Jess Reynolds Excited:

hey, Dr. Jess Reynolds here. Welcome to The Conscious Practitioner. This is the audio version of my newsletter Made for wellness practitioners who love the work but are tired of feeling overwhelmed, burned out, and want to build a practice you love. If you'd like to get the email version, you'll find a link in the show notes. I almost closed my practice, not once, not twice, but so many times I lost count. I'd spent years training to be a good practitioner, learning how to listen, how to assess, how to hold space for people in their messiest moments, and honestly, I got pretty good at it in the treatment room. I felt like myself, grounded, capable, present. Then I went out on my own. Suddenly I wasn't just a practitioner. I was a receptionist. Fielding calls while folding laundry, a marketer trying to figure out Instagram between clients and accountant, squinting at spreadsheets at midnight, a tech support line when my booking system crashed again, that is until I switched to Jane Every day. I'd bounce between helping clients find relief and wondering if I should just scrap it all and get a real job. One with actual boundaries and a predictable paycheck. And somewhere between the third load of sheets and my 15th attempt at a social media post, this thought crept in. maybe I'm just not cut out for the business side, that belief. It's everywhere You hear it in the way. Practitioners apologize for their rates. You feel it in the hesitation before putting yourself out there. It's the knot in your stomach when someone asks about your business strategy and you wanna laugh, cry, because honestly, your strategy is just survive until Friday because here's what no one tells you when you're in school, dreaming about your future practice, if you work for yourself even a little. You're not just a practitioner, you're also a business owner. And that identity split, that's where the real suffering lives. Not because business is hard though, holy shit, it is. But because we're told that business and care live in different universes, like business lives in some cold, calculating part of the brain and healing flows from the heart, like their oil and water forever repelling each other. But here's the thing. Identity isn't something we're born with. It's something we're handed shaped by mentors, schooling, culture, and the pressure to be who we think we're supposed to be. Most of us were trained to see practitioner and business owner as two totally different tracks, but it's possible to reconcile them, to stop performing versions of ourselves that feel at odds. Instead, find one that actually feels integrated. Not perfect, but honest, and those instincts that make you a brilliant practitioner. Reading the room, adjusting your approach, holding complexity without freaking out. Those are the same instincts that make you capable of running a practice that actually works. You just haven't been shown how to trust them in a business context yet. So if you're exhausted from switching between mismatched roles, I. Or if sending an invoice feels like you're betraying your values, maybe the problem isn't you. Maybe it's the story that these parts of you are supposed to be at war. There's a version of your business that doesn't require a suit, literal or metaphorical, that doesn't fit one where your business decisions and your practitioner wisdom flow from the same place where building systems feels as natural as building treatment plans. That version isn't a fantasy. It's just waiting for permission because those moments when I wanted to walk away when locking the door for good felt like the only sane option. They weren't about being bad at business. They weren't even about burnout. They were about the exhaustion of trying to be too different people. A believing I had to choose between being good at healing or good at business and constantly feeling like I was failing at both. Once I let that false divide go, everything shifted. Not easier, exactly, but cleaner, more coherent, like finally breathing with both lungs instead of just one. The relief was physical. I don't know. Maybe it's just me, but I suspect not. So if this landed for you, let me know. Seriously, I read every reply. I respond to everyone. When was the last time you felt like you were betraying one part of yourself? Just to keep the lights on. If you enjoy this type of content, subscribe or follow the conscious practitioner wherever you listen to your podcasts. Like always be well, my friend.