Payment Plans and Accessibility from the Practitioner’s POV

Not every solo practitioner can offer payment plans, not because we don’t care, but because we do care. A solo practitioner, like myself, is working inside a single body with real limits and fluctuating capacity. My income can’t be abstract.

Sometimes I imagine the question: if you can’t offer payment plans or sliding scales, should you be doing this work? And I’d gently say, what makes you think I’m not offering those things? I do, when I can.

My income needs to be reliable, just like yours. Payment plans stretch income out over time, but the labor I’m doing is happening immediately. What feels like accessibility for one person can mean destabilization for the practitioner. It can mean carrying the full weight of the work, plus the risk of delayed or incomplete payment, plus the administrative tracking, plus the nervous system load of wondering if it will all come through. That’s not reciprocity.

Solo practitioners are not institutions. It’s just me, myself, and I. When I offer a payment plan, I am personally underwriting it with my time and energy.

Access and affordability matter. So does sustainability. If I gave my work away as often as I’m asked to, I would have had to close my doors a long time ago. Because I say “no” most times to payment plan requests, I can offer scholarships from time to time. My '“no’s” helped build the foundation of my work in this world.

Sometimes the boundary is full payment to enter. Not as a gatekeeping move, but as a way to protect my work, my body, my other students, and the culture I’m helping to build.

When I can offer a payment plan, I will say yes.
When I can’t, I will tell you honestly: I can’t afford it.