This post is a day late and that’s okay. Yesterday my body made the decision for me — rest first, write later. Turns out that’s exactly what this post is about.
I was up early again this morning — back to my regular walks before school drop offs. I missed these. I haven’t been sleeping much lately, hitting that snooze button more than I should, but today felt different. Something shifted after the storm this past weekend. My mood is different. My whole body is different. That clarity that hits after you’ve been through it? It’s incredible.
I got in about 1.24 miles in the dark, listening to Jay’s podcast on six things to start your morning right, and somewhere between the streetlights and the silence it hit me — okay Lupe, now what? You named it. You cried it out. You sat in it. Now what are you going to DO about it?
Because here’s the thing about identifying the problem — whether it’s in your business books or in your own brain — naming it is only step one. I’ve been doing this long enough as a tax professional to know that finding where you’ve been leaving money on the table doesn’t fix anything on its own. You have to stop the bleeding. You have to make a plan. You have to do the work.
So after school drop off I laced up again and headed to a nearby trail. I almost turned back when it looked like there wasn’t going to be much unpaved path — but I took a leap of faith and made an unexpected turn. My AllTrails app didn’t show anything there. No marked trail. No reviews. Nothing.
And then I found a waterfall.
It stopped me cold. Not just because it was beautiful, but because of what it said to me in that moment — sometimes the map just hasn’t been written yet. There is no app for what I’m navigating. Nobody has mapped out the trail for being a solopreneur with ADHD in perimenopause, carrying trauma, running a business, raising kids, and trying to heal all at the same time. The GPS doesn’t exist. You just have to take the unexpected turn and trust that something is there.
And standing there at that waterfall, something crystallized. It’s time. Not tomorrow, not after tax season, not when things slow down — now. Therapy, meds, journaling, self-reflection, rest — whatever my mind and body need, I’m going to start listening and feeding it. Because the alternative is becoming a burnt out ball of excuses. And that’s just not me.
I went into this week thinking about how ADHD and perimenopause have been wrecking me. And they have. But I also know my own brain well enough now to apply the same thinking I use with my clients. When I sit down with someone whose books are a mess, I don’t shame them. I don’t call it an excuse. I call it data. I find the pain points, I identify where they’ve been tipping Uncle Sam, and we make a plan to stop the bleeding. That’s exactly what I’m doing for myself now.
And then Wednesday hit me like only Wednesday can.
Back to back client meetings all day, and right around 4pm — hello heel spur. That deep, sharp, don’t-you-dare-take-another-step pain that had me limping through the rest of the evening. By the time I sat down to write this post I was so exhausted I fell asleep on my laptop. Yesterday’s breakthrough energy? Gone. Today I’m tired in that specific way that feels like coming off a high.
Is this burnout again?
Maybe. Probably. But here’s what’s different — I know what it is now. I know what to do. I’m on the couch, icing my heel, working slow, not pushing it. Because I have a road trip this weekend and nature is waiting for me. New trails. New waterfalls. New maps that haven’t been written yet.
I’m not canceling. I’m just resting so I can show up for it fully.
Raw. Real. Still on the trail. — Lupe 🥾
If this resonated with you, follow along at runmom.com — I write here daily, raw and real.
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