If you have ever Googled “isolation for firm owners” or felt the sting of “accounting-firm loneliness,” this is for you.
You are not the only one and you never were
Running a firm is lonely.
Even if you have a team. Even if you go to events and smile and say “business is great.”
Even if you are on stage, teaching others how to grow their firms.
That loneliness still creeps in:
- The kind that sits beside you while you stare at the numbers and realize you are not going to make payroll.
- The kind that shows up when you fake a smile at a conference while knowing your bank account is empty.
- The kind that whispers you are the only one screwing this up.
But you are not. And you never were.
Why accounting-firm loneliness hits harder than you think
There is a trap no one warns you about.
You launch a firm. You are ambitious. You are good at what you do. People start looking to you for answers, so you feel like you must have them all.
So you stop asking questions.
You stop saying “I don’t know.”
You stop telling the truth, because you think you can’t afford to look uncertain.
“I think the biggest thing that I learned is that people don’t follow a business. They follow people. So I had to get really comfortable sharing when I was struggling.” - Heather Satterley, Unbalanced Podcast
Everyone thinks you have it handled, because you trained yourself to hide the mess.
When the bottom really drops out
A mash-up of friendly betrayal, a blindsiding lawsuit, and peer stories that prove ugly moments find all of us
Some wounds come from obvious enemies. Others arrive wrapped in a smile.
My co-host Sam Hallburn once let a friend live with her rent-free for 18 months, even bankrolling the friend’s tax-prep launch. As soon as tax season ended, that “friend” took Sam’s client list and workflows and opened her own shop, costing Sam tens of thousands and years of goodwill. Friendly betrayal stings hardest because at 3 a.m. you’re left asking, “How did I miss the signs?”
A client’s lawsuit named me simply because we handled their books. When my E&O insurer pointed to an exclusion, every legal bill was mine. I took predatory loans just to keep payroll going while their lawyer demanded seven figures. The case was dropped, but draining my savings taught me to review my insurance and engagement letters every single year.
And we are not unique. Listen to three colleagues whose stories sit on the same shelf:
- Heather Satterley on a coerced fraud request:
“I had spent weeks cleaning this client up. Then they asked me to falsify numbers. They wanted me to risk my license, my livelihood, my family. I walked out that minute and never went back.”
- Sean Duncan on sabotage from the inside:
“A key employee sabotaged us for years. We discovered almost nine hundred thousand dollars in damages. Twenty-five counts of contempt of court. I had to sue a person I once called family. It consumed every spare dollar and every ounce of emotional bandwidth.”
- Jeanne Hardy on the 2008 free-fall:
“My largest client panicked after the crash and fired me on the spot. I had one-year-old twins, a new full-time hire, and a nanny to pay. I went home convinced the firm was done. I spent the whole of 2009 winding the rest of the book down.”
The roughest moments rarely come from bad bookkeeping itself. They come from humans under pressure. Friends, staff, clients lash out in panic or greed. When the blow lands you feel isolated and ashamed, and that isolation magnifies the damage.
What isolation really does to you
Isolation does not just feel bad. It does bad.
- It makes you say yes to projects that drain you.
- It keeps you tied to team members who manipulate you.
- It convinces you that scope creep is your fault, that you owe more, that you are less.
Sometimes you end up not listening to yourself, and listening to what you think you’re supposed to do. Sometimes you end up exhausted, mentally drained. You are emotionally wrecked, until you realize “holy crap, I’m fried. I can’t do this.”
Chronic isolation doubles burnout risk.
The myth of the perfect firm
Every time I’m coaching and speaking I’m saying it, and I will repeat it here. At my first conference, I asked everyone how their firm was doing, and every single one said it was great. Every time I heard that, I felt more crushed.
But under the shiny answers hide debt, lawsuits, lost clients, health scares, and quiet breakdowns.
How to break the isolation - A field manual edition
We all talk about community. Here is how to actually build it so it holds when the big bad things show up.
1. Build three layers of connection
- Inner circle
Two or three living room people. The ones who can keep a secret, curse with you and still tell you the hard truth. Calendar a ninety-minute Zoom twice a month where no topic is off limits. - Peer mastermind
Six to ten firm owners at or slightly ahead of your stage. Rotate a hot seat. One person bares the ugliest number on their profit and loss and gets crowd sourced solutions. Confidentiality clause mandatory. - Industry tribe
Conferences, Slack channels, LinkedIn groups. Dip in for quick app recommendations or pricing polls. Expect churn. When the vibe turns salesy, exit.
2. Use the four-sentence truth
- 1. State the fact.
- 2. State the fear.
- 3. State what you tried.
- 4. Ask for one specific thing.
Example:
“Cash is fourteen days from zero. I’m terrified I will miss payroll. I cut my draw and delayed rent, but it’s not enough. Does anyone have a short-term financing option they trust?”
3. Diversify your identity
Your firm is not your entire self. Volunteer, train for a 5k, take pottery. Jeanne paints. Sean travels with his kids. I go for walks, craft and bake. Sam hikes at dawn. Have something that does not generate an invoice.
4. Office hours for panic
Isolation loves eleven at night. Schedule panic at two on Tuesdays. Open a notebook, write worst case scenarios, plan contingencies, close the notebook. Training your brain that worry has a container, keeps it from running your life.
5. Therapy is not optional
We preach to clients about hiring experts yet treat mental health as a luxury. One 50-minute session can prevent a $50,000 mistake. Budget for mental health the same way you budget for apps.
You don’t have to be alone to be strong
The Unbalanced Podcast exists to turn whispered confessions into communal strength. Unbalanced, Unafraid, Unstoppable. The moment you say “This is hard and I’m scared,” you gain power, not lose it.
Before another weekend of unspoken panic, try one step. Text a peer:
“Everything looks fine from the outside. It is not fine on the inside. Can we talk?”
Keep texting until someone says yes.
We are all carrying something heavy. We all think we should carry it alone.
None of us were built for that.
Say the thing. Take the hand.
Let’s keep each other in business and in one piece for the long run.
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