A successful lawyer in her early sixties attended a succession planning workshop. Engaged throughout. Asked thoughtful questions. Stayed after to talk.
“I need this,” she said. “Maybe even more help than you’re offering.”
They scheduled their first coaching call.
Two weeks later, she sent an email: “It’s too much money. I need to do research. Maybe after January.”
What Really Happened
It wasn’t about money. She bills more in a single day than the monthly coaching fee.
And it wasn’t about timing. January won’t be different than November.
What happened was this: She went back to her practice. Got pulled into the daily grind. And the fear kicked in.
The Fear Nobody Talks About
If she hires a coach, she’s admitting she can’t figure this out alone.
If she starts succession planning, she’s admitting it’s time to transition.
If she brings in help, she’s admitting she can’t sustain this forever.
And if she can’t sustain this forever, what does that say about who she is?
That’s the real fear. Not the cost. The identity crisis hiding underneath.
But there’s something even deeper she said: “My practice has no value without me. Once I’m gone, nobody’s going to want this.”
If her practice only has value when she’s there, what does that say about her worth?
That’s the fear below the fear: “If this only matters because of me, do I matter?”
The Pattern
This happens constantly:
Someone has a moment of clarity. They see their situation clearly for the first time in years. They get excited. Ready to change.
Then they return to normal life. The fear catches up.
The fear says: “You don’t really need help. Just get through this busy season.”
So they retreat with rational-sounding reasons:
- “Too much money right now”
- “Need to think about it more”
- “Maybe after the holidays”
The Cost
This lawyer also mentioned experiencing “a terrible bout of vertigo.”
Her body was trying to tell her something she wouldn’t let herself hear.
Because listening would mean admitting this isn’t sustainable. And admitting that means changing something.
Which feels scarier than just powering through.
The Truth About Timing
January won’t be different. There will be another case, another client crisis, another emergency only she can handle.
There’s never perfect timing for this work.
“Maybe after January” becomes “maybe after spring” becomes another year gone.
For insights on why accomplished professionals resist the help they need—and what belief about their own value keeps them stuck—read our complete analysis on sustainable law firm leadership.
The question isn’t whether you can afford help. It’s whether you can afford to keep building something that has no value without you in it.
