I Teach Decision-Making. I Still Got Trapped.
What $5,000 in sunk costs taught me about protecting the plan instead of my peace
Trap Therapy™ is the weekly interruption your protective patterns didn’t ask for — but desperately need if you’re done abandoning yourself.
I should’ve known better.
I study how people make decisions for a living—why we stay, why we leave, why we convince ourselves that “just one more try” will fix everything. But there I was, staring at a list of Medicare leads I didn’t want to call, trying to talk myself into loving a business that was draining me.
I’d already spent over $5,000 getting licensed, branded, and certified. AHIP certification—twice, because I had to retake the exam.
Hundreds on license renewals.
$1,850 Registered Social Security Analyst certification with an exam scheduled for next month.
$2,200 agent website. Lead generation systems charging me every time a name appeared in my inbox.
Every part of me wanted to walk away, but my mind kept whispering: You’ve already invested too much to quit now.
That’s when it hit me—the sunk cost fallacy isn’t just about money. It’s about the fear of admitting a chapter’s over, even when the next one’s begging to begin.
The Bargain We Make with Denial
For weeks, I tried to out-logic my own resistance.
I told myself I just needed to “give it more time.”
I told myself that success takes persistence and real entrepreneurs push through the hard parts.
But it wasn’t grit I was practicing—it was denial.
I’d wake up every morning with that sinking feeling in my stomach, open my inbox to a flood of marketing emails about “how to sell more policies.”
I kept clicking, hoping one more training or lead system would flip the switch. Each swipe of the credit card felt like a bet on a version of myself I didn’t even want to be.
Still, I clung to it. Not because it was working, but because I couldn’t stand the thought of explaining another pivot. There’s a strange shame in changing your mind when you’ve already announced a plan.
You start protecting the plan instead of your peace.
The Moment I Let It Go
One morning I sat staring at my laptop, lead list open, coffee gone cold.
I’d spent an hour rehearsing a call I already knew I didn’t want to make.
My chest felt tight, my body heavy.
That was the moment I stopped trying to think my way out of it and just listened.
The truth was embarrassingly simple: I didn’t want this life.
I want to teach, write, coach—to use my voice, not a sales script.
I’d traded joy for a sense of control, and even that illusion was slipping.
So I closed the laptop.
Just sat there.
No dramatic declaration.
No delete-everything rampage. Just... stopped.
The relief was immediate. Then came the fear.
What will people think?
What about all that money?
What about the exam next month?
But underneath both was something quieter: the sound of my own voice, finally audible again, saying this is the way forward.
I didn’t delete the business that day. I didn’t cancel everything in a fury.
I just stopped forcing it. I let the silence tell me what was next.
That day taught me that quitting isn’t weakness—it’s wisdom disguised as surrender. The sunk cost wasn’t the money; it was the energy I kept spending to stay misaligned.
Once I accepted that, everything softened. I could breathe again.
The Real Cost of Misalignment
Alignment doesn’t always announce itself with confidence.
Sometimes it whispers through exhaustion, dread, or brain fog.
Sometimes it sounds like the voice that says, This isn’t it, and that’s okay.
We love to glorify perseverance, but there’s a thin line between persistence and punishment. When your peace is the price, the cost is already too high.
I’m working on not regretting the $5,000 investment.
Some days I’ve made peace with it—an expensive lesson in self-trust.
Other days I want to kick myself.
Both are true. Both are allowed.
What I know for certain: that letting go can be an act of power. That sometimes the bravest decision you can make is to walk away from what once made sense.
There’s a $1,850 certification exam scheduled for next month. I’m not taking it.
Not because I’m lazy or giving up—because I’m choosing alignment over obligation. Because I’m done protecting a plan that was never mine to begin with.
Get Untrapped with Me
IIf this story hit a nerve, you’re not alone.
I’m spending the next 90 days documenting what happens when you actually choose alignment over sunk costs—the messy middle, the doubt spirals, the unexpected relief. If you’re standing at a similar crossroads, subscribe and come with me.
Every Tuesday, I’ll share what I’m learning.
Want to understand your own trapped decision pattern? Take the free quiz here: [link]
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Decision Diary Prompt
Think about the thing you keep trying to make work.
What would it mean to release it—not as failure, but as faith that something truer is ready to take its place?
If this reflection stirred something in you, share it with someone who might be standing at their own crossroads. Sometimes permission travels faster when it’s passed hand to hand.