Why Loud Strategies Left Me Burnt Out (and What I Do Differently Now)

For Bookkeepers

Sep 19

There was a stretch of time—maybe you’ve had one like this—where I couldn’t open my laptop without feeling like I was already behind.

Behind on content.

Behind on visibility.

Behind on clarity, consistency, automation, optimization… pick a word, and someone somewhere had a strategy that claimed to fix it.

I was doing everything I thought I was supposed to do. Or trying to, at least.

I had signed up for the webinars, downloaded the free guides, filled out the worksheets that promised to help me “crack the code” to aligned marketing and sustainable growth.

And I wasn’t entirely new to business. I had experience. I had skills. I was thoughtful, motivated, and genuinely wanted to do right by my clients.

But the more I tried to follow the formulas, the more fragmented I started to feel.

Because underneath all of that well-meaning advice—beneath the blueprints and frameworks and expertly designed content calendars—was an unspoken message:

“This is what works. If it’s not working for you, you’re doing it wrong.”

And after a while, that message started to settle into my nervous system.

Not as clarity, but as self-doubt.

When the noise gets too loud

I don’t think it happens all at once.

The overwhelm builds slowly—one “helpful” tip at a time.

At first, I was excited to learn. There’s so much good information out there, and I genuinely love understanding how things work. I wasn’t afraid of putting in the effort. I wasn’t even afraid of visibility.

But I started to notice a pattern.

Each new strategy I learned seemed to conflict with the one before.

And more often than not, each strategy required me to become someone I wasn’t.

I was told to post three times a day on Instagram.

To share more “edgy” content.

To sell in the DMs.

To create urgency, even when I didn’t feel urgent.

To keep launching, even when I was tired.

Then I was told to go quiet. To rebrand. To disappear and build in secret. To “stop playing small” and “step into my power”—which apparently looked like high-ticket coaching and a $27K mastermind I had no interest in joining.

It was hard to tell what was helpful and what was harmful.

But I started to notice how it all made me feel:

More anxious. More unsure. More performative.

I wasn’t just second-guessing my strategy. I was second-guessing myself.

A quiet shift

The moment things changed wasn’t dramatic. There was no breakdown, no big “aha,” no scene you’d write into a screenplay.

It was just me, at my desk, with one too many tabs open.

One of them was a beautifully designed content calendar I’d downloaded from a popular business coach. It was color-coded, clearly labeled, and full of prompts—do this on Mondays, this on Thursdays, repeat every 30 days.

I looked at it, and for a moment, I really wanted to make it work. I even opened a fresh document and tried to map it onto my own business.

But the more I looked at that calendar, the more something in me just… stopped.

My shoulders tensed.

My mind raced.

My breathing got shallow.

Because that content calendar had no room for my actual energy.

No room for my family’s rhythm.

No room for rest, or nuance, or the way my brain works.

It was built for someone else. Someone who thrived on performance. Someone who could push through and keep going no matter what.

I could tell it wasn’t made for me. And I realized—I no longer wanted to build a business that wasn’t made for me either.

So I closed the tab.

I didn’t burn everything down.

I just gave myself permission to do it differently.

What I did instead

I started small.

I unsubscribed from half my email list.

I muted the accounts that were fueling my comparison.

I took a break from trying to “optimize” every corner of my business and started asking a different question:

“What do I actually want this to feel like?”

I wrote that question on a sticky note and put it above my desk.

Not:

“What will convert best?”
“What will make me look like I have it together?”
“What would so-and-so do?”

But:

“What pace feels sustainable?”
“What kind of client relationships do I want to build?”
“What do I want people to feel when they land on my website or read my content or work with me?”
“What would feel nourishing to create?”

That one question changed the way I ran my business.

Not overnight.

But steadily. Gently.

In a way that respected my nervous system, my values, and my capacity.

And slowly but surely, things started to work.

Nervous-system-safe strategy

I use this phrase often—because it’s not just a nice idea. It’s a necessary one.

Nervous-system-safe strategy means building a business in a way that honors your capacity.

It means:

Not pushing yourself past your limits just to keep up with someone else’s version of success.
Not treating every platform, post, or project like it’s life or death.
Not confusing anxiety with ambition.

This doesn’t mean you never stretch yourself. Growth will always involve some level of discomfort.

But it’s the difference between stretching and snapping.

Between expansion and dysregulation.

A good strategy challenges you without unraveling you.

It supports your energy.

It clarifies your next step.

It invites momentum—not just motion.

And in my experience, it’s the only kind of strategy that actually lasts.

If you're feeling that swirl...

Maybe you’re in that place right now.

You’re trying to start (or restart) your bookkeeping business.

You know you’re good at what you do.

You’re ready to help people.

But every time you go looking for direction, you get pulled into 17 different paths at once.

Should you build a website or create an Instagram account?

Should you price hourly or package your services?

Should you say yes to the first client who asks—or wait for someone who’s a better fit?

And what if you're already in business… but it’s not feeling sustainable?

What if you’ve been following the advice, doing the steps, but still ending your days drained and wondering if it’s supposed to feel this hard?

What you really need isn’t louder

If you’re just starting (or restarting) your bookkeeping business, and the advice you’ve been consuming has left you more overwhelmed than empowered—you’re not alone.

You’re not behind.

You’re not doing it wrong.

You don’t need to go louder, or faster, or “be more visible” before you feel ready.

What you need is space.

Space to hear yourself think.
Space to clarify what kind of business you actually want.
Space to name your priorities, your values, your strengths, your boundaries.

And once you have that?

Then you can build something solid.

Not trendy. Not performative.

Just solid. Steady. Rooted.

A calmer starting point

If you’re craving a quieter kind of clarity…

If you want to build your business in a way that actually honors your energy, your values, and your voice…
I’d love to share something that might help.

It’s called the Bookkeeping Biz Blueprint—a free guide I created for aspiring and reimagining bookkeepers who are ready to root into their business with calm, strategy, and intention.

Inside, you’ll find:

A values-led approach to building (or rebuilding) your practice
Gentle but practical prompts to clarify your vision
A look at the foundational areas that actually matter—without the noise

There’s no pressure to do things one way.

Just an invitation to begin in a way that feels grounded and clear.

🕯️ You can sign up to get the Blueprint right here:

Final thoughts

Sometimes we need to learn what doesn’t work in order to discover what does.

And for me, that meant getting really honest about how performative advice—no matter how well-packaged—was never going to lead me to a sustainable, values-aligned business.

I don’t want to build a business that depends on me performing a version of myself that isn’t real.

I want to build a business that reflects who I am.

And I want that for you, too.

If what you’ve been doing isn’t working, it doesn’t mean you’ve failed.

It doesn’t mean you’re behind.

It just means it might be time to ask a different question.

You don’t have to be louder.

You don’t have to be faster.

You don’t have to do more.

You get to be clear.

You get to be strategic.

And you get to do it in a way that actually supports you.