Closing Out My Second Year as a Solopreneur — and Learning to Slow Down

I’m closing out my full second year as a solopreneur.

I’m also a single parent.
Divorced.
Raising a child who needs just a bit extra from the world — and from me.

I’ve always been a hard-working, type-A, go-go-go kind of person. That identity served me well for a long time.

But this year didn’t gently suggest that I slow down.

It slapped me in the face and made slowing down non-negotiable.

My son — who is a truly wonderful human being learning his way in this world — has had his struggles. And with every one of those struggles, there has been a mom there.

A mom to make sure he didn’t fall.
A mom to make sure he didn’t carry things that were never meant to be carried alone.
A mom committed to finding a way forward that allows him to heal and become the glorious person he is meant to be.

All while trying to grow a business.

And if we’re honest, there’s a keep-the-lights-on reality to running a business on your own.

You put your name out there.
You hope projects line up neatly.
You try to avoid gaps.

Spoiler alert: they rarely do.

You either have a lot of people interested in you — or none at all. That swing is real. And it’s part of finding your way.

What this year also forced me to confront is something deeper.

We all carry a picture of what our life should look like.
I know I did.

I had a picture of what my life would be like.
What I wanted my son’s life to be like.

And as much as we want something — and work toward it — we don’t always get what we want.

That truth is scary.

Because we follow the steps.
We do the “right” things.
We work toward those images with everything we have.

And sometimes those steps lead us somewhere else entirely.

That other place can challenge you in ways you never imagined:
Almost losing someone you love.
Feeling like your professional life is dying on the vine.
Wondering if everything you built is slipping away.

But here’s what this year taught me:

That place — as painful as it feels — is often a season, not the destination.

You still have to show up.
Even scared.
Especially scared.

Because there is always the possibility that things turn out — not just okay — but better than you expected.

Life is unexpected like that.

The destination we had in mind may not have been the best option for us after all.
So sometimes the universe redirects us — not to punish us, but to grow us.

This year taught me to slow down.
It taught me not to miss moments with my son.
It taught me to be fully present where I am actually needed — not just where I feel productive.

It also taught me something quieter, but just as important.

When things slowed, I had a choice:

• Fill the space with endless Netflix and laundry
• Or use it to refine my skills, sharpen my thinking, and become better at what I do

I chose the second — imperfectly, but intentionally.

And maybe the most unexpected lesson of all?

This year taught me to find ways to define myself outside of my work.

Not because the work doesn’t matter — it does.
But because I matter too.
And so does the life I’m building alongside it.

As this year comes to a close, I don’t feel behind.

I feel clearer.
More grounded.
More honest about what this season of life requires of me.

And oddly enough — that feels like real progress.

As we move toward a new year, I hope you’ll give yourself the space to pause.
Not to judge the year — but to listen to it.

Because every year teaches us something, whether we were ready for the lesson or not.

👉 What did this year teach you about who you are becoming — and how will that shape the way you move forward?

Sometimes growth doesn’t look like acceleration.
Sometimes it looks like understanding.