There’s a sentence I’ve heard hundreds of times over the years—quietly, almost apologetically, and often with a forced sense of optimism behind it:
I don’t pay myself… yet.
My name is Peter Pastijn. I’ve done over 6,000 coaching calls with hundreds of boutique fitness studio owners from all over the world. Before that, I lived it myself. I operated four physical studios. My first one was tiny. My second one? A massive investment that nearly broke me in the early months. I struggled, stressed, questioned everything. I was fortunate—right place, right time—and things eventually turned around.
But there’s one pattern I’ve seen over and over again, across continents, concepts, and personalities. One belief that quietly destroys businesses from the inside out.
Owners paying themselves last. Or worse—not at all.
And justifying it.
The Lie We Tell Ourselves
“It’s okay. I don’t pay myself yet.”
It sounds responsible. It sounds like sacrifice. It even sounds entrepreneurial.
But let’s challenge that for a moment.
Imagine you’re working for someone else. You show up every day, deliver your best work, care deeply about the outcome. At the end of the month, your employer says:
“Hey, I’m not going to pay you yet.”
How long do you stay?
A week? Maybe two if you’re generous? A month if you’re desperate?
But years?
Because that’s what I hear when studio owners say “yet.” Not months. Years. Two, three, sometimes more.
That’s not strategy. That’s self-abandonment disguised as commitment.
The Reality of “Yet”
I understand where it comes from. I’ve been there.
You see your effort as an investment. You believe that if you just hold on a bit longer, reinvest everything, keep pushing—eventually it will pay off.
And yes, in some cases, that’s true.
But only if there is a clear, defined, time-bound path to getting paid.
Not a hope. Not a feeling. Not “when things pick up.”
A plan.
Because without a plan, “yet” becomes indefinite. And indefinite turns into burnout.
What Actually Happens When You Don’t Pay Yourself
At first, it feels noble. You’re “doing what it takes.”
Then slowly, things start to shift.
You begin to feel financial pressure in your personal life. You justify it—“just a few more months.” You cut corners. You compromise.
Then comes frustration. You’re working harder than ever, but there’s no personal reward. The business starts to feel like a burden instead of a vehicle.
Eventually, resentment creeps in.
And the most dangerous part?
You start to hate the thing you once loved.
The studio. The coaching. The community. The mission.
All of it gets overshadowed by the simple fact that it’s not giving back to you.
A Business That Doesn’t Pay You Is Not a Business
This is the harsh truth, and I say it with full awareness of how uncomfortable it is:
If your business does not pay you, it is not a business.
It’s a hobby. Or worse, it’s a liability.
Money is not a dirty word here. It’s the lifeblood of sustainability. It’s what allows you to keep serving, keep growing, keep showing up.
Without it, you’re running on borrowed energy.
And that always runs out.
So What Should You Do Instead?
If you recognize yourself in this, there are only two real options.
The first one is the uncomfortable one.
Close the business. Or sell it. Pass it on to someone who is willing to structure it in a way that actually serves their life.
Because right now, it’s not serving yours.
The second option is to take responsibility and find a way to pay yourself—starting now.
Not “later.” Not “when things improve.”
Now.
Find Your Income—Even If It’s Outside the Business
Here’s where people get stuck. They think the studio has to carry everything immediately.
It doesn’t.
What is your core skill?
Most studio owners didn’t start as operators. They started as practitioners. Personal trainers. Yoga teachers. Spin instructors. Coaches.
You have a skill that people will pay for.
Use it.
Do 10 personal training sessions a week. Teach extra classes. Take on private clients. Run small group sessions.
Generate income.
And yes, you can even separate that income from the studio if needed. Let the studio grow at its own pace while you make sure your life is financially stable.
There is no shame in that. In fact, it’s one of the smartest moves you can make.
Because stability gives you clarity. And clarity leads to better decisions.
Set a Timeline. Make It Non-Negotiable.
If you are going to delay paying yourself from the business itself, then define exactly how long that period lasts.
Three months. Six months. A year—maximum.
And attach numbers to it.
What needs to happen for you to start paying yourself?
Revenue targets. Membership numbers. Profit margins.
Make it real. Make it measurable.
Because if you don’t define the moment you start paying yourself, it will never come.
The Bottom Line
I’m not saying this to be dramatic. I’m saying it because I’ve seen too many good people burn out, walk away, or fall out of love with something that once meant everything to them.
All because they accepted a reality where their work had no personal reward.
So if you’re sitting there thinking, “It’s okay, I don’t pay myself yet,” I want you to pause.
And I want you to be honest.
Is there a clear path to getting paid?
Or are you just hoping things will work out?
Because hope is not a strategy.
And your time, your energy, your life—those are too valuable to invest in something that gives nothing back.
Pay yourself.
Or build a plan that makes it inevitable.
Anything else is just delaying the moment you’re forced to face the truth.