The world talks about the fear of leaping, but nobody talks about the burden of stability.
In my house, I own that stability. I carry that weight. And shouldering it is heavier than any of us ever let it be known.
Stability is ironic. It's the thing everyone works towards.
The C suite title. The upward mobility. The six figure salary. The authority that comes with it all.
But somehow, slowly, over time, all of that morphed into something different. It became the steady paycheck that covered my mortgage. The benefits that were non negotiable because of preexisting conditions, doctors and treatments. The lifestyle I became accustomed to. And for a long while, it became the safety net my entrepreneur husband depended on when his business had a tough year.
Until one day, I woke up, and instead of it being the thing I strived for, it became the very thing I resented most.
They call them golden handcuffs for a reason. But let me tell you. All that glitters isn't gold, babe. Those cuffs are the heaviest accessory you will ever wear to the office each day. Because they come wrapped in the legitimacy that you once wanted.
And for a while it IS enough. You ARE happy. You are building and having impact. It's a space that you shine in. It's comfortable.
But then, you get a taste of something bigger. Something that awakens a part of you that has been dormant for years. Untapped. And suddenly, everything changes.
Suddenly, you have access to the business from a different vantage point. One you never saw from the finance seat. Biz dev. Marketing. Revenue generation.
And you're REALLY GOOD at it. You're a magnet. People are drawn to you.
It's palpable. It fuels you. That feeling of FINALLY. Everything I have done in my entire career has been leading me here. I am SO much more than JUST a CFO.
And then someone rips it out from under you.
Because here is what nobody tells you about being really good at your job. People get comfortable with you exactly where you are. The version of you that fits neatly into the box they built. And when you outgrow it, when you start operating beyond what they imagined for you, the ceiling starts to close in on you. Capped at their comfort. Not your potential.
And the weight of having to make yourself smaller wreaks havoc on you. The mental tax of being a strategist reduced to transactional level work you’ve completely outgrown is the kind of depletion that drains you at a soul level.
There were mornings I sat in the parking lot for 45 minutes before I walked through the door. Not because I was dreading a hard day. But because I was dreading an irrelevant one.
Heavy is the head who wears the crown, right? Well, heavy are the chains that tether you to your desk. But what’s even heavier? The weight of those golden handcuffs starting to cut off the circulation around your wrists.
Unfortunately, I had been here before. The ceiling caving in faster each time. Except before, it wasn't just a ceiling. It was an entire environment closing in on me. So toxic that it left a mark on my mental health.
I wanted out. Desperately. I was willing to take any exit. Not a career move. Just an escape. But I couldn't. My husband's business was going through another tough year. We couldn't afford for me to walk away. So I stayed. Six months longer than I ever should have. Six months that cost me more than I can quantify.
When I finally got out I made myself a promise. Never again.
I would never allow myself to be without options. I would never be at the mercy of timing that wasn't mine to control.
So I began building. 18 months before I ever needed to.
Not because stability was a burden yet. Not because I was ready to leap either. But because having choices changes everything.
Incorporated. Check.
Logo. Check.
Insurance. Check.
I created the opportunity to be ready to move when the time arrived.
And like true alignment, opportunity came knocking. My first client showed up on my doorstep.
I sent a contract. They signed it.
And then they referred me to someone else. Two paying clients. Just like that.
But truth be told, that didn't lighten the burden. In fact, it made it heavier. Because the flame had been reignited. And it was pulling me toward something I could no longer turn away from.
So I gave myself 90 days. A sprint not a marathon. By day, I still carried the burden of stability. Still showed up every day as the utmost professional. Held it down for everyone who depended on it. I focused on my team, stayed at the office, behind the spreadsheets.
By night I networked. Built my personal brand through my LinkedIn presence.
Thank you very much, The Daily Drip.
Had one to one after one to one. Guested at events. Made deep connections. Built a strong referral network. Hired an executive coach and fulfilled client deliverables on weekends.
I accomplished more in 90 days than some accomplish in a year.
On the days I was braindead at 9pm and it took me three hours to do something that should have taken 45 minutes, I still showed up as a wife and a mom before I crashed out.
But I kept going. Because freedom and autonomy were so close I could reach out and touch it.
And slowly, the burden of stability started to lift. The grip of the chains that bound me loosened until they fell off.
Because then it all just felt inevitable. The path to entrepreneurship unfolded in front of me so clearly. The transition stopped feeling like a risk and started feeling like the thing that was always supposed to happen next.
On day 75 of 90, I gave my notice. Ahead of schedule. Why? Because waiting 15 more days felt like I was delaying destiny.
So here I am. Declaring it. For the first time, publicly:
I am Jessica Cohen, Founder and CEO of Centsible Solutions, a Fractional CFO and Client Advisory firm.
So when you sit there and say: I can't. I shouldn't. I'm not.
Here's what I tell you from the other side of all this.
Buckle up buttercup. Because the person that emerges, free of the shackles and chains, shattering all the ceilings, is more badass than you ever thought possible. And she can do anything.
We were made for this.
