The past 2 weeks have been filled with reflection about the fate of my startup and my team. I’ve opened up the throttle and worked to find a solution. We’ve trimmed our fat, doubled down on working any source of cash we have while we explore the potential of a much loved pivot. A mental exercise that is closer to masturbation as it keeps my team motivated and forward looking in a situation that is almost certainly doomed. We’re frantically trying to shovel ourselves out of this mess while looking toward an oasis that is likely just a mirage.



Lately, as we paddle furiously beneath the surface of our death pool, I keep looking back at all the personal sacrifices I made over the past two years. The sacrifices that most founder make and that nobody really talks about.



Everyone puts in intense work, blood, sweat and tears. Many BRO-EO’s talk about how important this is and boast about what they’ve given up on their path to success (and many more boast about what they’ve given up without realizing their fate will be the same as mine)



Being Absently There



I can’t count how much advice I’ve gotten on work life balance. You can try time management schemes, forcibly limit your working hours, and even tear yourself away from your mac for time disconnected. The thing is, none of this works for a founder. In my case, it’s because of a serious emotional attachment to my work.



I make it a point to tear myself away and play. Whether it be through a really long run, working on my home or interacting with family. I can (usually) put my phone away and go out into the world. The thing is, everything seems colored. Runs that should be meditative and focused on how your body feels as it knocks back mile after mile are instead spent strategizing a biz dev deal. Housework slows do a snail pace as you vacuum the same square foot dozens of times, lost in thought. Family time is the worst. You’re present, but not really present. You hear what’s spoken, and get really good at following the discussion, smiling when you need to smile. You’re not really listening though. You’re not really there.



There’s nothing as alienating as having a child come to you with excitement in their eyes, sharing a story with you, and realizing after he’s done that you don’t remember a thing he told you about despite having laughed and expressed wonder about his tale.



Forgetting what “Success” Means



When we started this business and noted our conditions for success, we listed the obvious ones, “Social Change”, “An exit that gives us ‘Fuck you’ money”, “Becoming an integral part of the lives of millions"



Give me a fucking break.



These goals are awesome, I still want to live my life in a way that improves society in some way. I want to make my contribution and have it matter. Looking back at that list, I can’t believe I ever considered those things to be indicators of success.



Success isn’t about fame, wealth or disruption. When I look to the most successful man I have met, he’s barely earned a million dollars over the course of his long life. He’s always punched a clock of some sort. He lived responsibly and frugally, always saving for a rainy day that never seemed to come.



His secret? He loved. He loved his wife. He loved his parents. He loved his children. His grandchildren. He believed in them when others wouldn’t. He loved his kids that went astray. He’s my grandfather. Today, everyone he has touched is passing their love on to others in their lives.



That’s what success is. Want to really disrupt the world? Do your part to make its inhabitants better people.

An Expensive Hobby (or How I learned to stop worrying and love indentured servitude)



We worked hard to keep our funding announcement from the press even though it did make the rounds indirectly. Old colleagues and acquaintances who had laughed at my startup dream before had suddenly come out of the woodwork and tried to connect with me.



Venture funding and a C-level title - I must be on my way to buying a boat right? The truth is, from a personal perspective, this startup has caused me to bleed my savings and affect my personal financial goal. There’s a quiet pressure from the board to take a microscopic salary. For the most part, I agree with this as it ensures that founders are incentivized to grow the value of the equity they hold while freeing capital to pay key team members.



However, despite the fact that I understand why I’m making a pittance, each day that I spend at this salary is putting me closer to being in debt. I’m stretching each dollar further than I ever have. I’m worried about actually starting a family of my own since I don’t have means to support them comfortably (either financially or emotionally).



I’m a trooper though, because after all, if we get acquired for anything near our seed-round’s valuation my mortgage will be paid and I can afford to procreate. It’s gonna happen, isn’t it?

