Hitting €10k/Month Made Me Realize I'd Built a Cage

Two months ago I hit my €10,000 month. I'd been chasing that number for 10 years.

But I didn't celebrate. I'd built a really expensive cage.

The number itself didn't set me free. It just showed me more clearly what kind of prison I'd built.

The Sweet Spot That Became a Ceiling

I stumbled into web design because it hit all the right buttons for my brain. Immediate visual feedback. Each project a new puzzle to solve. Technical enough to stay interesting, but not so complex it becomes overwhelming.

The "in-between" position—talking to clients and actually building what they want—turned out to be valuable. There are Developers that can't communicate well. There are Designers that can't code. I could do both.

For a while, this was perfect. After working hard for years and failing, I had reached a comfortable position eventually. I could take on variety, work when my brain wanted to work, solve interesting problems. The ADHD reward centers were firing.

But then something shifted.

I found a sweet spot with clients around €3,000-€5,000 per project. They have the budget to take things seriously, but they're not the demanding nightmare clients you get at higher price points. They're easier to work with. They don't expect the world.

Sounds great, right?

Except the math doesn't work. Even in very good months hitting €10,000, that's just revenue. Subtract taxes, costs, the months that aren't "very good"—and I'm left with a salary. A decent salary, sure. But no path to financial freedom. No escape velocity.

I realized I'd hit my ceiling.

Five Projects Was My Ceiling

Five projects running simultaneously. That's where my brain maxed out.

Not because I couldn't handle the technical work—I could knock out any single project in a hyperfocus sprint. The problem was the context-switching. Five different clients. Five different sets of expectations. Five different feedback loops. Plus family demands outside of work.

I took those five projects because I wanted the money. You never know when your next client is coming.

My brain needs 30-plus minutes to build momentum. But client management fragments everything into smaller chunks.

I'd built a business that rewarded my ADHD traits at first—quick feedback loops, variety, autonomy. But at scale, it punished them. Too many feedback sources. Project management instead of creative work.

The parts of web design I loved were drowning in the parts I didn't sign up for.

My Worst Client Experiences

Let me tell you about the worst client I ever had.

Early in my career, desperate for any work I could get. I was making a few hundred euros per month, had a one-year-old kid, and took whatever came my way.

This guy was so skeptical, so distrustful, that he required me to come to his office and work at his computer while he logged in. He sat next to me the entire time, smoking cigarettes, watching my every click.

I couldn't get into flow. He'd interrupt me with questions constantly. Not curious, learning-type questions—just distrust and skepticism wrapped in interrogation.

Looking back, the money was terrible and the experience worse. But I stayed because I thought I had to.

It taught me a lesson, though it took years to fully learn it: some money isn't worth taking.

Then there was the Swedish exchange student. She approached me about building a retreat center website. Very persuasive. Made it sound important, meaningful work. I liked her energy initially.

We started working and she mentioned she could pay $200 total. I said that was too little. She pushed back, said we'd figure something out. I was making a few hundred euros per month at the time, so I kept hoping we could meet at a price that worked for both of us.

One or two weeks later, in our next meeting she told me—almost proudly—that she was getting €1,500 per month on a university scholarship for doing basically nothing. She'd "hacked the system."

I had a one-year-old at home. I was working long hours for a few hundred euros while she was getting triple that for not studying. And she basically told me my work wasn't worth paying for.

That felt like a punch in the face.

Both these experiences taught me something crucial: business isn't friendship. Some clients don't give a shit about you or fair exchange. And if you don't set boundaries, you'll work yourself to death for people who see you as disposable.

Now don't get me wrong: I've since worked with awesome clients as well. Some have even become friends and it was great to help them with their project. But the realization that this line of work at scale doesn't get me closer to my goals still holds true.

Why This Doesn't Scale

I took on five projects because ADHD brains crave stimulation and variety. But variety becomes chaos at scale.

My executive function was maxed out managing logistics instead of doing creative work. More energy on context-switching than creation.

This is a business that depends entirely on my time. Service work only scales with capacity. ADHD brains have limited capacity for fragmented attention.

I found my ceiling at five projects. Not because I'm not smart enough or don't work hard enough. My brain cannot sustain that many parallel attention streams without burning out.

When It Clicked

A few months back, in the middle of those five projects, I was hitting my income goals, checking all the boxes.

But I felt miserable.

Not because the work was bad or the clients were terrible. Most were great. The work was interesting enough. The money was decent.

But I felt trapped. I'd spent 10 years building toward this—€10,000 months, multiple clients, consistent work—but I'd built a more expensive version of a job I couldn't quit.

Take time off? Revenue stops. Get sick? Income disappears. Want to work on something new? You have to squeeze it into gaps between client demands.

Vacation? Work extra now to work less later. No such thing as paid vacation.

I'd traded stability for volatility, without gaining the freedom I wanted.

Service Work: The Progress Illusion

Service businesses feel like progress while you're building them. Each new client, each price increase, each month hitting revenue goals.

But there's a moment when you realize you've been running in place.

You're making decent money. You've got skills. You have clients who pay on time and don't make your life hell.

But you're exhausted. You can't scale past your time. You can't take three weeks off without revenue dropping to zero. A bad week affects multiple clients.

ADHD brains work in hyperfocus sprints with recovery periods. Deep, uninterrupted blocks. Context-switching drains the battery. Service work fights this.

The Wrong Questions

For 10 years, I asked: "How do I scale this? How do I get better clients? How do I increase my rates?"

Not bad questions. I learned a lot trying to answer them.

But the wrong questions for where I wanted to go.

The right question: "How do I transition FROM service work TO something that works with my brain instead of against it?"

I'm not a web designer at heart. I'm a knowledge synthesizer who learned to design and code. I learned building websites because I wanted to write a blog and publish what I've learned. But I struggled to monetize that knowledge and finding clients who needed websites was more straightforward. I love diving deep into research, connecting patterns across domains, creating systems. Web design was a way to monetize technical skills.

I confused the vehicle for the destination.

What I'm Doing About It

I'm walking away from that path, off into unmarked territory.

I've just finished my last client projects for the year. That gives me runway—enough to not panic while I build something different.

After that, I’ll take one €3,000 project per month maximum. Simple websites for professionals easy to work with.

That's it. One project. No juggling.

The rest of my time goes into building research-based digital products. Things I can create during hyperfocus sprints that keep working while I recover. Assets that compound instead of trading hours for dollars.

Will it work? I don't know.

Staying in the trap guarantees more of the same. This at least points somewhere different.

What I'm Building

I'm documenting this transition. Everything I'm learning about moving from service work to products.

I'm writing a guide—systems, templates, checklists for this specific transition. The things I wish I'd had. I'm also building the ADHD Life Dashboard—task management and energy tracking that works with how ADHD brains actually function. I'm building it as I go, testing everything first.

This blog documents the messy middle. The guide & dashboard package what actually works.

If This Sounds Familiar

If you've hit your income goals and somehow feel more trapped than free—you're not alone. The system you built isn't wrong. It's just not a fit for your brain.

ADHD brains don't do steady-state productivity. Fragmented attention across clients drains us. "Be more consistent" doesn't work.

Deep focus. Recovery periods. Natural cycles. That's what we need.

Stop optimizing systems that weren't designed for how you actually work.

I'm documenting this transition—systems, mistakes, what works. I haven't figured it out. I'm working through it.

If you're wondering if there's a way out: I'm finding it. You're welcome to follow along.