Your Brain Is the Business

Your Brain Is the Business

How to price, plan, and protect your energy like the asset it is.

It started out simple: a part-time engagement, a few days a week, tight scope, interesting work, fun team. The kind of gig that fits beautifully into a portfolio career—and I was all too eager to jump in. I’d just moved to France and was still adjusting to a new culture, a new language, a new life. I was pivoting out of running my own apparel company (which had failed spectacularly) and giving this fractional/consulting thing a real shot—for the first time, full-time.

Let’s just say: my confidence was in the gutter.

And because I didn’t think I had any power, I gave it all away.

I took what I could get. I said yes to the first opportunity that landed in front of me. I discounted my rates. I ignored my own boundaries. I told myself to be grateful—grateful someone wanted to hire me, grateful to be needed, grateful to be on the team.

And at first? It worked. Two days a week became three. Then four. Then five. Before I knew it, I was functioning as a full-time COO—but without the full-time pay, the benefits, or any of the protection or stability that usually come with a salaried role.

And I kept saying yes.

I believed in the product. I was deeply invested in the work. I built a phenomenal team—one I’m still proud of. I was doing work I genuinely cared about. But energetically? I was in the toilet.

And I ignored the signs: the scope creep, the mounting drain, the way my own business—the one I was supposedly building—had completely disappeared from view. I felt guilty just thinking about it. Guilt for working on my own business. Guilt that somehow, by even thinking about my own content, my own visibility, my own goals—I was being disloyal to my client.

Even though I wasn’t salaried.

Even though I was self-employed.

By the time I realized how far off course things had gotten, it was too late. I had no pipeline. I had no energy. I had nothing left to give—not to myself, not to new clients, not to the long-term vision I said I wanted.

It was the worst of both worlds. A full-time role that looked like salaried employment, but was technically freelance. And no time, no energy, and no margin to grow my own business. No safety net. No fallback. Just a slow leak that turned into a flood.

It was a monster of my own making.

And walking away, while necessary, meant starting from scratch.

That experience changed everything. The way I think about pricing. The way I think about capacity. The way I protect my time, my energy, and my sense of self as a business owner. The way I listen to my gut. The way I call red flags early—way earlier.

Because this work isn’t just about finding clients and billing hours. It’s about managing your mind. Guarding your creative bandwidth. Honoring your limits. These things aren’t a luxury or a nice to have. They ARE the business.