Reflections on 10 Years of Flow

The word FLOW is displayed in the brand colors against a dark background

TITLE: My business turns 10 today.

SUBTITLE: Holy shit, where did my 40s go.

When I launched, I was 40. Now I’m 50.

When I launched, my daughters were 2 and 6. Now they’re 12 and 16. (Math…it works!)

When I launched, we had no dog. Now we have Julia.

When I launched, I had two boobs. Now I have one. (Well, technically two. But one is an example of fine human craftsmanship.)

When I launched, my mother had two God-given hips. Now I just got home from living with her for a bit after she had one of them replaced.

When I launched, I looked for and could find only one other financial planner who focused on women in tech. Now I can barely keep count.

I still have the one, gently used husband and the one, mildly improved home.

What have I learned over the last decade?

[Note: We celebrate Flow’s birthday on May 9. If you want, read my Year 9, Year 8, Year 7, Year 6, Year 5, Year 4, Year 3, and Year 2 reflections.]

Business Lessons from 10 Years in Business

Growing your firm is much harder than maintaining your firm.

New clients are so much more time consuming than existing clients.

If you have 30 clients already, and you’re starting with one new client every month, wondering how the hell you’re ever going to serve 50 because you’re So Busy…let me reassure you that once you get to 50 and all you have to do is serve 50 existing clients (plus one or two new clients a year simply to make up for attrition), your workload will drop dramatically.

If you don’t have “perpetual growth” goals, the end of your Constant Grinding will come! (And if “perpetual growth” is your goal, then… vaya con Dios, my friend. You’re a better woman than I.)

Shifting from growing to maintaining is hard.

I started this firm with Zero. Zero clients. Zero revenue. Growing was a necessity. Grinding was a necessity.

Over the years, as I found clients and revenue, growth became less of a necessity. And at this point, I don’t need to grow at all and, for personal reasons, I don’t want to grow.

(Why do I not need to grow? Because I made a point of figuring out what my Enough is, and I reached Enough. More than Enough, really.)

That shift from “must grind!” to “just hold steady” is discombobulating. Maintenance is an entirely different mindset. It involves different processes, habits, schedules, etc. I’ve been undergoing it for about 1 ½ years now and am making progress.

Want a higher profit margin? Charge higher fees.

As I learned from JD Bruce in year 2 of owning my firm, you can focus on growth or on profit. Then experience and Michael Kitces taught me that, if you want to focus on profit, charging higher fees is the simplest, easiest, most expedient way to get there.

Hiring more people and buying new tech tools to leverage you…that might help. But tech only helps a little, and hiring people is a huge commitment.

I know that planners worry about raising their fees. They worry that they won’t get any more clients. What I have learned is that you might not get the same clients, but there are always good-fit clients at whatever price you charge.

“It’s your business, Meg. Why have you given yourself a job you hate?”

I had never run a business before Flow, so I didn’t have much intuition about how to run it. I therefore relied on external messages to guide my choices. This resulted in me doing a lot of work that I didn’t enjoy or, in some cases, outright despised.

You know that exercise where you draw a line down the middle of a piece of paper, and then on one side you write “things that give me energy” and on the other “things that drain my energy”? Over the years, I did that exercise many times (sometimes on paper, sometimes in my head, sometimes in conversation).

What gives me energy? Meeting with prospective clients, meeting with clients, creating a financial planning strategy, creating an investment strategy, and writing. (You might summarize this as “being a financial planner.”)

What drains my energy? Compliance, investment implementation, bookkeeping, hard core tax analysis, managing people, IT. (You might summarize much of this as “running a business.”)

Over the years, I’d find myself doing something I really didn’t enjoy and then chastise myself, “Meg, it’s your business. Why have you given yourself a job you hate? Not so smart, are ye?” Bit by bit I outsourced, delegated, or simply didn’t do those bits.

Do these choices sometimes mean I make less money? Probably. I’m okay with that. I’d rather have a job I thoroughly like than maximize my income (which is plenty high). And also, purely from a financial perspective, a job I like is a job I’m likely to stay in longer, which means I’ll earn more money anyways.

Financial Planner Lessons from 10 Years in Business

“So that’s why I’m so good at this.”

I’ve always been good at a lot of things. All the school subjects, all the sports I tried, etc. But I’ve never been truly excellent in any of them, in part because I’ve never been interested enough to pursue that excellence to the exclusion of other activities. I’ve often considered this a failing on my part, because it means I never stand out.

But financial planning is the ultimate liberal arts profession. It requires you to be good at a wide variety of things, know a wide variety of information, learn new things, and integrate all sorts of disparate inputs into a coherent whole. Which it turns out, I am perfectly suited to. 

My job is to be there when my clients need me.

If you consume enough industry content, it’s really easy to feel that you will never be, do, or know enough for your clients. That other planner has a better process. Oooh, this planner managed that scenario better than I probably would have. Ah damn, that new service might be useful to my clients.

Thankfully, I’ve got a pretty robust sense of self (thanks, Mom and Dad!), but even more powerful is simply observing, over time, that the thing I can do for my clients that serves them best is simply being there when they need me. This is a relationship of trust, and part of what clients are trusting us to be is reliable and present.

This is not the stuff that catchy social media posts or conference presentations are made of. But I strongly believe that it is more important than almost anything else you’ll hear about in catchy social media posts or conference presentations.

Practicing as a financial planner has made me a better conversationalist.

Remember the last time you got into “conversation” with someone who clearly didn’t care that much about what you were saying and was more or less just waiting for their chance to talk, and instead of a conversation, it was just a sequence of disconnected sentences?

Yeah. I hate that. Because I loooove a good conversation.

Practicing as a financial planner and being trained in “life planning” has made me a much better conversationalist. I ask more questions of clients (and everyone else in my life). And then ask follow-up questions to those questions. I am genuinely curious about who people are, what they do, how they feel, what their aspirations are. Conversations are instantly more enjoyable as a result.

Sales isn’t what I thought it was.

Early on in my financial planning career, I doubted that I’d ever be able to make it because I couldn’t “sell.” I couldn’t bear the thought of having the gruff handshake and the forceful personality and wearing a blue blazer and loafers and going to the country club. (Or whatever the female equivalent is.) That was my vision of what successful sales required.

Eventually I discovered that, at least for my and my firm’s needs:

Successful sales = Useful content marketing + Empathy + Trying to be helpful

I’m not trying to convince people whom I don’t have the skills to help to work with me. And for those people whom I can help, the “sale” is usually very natural. There is no need for me to ever feel “salesy.”

Metrics

Flow consists of me and the stalwart Janice, our Client Services Associate.

We have 49 client households. (I plan to stay here, maybe slightly lower. I wouldn’t want to have more than a handful more clients. Yes…I measure clients by the “handful.”)

We have juuuusst shy of $100M AUM.

Thoughts about the profession

I hope that all us planners start from an understanding that this is first and foremost a helping profession. Yes, we can make a good living at it! We can run a profitable business with saleable value!

But we’re not investment advisors. (I mean, legally we’re called Registered Investment Advisors, but functionally we do a different job.) We’re not selling software. This isn’t a very scalable business, assuming our goal is to provide human-centric, comprehensive financial planning. 

Our primary goal, as financial planners, therefore should not be profit maximization. (Again, profit is good! Yay Gordon Gecko! Capitalism rah! I just don’t believe it can be priority #1 and still provide real financial planning.)

I believe this kind of work requires a planner to have no more than 80, maaaybe100 clients. (I mean, I only serve 49 and would rather not go higher.) If you’re a financial professional of some sort directly serving meaningfully more clients, I infer from that that we simply don’t do the same job.

It is because I have such strong beliefs about what true financial planning looks like that I have become a bit grumpy about the industry (or profession) recently.

For one, all the news about VC/PE-funded mega firms that are out there hungrily gobbling up smaller shops like my own. I hope this rollup/acquisition spree goes away. I don’t know enough about those investing models to say they’re bad or good in general, but the incentives are fundamentally at odds with real financial planning. 

If you can 10x profits (or more, which is presumably what VC/PE firms target) in an established financial planning firm, then I don’t see any way that client relationships don’t suffer in the process. (10xing or even 100xing growth is just a matter of spending enough money to buy enough firms. It simply reflects the size of your wallet.)

And for two, are we financial planners or technologists? I am a financial planner who uses technology. I will likely hire someone eventually to help me make my business run more efficiently, blah blah blah. But I’m not spending my precious time exploring the depths of Claude. I’m just not. I’m spending my time learning things and improving skills that directly make me a better financial planner and that I can’t productively outsource. Maybe I’ll look back and conclude this decision was foolish, but I didn’t get into this profession to f*ck around with software; I had enough of that in my previous career. I got into this profession to help people.

Looking Forward

At the end of 2025, when all my cancer treatment was basically done, and I’d physically recovered, my psyche hit a wall. My soul was tired. So, with the help of my fellow PNW women financial planner friends, I declared 2026 to be my Year of Nope. Or, less glibly, my Year of Recuperation.

Maybe, after a sufficient period, I will feel like growing my business or my involvement in the profession again. For now, though, what I have is enough. Enough income. Enough work. Enough clients. Enough recognition. Enough giving back. Enough challenge. Enough time.

Some time in the near-ish future I will hire a consultant to help optimize my business. Someone who already knows the tech and processes and so can allow me to improve all such things without having to do the heavy lifting myself. 

In the meantime, it’s gratifying (and easy) to continually grow as a financial planner. Yes, there are webinars and articles and designations and professional forums. All of which I love. But I grow the most as a financial planner simply by being in relationship with my clients. The more experience with humans and their finances I have, the better a financial planner I become.

Personally, I want to spend time with my far-too-quickly aging daughters, my husband, the rest of my family, and dear friends. Throw in some yoga, weightlifting, and hiking, and maybe a trip here or there. I’m trying to “live my values”—using money as a tool, not a purpose—in the same way I hope I can help my clients live theirs.

Reflections on 9 Years of Flow

Block Woman stands next to a white circular cake-like object that has a single yellow flame above it.

I’ve been thinking about this blog post for over a month now.

Despite starting to think about it such a long time ago (by blogging standards), and despite generally being not at a loss for words, I found myself struggling to write about this last year in business.

[Note: We celebrate Flow’s birthday on May 9. If you want, read my Year 8Year 7Year 6Year 5Year 4Year 3, and Year 2 reflections.]

Eventually I realized, Duh, Meg, you’ve had a physically, psychically, and emotionally exhausting 2025 so far. You just don’t have the energy to write your “usual” blog post.

Prior to last December, my business was stable, which was actually kinda…uncomfortable for me. My business coach counseled me to practice “tolerating the shit out of your success.” I was busy experimenting with this novel idea when December hit.

In December, my stage 0 breast cancer—for which I’d had two lumpectomies and radiation in 2023 and 2024—came back. I had a (single) mastectomy in early March, followed by convalescence for the rest of the month. And since then, I have been catching up.

I don’t want to belabor the whole experience, so let me share something important I took away from it:

It’s Really Nice to Let People Care for You

I often hear from people that it’s hard for them to accept help. When I was preparing for my mastectomy, my OOO, and my recovery, I made a conscious decision to embrace the shit out of letting people help me.

And it. was so. lovely. (10/10, would recommend)

My colleague, Jane Yoo, stood ready to help my clients with any urgent financial planning needs during my convalescence. (I still haven’t figured out a thank you gift that reflects the huge impact of your support, Jane. Sorry!)

My Client Service Associate Janice worked diligently to keep communication going with clients and pushing work forward in my absence.

Clients expressed concern in meetings and via email.

Local colleagues and friends brought my family meals.

Remote colleagues and friends sent us meal kits and Door Dash cards. And even the occasional t-shirt with “Thank fuck that’s over” emblazoned, conveniently, right over the breast that I had removed.

(My husband was all, “Jesus, Meg, how many people do you know?” To which I responded, It’s nice to be a woman. We support each other really well.)

Most important of all, my husband. He made the family “run” throughout it all. He made me feel loved and supported and not like a freakshow in the aftermath of the mastectomy. (Many parts of the whole experience were gross, and many more uncomfortable or painful. But the single worst experience was the first time I looked beneath the bandages just a few days after surgery. It took my breath away, but not in a good “Top Gun” sort of way.)

What Else Happened During My Ninth Year in Business?

I think Cancer and Mastectomy pretty handily trumps most other things. But other important things did happen!

We hired our own planner.

My husband and I hired our own financial planner. I had been our financial planner up until then.

Despite having enough of the technical knowledge to do the job myself, as I had been doing for years, I wanted to work with a financial planner for four reasons. I wanted:

  1. a thinking partner. Life is complicated, and getting increasingly so.
  2. a backup for me/for my family
  3. someone to put me first (as I put my clients first)
  4. someone to Identify my blind spots

Professionally, the whole process of interviewing financial planners and working with ours so far has been instructive to me, unsurprisingly.

Personally, we’ve only been working with him (yes, a man! <gasp>) since January, and I already feel the relief of knowing that someone is in my (our) corner, keeping an eye on things.

I established a formal emergency continuity plan for Flow.

One of the biggest challenges of starting an independent advisory firm is making sure your clients are taken care of if something happens to you (you die or become disabled).

I had been doing what I think most small, independent firm owners did: I arranged (informally) with a few colleagues to help serve my clients in the event I became unable to. The arrangement had meaningful inadequacies:

  1. These colleagues ran firms that probably wouldn’t allow them to assume relationships with all my clients, overnight. Which meant that many of my clients would have to be redirected elsewhere.
  2. My family wouldn’t get any monetary value out of this firm that I’ve spent nine years building.

The firm I now have a legal agreement with is big enough to accommodate all my clients, have a plan for how they’d do that, and sufficient expertise and compassion to serve my clients.

This was a very big deal for me, and I’m very glad it is finally done.

My Associate Planner left.

In mid-January, my associate planner left.

This meant I had to rejigger my plan to support clients before and during my medical OOO. ‘Twas stressful, but I got it done, and I’m quite proud of myself for how I navigated the whole thing.

Without an associate planner, I am back into alllll the weeds of financial planning. And I gotta say, it’s fun. I like the process of forming the “picture on the boxtop” from all the individual puzzle pieces of a person’s financial life. Diving back into the entire process has given me more opportunities to see what might be improved.

Leading up to my surgery, during my convalescence, and for these two or three months back in the office but “catching up,” I made the conscious decision to not think (much) about what to do about no longer having an associate planner. I simply need to “get through” (i.e., work a lot, but it is work I know how to do).

Once I am through this crush, I will raise my head again, like a curious meerkat, look at the expanse of my business and my life, and start thinking Big Thoughts again.

I continue to fall deeper in love with the Annual Renewal Meeting.

I learned from my former marriage therapist that “there is freedom in structure.”

After a client and I get past the first year’s hurly burly, the cornerstone of my client-service structure is the Annual Renewal Meeting. I love this meeting, and I love the structure I’ve created for it. My preparation is structured. My follow-up is structured. Which means I can find real “freedom” in the meeting itself; it can be largely guided by whatever feels most important for the client.

I love this meeting so much, I married it. Wait, no, I mean I wrote a whole blog post about it

I found my professional home.

In 2023, five women business owners and financial planners who live in the Pacific Northwest got together in an Airbnb on the beautiful, dreary coast of Washington (or Oregon, I forget…they’re very close to one another!) for a long weekend business retreat in January.

In 2024, the group met again. Alas, I was starting radiation so couldn’t attend. But in 2025, I did! (We had a bra-burning party on my behalf—bras burn alarmingly easily—as I knew by that time that I’d have to have a mastectomy.)

That weekend was profound. It felt like we’d found a real “home” in the profession. Colleagues (and friends!) who could help each other improve. Celebrate each other’s accomplishments unstintingly. Laughingly demand, “Alright, who farted!” (It was me, okay? You’re the one who fed me lentils!) And also simply hold each other (sometimes literally, sometimes metaphorically) as we talked about hard things. This industry can be full of judgment and hardness. It’s nice to have a safe, soft landing spot.

As I left our 2025 retreat, I asked, “If what I’ve already built in this business is enough to enable me to have weekends like this in my life, why am I so anxious about building anything more or different?”

Looking Forward

Since December, I have had my head down and blinders on, intent on getting myself, my family, my clients, and my business through the entire surgery “thing.” As such, I don’t have any clear ideas about what’s next… other than dedicating time to figuring out what’s next.

Even though I started writing this blog post without much direction, now that I’ve written it, I realize that a big theme is connection and relationship.

It reminds me of a favorite David Brooks opinion piece, in which he talks about the two mountains we climb in life. We climb the first when we’re younger, and on that mountain we try to achieve all the things that “society” tells us we should: money, career, awards, a home, etc. For people on the second mountain, “It’s not about self anymore; it’s about relation, it’s about the giving yourself away. Their joy is in seeing others shine.”

So, I sincerely hope that, whatever comes next, it’ll be less focused on measurement and more focused on connection.

Are you looking for a financial planner and don’t mind one who, at least once a year, does some serious navel-gazing?

Reflections on 5 Years of Flow

In May 2020, just a couple months into quarantine, I wrote in my Reflections on 4 Years of Flow:

The pandemic and the associated economic chaos might well be the defining feature of Year 5. One client has already left Flow as a result of it. Other clients have had their incomes significantly reduced. And yet others are having a much harder time finding new jobs.

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