It began at 7:00 AM in the biting, sub-zero reality of a Montreal winter.
I stood at the bus stop with my daughter, for thirty-five minutes. The bus was late—a common occurrence in this city, but a brutal one when the wind chill factor is hitting -25°C. For over half an hour, I stood there, feeling the cold seep through my layers, past the wool and the down, until my toes went numb and my face turned a shade of crimson I didn’t know was possible.
In my previous life—the one that spanned fifteen years in high-level finance and operations—this delay would have been a catastrophe. I would have been checking my watch every thirty seconds, calculating the "opportunity cost" of every lost minute, and drafting frantic apologies in my head. I would have been "on" before I even reached my desk, my nervous system already red-lining before the sun was even fully up.
But today, despite the frozen toes and the stinging wind, I felt something I haven’t felt in a decade: I felt 9.5 out of 10 relaxed.
Because today is Day One. Today, I am officially a full-time entrepreneur, a student at Concordia, and the lead architect of a life that finally prioritizes sustainability over endurance.
The Anatomy of the Exit Audit
Leaving the corporate world—most recently, my role at my ex-job—wasn’t a snap decision born of a bad day. It was the result of a rigorous, unemotional "Exit Audit."
In finance, we audit systems to find where value is being lost. We look for the "leaks." But in 2024, after a major burnout that left me physically and mentally sidelined, I realized I needed to apply those same professional principles to my own existence. I had to look at the balance sheet of my life.
On the "Assets" side, the numbers looked great: a senior title, a 15-year track record of making complex operations run like clockwork, and a steady, enviable paycheck. But on the "Liabilities" side, the debt was mounting at an unsustainable interest rate. I was carrying heavy "accounts payable" in the form of nervous system fatigue, creativity postponed for "someday," and a quiet, persistent grief for the version of myself that used to love building things from scratch.
Burnout didn't erase my ambition; it simply clarified it. I realized I didn't want less responsibility—I wanted responsibility that made sense. I wanted to be the one who decided which "meetings" were worth the energy. I wanted to stop trading my health for someone else’s bottom line.
The Generosity of a Monday at Noon
By noon today, the "Quiet Revolution" moved from the bus stop to the driver’s seat of a car. A friend of mine is working toward her driver’s license, and she needed someone with a steady hand and a bit of patience to sit in the passenger seat while she practiced.
In a corporate role, "Monday at noon" is sacred, guarded territory. It is the peak of the workweek, a time usually reserved for "power lunches" or back-to-back status updates. In my old world, helping a friend at noon on a Monday would have required a complex series of calendar maneuvers and a lingering sense of guilt.
But today, I simply looked at my own availability—a schedule I now own—, and I said yes.
We drove through the slushy streets of Montreal. I coached her on parallel parking and navigated the "Regia" grit I developed during my years in Monterrey. We laughed. It was a simple act of service, but it felt like a radical act of defiance against the "hustle culture" that says every hour must be monetized.
Being able to offer my time to a friend isn't "unproductive." It is a reinvestment into the human infrastructure of my life. It is proof that when you reclaim your time, you also reclaim your capacity for kindness.
The System Reboot: Schnitzel, Hot Water, and the Human Clock
When I finally retreated back into the house after that freezing morning, the transition wasn't just mental; it was physical. My husband met me at the door with a bucket of hot water. I sat in our living room, feet submerged, watching my face slowly fade from frozen red back to its natural colour.
That moment was a metaphor for this entire transition. The world out there is cold, demanding, and often indifferent to your comfort. But we have the power to create our own internal warmth.
Later, I stepped into the kitchen to make dinner. This wasn't the rushed, "I have ten minutes before I need to check my email again" meal that defined my corporate years. I pulled chicken from the freezer and made schnitzel from scratch. Hubby handled the steamed carrots. I put on a podcast, and for the first time in months, I was just... present.
I wasn't multitasking. I wasn't drafting a memo in the back of my mind while chopping vegetables. I was peaceful. I was concentrated on the sizzle of the pan and the simple, rhythmic task of preparing a meal for my family. When my daughter walked in from school, the house smelled like home, not like stress. Making a meal that I was actually proud of felt like the first real "dividend" of my new business venture.
Mastery Over Survival: The Concordia Bridge
Right now, as the night winds down, I am finishing my fifth class of the day. I am back in the books at Concordia, deep in the weeds of Business Accounting and Financial Analysis.
Returning to school as an adult, with a degree under my belt and 15 years of experience, is a humbling and exhilarating experience. In my twenties, education was about survival—about getting the degree to get the job to get the security. This time, the learning is about mastery.
I am studying the mechanics of cost flows and manufacturing concepts, not because a boss told me to, but because I want to understand the "why" behind the systems I build for my clients at my own little company. I am strengthening my foundation, so my work can scale without breaking me.
And yes—sometimes mastery requires a two-hour nap in the middle of the day. Today, my nervous system asked for rest, and for the first time, I didn't argue with it. I listened. That nap wasn't a failure of discipline; it was a strategic reboot.
The Horizon: From -25°C to the Heat of Northern Mexico
This "Day One" is just the prologue. In exactly one week, I will be trading the Montreal ice for the 28°C dry heat of Monterrey, Mexico. For two months, my life will stretch across borders, time zones, and roles. I will be a consultant, a student, a daughter, a mother, and a writer.
This isn't an escape from work; it’s an experiment in how work should look. I’m bringing my Master’s studies, my consulting practice, and my family on a journey to prove that systems can be both rigorous and flexible.
I’ve even solved my "mobile office" dilemma. I discovered an app called Spacedesk that lets me use my tablet as a second screen. I already have a multi-monitor setup at my desk in Montreal, but in Mexico, I would have been limited to a single laptop screen. This discovery gave me a professional, dual-screen setup at zero extra cost. It’s a small technical win, but it’s part of the larger goal: designing a life that is "lean" enough to travel but "capable" enough to thrive.
A Message for the Ones Reading This Quietly
If you are reading this and you feel that heavy, low-grade tension in your shoulders—that feeling of being "on" even when you’re supposed to be off—I want you to know that the "Exit Audit" is available to you, too.
You don’t have to wait for a total system failure to start looking at your balance sheet.
The corporate clock rewards endurance. It asks you to stay at the bus stop until you can’t feel your toes, and then it asks you to run a marathon. It views a nap as a liability and a home-cooked meal as a luxury you don't have time for.
The human clock rewards sustainability. It invites you to cook the schnitzel, help a friend, and study accounting with a clear, focused mind. It recognizes that rest is not the opposite of work; it is the fuel for it.
This is the quietest revolution I’ve ever led. There are no fireworks—just the sound of a warm foot bath, the smell of a home-cooked meal, and the deep, unshakable peace of a woman who finally knows exactly what her time is worth.
Stay capable. Stay caffeinated. And most importantly, stay true to your own pace.
Love, Fabi
Transparency Note: I believe in transparency in business and life. This post contains affiliate links for Alison, where I’m currently taking my courses, and Wealthsimple, where I manage the finances for my future business. Using these links supports my journey as I transition to full-time entrepreneurship. Link in bio for the full list of tools I use.
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