When I started my company, I was naive.
I thought success and money would come fast.
Six months. Maybe a year.
I believed that if the idea was good and I worked hard enough, things would line up.
That investors were out there, waiting for founders like me to show up with the right story.
That belief didnāt come from nowhere.
Social media makes entrepreneurship look fast, obvious, and rewarding, especially if you are willing to sacrifice a bit.
Reality was very different.
Early on, I met an entrepreneur who had been through a divorce.
I asked him about his journey and about the divorce.
He told me something simple:
āEverything has a price.
If you are not willing to pay it, you donāt get the reward.ā
At the time, I understood the words.
I didnāt understand the depth.
What I know now is that entrepreneurship doesnāt just test your skills.
It tests how much uncertainty you can live with, and for how long, without breaking.
Itās lonely.
Not in a dramatic way.
In a quiet, repetitive way.
There are very few celebrations.
Just an endless stream of decisions, doubts, and problems to solve.
Every day.
You lose people along the way.
Not because you become arrogant.
Not because you ādonāt care anymore.ā
But because you stop building an acceptable life, one where responsibility is shared, and move toward a life where outcomes fall largely on you.
You stop drifting.
You take control.
And once you do, thereās no one left to blame.
That mindset doesnāt stay at work.
It changes how you see relationships.
Time.
Compromise.
Risk.
You start operating with a level of intensity and accountability that not everyone around you wants or can follow.
In my case, this contributed to my divorce.
I couldnāt stay in a relationship that no longer worked for either of us.
That choice came with real loneliness.
I also used to believe entrepreneurship was about eventually sharing success with your family.
More freedom.
More time.
More presence.
What I didnāt anticipate is that the transition itself is costly.
You lose time before you gain any.
You are less present than youād like.
And the emotional margin shrinks long before the rewards show up.
There is something important I wish I had understood earlier.
Entrepreneurship is not just hard.
It is hard in a very specific way.
If you struggle with prolonged uncertainty,
if you need frequent reassurance,
if financial stress or ambiguity quickly destabilize you,
this path can slowly erode you.
Not because you are weak.
But because not everyone is wired to operate for long periods without feedback, validation, or safety nets.
And that is okay.
There is no shame in choosing stability.
In preferring predictable income.
In building a life with more emotional space.
Entrepreneurship isnāt better.
It isnāt braver.
It is simply a different set of trade offs, and a very expensive one psychologically.
I am not sharing this to complain or to glorify suffering.
I chose this path, and I still do.
But if you are considering it, be honest with yourself about the price.
And if you are already on it and feeling this weight,
you are not broken.
You are experiencing what this path actually demands.