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No. 10 · letter ten

Your personal EBITDA.

On the number you would demand from any company you owned. Now run it on yourself.

You would never value a company on its best quarter. You would never let someone show you a great year built on a one-time sale and call it earnings. You know the difference between what a business truly produces and what merely landed in it. You strip out the noise. You normalize. You ask the only question that matters. What does this thing earn in the ordinary course.

You have never once asked that question about yourself.

Most women measure their financial life by the balance in the account. But a balance is a snapshot, and snapshots lie. A good month and a windfall look identical in a checking account. The bonus, the sale of the house, the gift, the tax refund, they all pool in the same place as the steady engine of what you actually earn. So you cannot tell, on any given day, whether you are looking at your income or at your luck.

EBITDA exists to end exactly that confusion in a business. It says, quietly, show me the engine. Strip the one-time events and the financing. Show me what this produces when nothing unusual happens. That is the honest number. That is the one you would insist on before buying anything.

So this week, one rep. Run it on yourself. Take the last twelve months of money that came in. Now strike out everything that will not repeat. The bonus, if it is not dependable. The one-time gain. The gift. What remains is your engine. Divide it by twelve. That is your real monthly earning power, normalized, stripped of luck.

It will not match the story in your head. For some women the number is smaller than they assumed, because they had been counting the windfalls. For others it is far larger and steadier than they let themselves believe, because they only ever checked the account on a bad day. Either way, you now know something you did not know last week.

You now know your engine. What it makes when nothing unusual happens. That is the number to build on. Everything real starts there.

Quietly, Aleesha