spread thin across too many offers. Then my dad was diagnosed with cancer. Then, the night before my son left for college, the phone rang at 11:30 PM. I came this close to closing Simply Enough for good. I've never fully told the story of what stopped me, the moment that broke something open in me, and why I picked up the phone and finally committed instead of walking away. It's on the blog today. If you're in a season that feels like too much right now, I wrote this one for you. Here's the short version of what I learned: You don't have to choose between your family and your dreams. But you might have to reset one to protect the other. It doesn't have to be all or nothing. It just has to be honest and intentional. It has to be yours. I almost closed my business. Instead, I built the one I was always supposed to have. Amy |
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...