Every year since I started in real estate, my business grew. Year over year, more production, more clients, more momentum. I wasn’t just surviving in this industry — I was building something. And that consistency gave me a quiet confidence going into this past year.

Which is exactly why this stretch hit differently.

My last solo closing was September of last year. That’s a hard sentence to type, but it’s the truth.

Earlier this year, I had two closings — but both were collaborations with other agents. I was grateful for those, genuinely. But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t sting just a little, knowing I hadn’t brought one home entirely on my own in months.

Then came two listings that really tested me — and both in the same painful way.

The first had been on the market for nearly four months. We finally got a full-price offer — exactly what you work toward. And then the seller pulled it off the market due to tax implications they hadn’t fully accounted for. Nothing I could do. The deal was there. The price was right. It just wasn’t meant to close.

The second was a seller who wanted the sale contingent on finding a replacement property. We did our job — found them a replacement, got them into contract on it. And then they backed out of that contract, which meant we pulled the listing too.

I’ve had listings I was collaborating on just sit on the market, too. Weeks turning into months with no real movement. In surfing, we call it a lull. The ocean goes quiet. You’re sitting out there on your board, waiting, and you start to question everything — your positioning, your reads, your timing. Real estate has its version of that same silence.

My trainer talked about the ebb and flow. My mentors did too. I heard it early and I heard it more than once. But when you’re new to the industry and business is growing every year, those words don’t land the way they’re meant to. You file them away somewhere and keep moving, because nothing in your experience has given them real weight yet.

Now I’m heading into my fourth year as a full-time agent. And this year, I finally understood what they were talking about — not because I read it again or heard it in a training, but because I lived it. I felt it.

The important thing — and I want to be clear about this — is that I never stopped doing the work. I didn’t pull back. I didn’t change course or abandon the habits and effort that had been building my business year after year. I kept showing up. What was happening around me was largely out of my control. The market, the timing, the circumstances — none of that was mine to dictate. I just had to trust the process and stay the course.

Then came May.

I don’t know exactly what shifted — a combination of timing, seeds I’d planted months earlier, and maybe the market just starting to move again — but things started happening. Fast.

It didn’t trickle in. It kind of arrived all at once, the way a good swell does after a long flat spell. You wait, you wait, you wait — and then suddenly you need to be ready, because the waves are stacking up and you’ve got to be positioned to catch them.

The lifestyle looks appealing — and it can be. Being your own boss, building something, helping families find homes in one of the most beautiful places on earth. That’s real, and it’s meaningful work. But go in with eyes open.

• 1
  Your income is not guaranteed. There is no paycheck on Friday just for showing up.
• 2
  The slow periods are not optional. They happen to everyone, including the experienced agents you look up to.
• 3
  Consistency during the lull is what separates those who make it from those who don’t. The work you do when nothing is closing is what creates the wave you’ll eventually ride.
• 4
  Collaboration isn’t a consolation prize. Some of my best professional relationships have come from working alongside other agents. Don’t let pride get in the way of good business.
• 5
  Stay connected to your “why.” Mine is my family. Every showing, every late-night contract review, every moment of uncertainty is tied back to them. When the ebb gets long, that’s what keeps me paddling.