November 19, 2024
Running a business is relentless.
There is the constant jet lag, mental and physical fatigue, loneliness, significant setbacks, drama, long nights, and considerable laws/regulations you’ve never heard of (so much red tape!!).
No wonder I fall asleep within 20 seconds of hitting the pillow, only to wake up at 4 am, with my body tired but my mind racing. But those are just regular days.
Some days, it’s even crazier. Consider COVID.
Before COVID, we typically billed advertisers once a year on March 31 for all services performed the year before. We did this to help them with cash flow. For 5 years, we had zero issues with non-payment. Then, in 2020, three-quarters of the people decided not to pay us, some even baiting me to “sue them.” We needed that money for cash flow to pay our taxes, employees, and suppliers.
It got worse. In May, the book distributor for our self-published book went bankrupt, and with it, six figures of inventory went poof. Of course, the bank that seized their property was more than willing to sell our inventory back to us.
We canceled planned events and returned all the money to the people who booked. They didn’t pay for an online event, so it was right to return their money.
I never anticipated my bank accounts could drain so quickly.
It doesn’t stop there. I was trying to do right by our employees (we never laid anyone off and often sent family meals and cases of wine to them).
When I could, I went out of my way to support local businesses (after all, we’re part of an ecosystem).
Oh, and, the city I lived in was also the most locked-down city in the Western world. I violated “laws” daily, only to have neighbors report me to local law enforcement (repeatedly). The “laws” I violated were seeing family and running a homeschool for my kids.
During COVID, I set up three homeschools for my kids (and their friends) and hired three different teachers over the next few years with the help of some other parents. The kids never missed a day. The first edition of the homeschool (March 2020-June 2020) even published our guest lectures online so others could learn with us. We made yearbooks. The kids learned to cook.
But I felt the weight of the world on me. I was taking care of everyone (friends, family, employees), was constantly being told what I was doing was wrong, and quickly draining bank accounts to make it all happen.
Was I burnt out? I don’t know, and it didn’t matter. I didn’t have a choice. Too many people needed me. And that’s how I found myself lying in bed one night, wishing the world made sense. I wanted things to be different, I wanted help, and most of all, I wanted everything to end.
The stress made me cry. It almost broke me. It almost bankrupted us. But almost doesn’t count.
Everything changed when I stopped bargaining with reality and started adapting.
If the world wasn’t going to change, what could I do to survive and thrive? This question changed everything for me because instead of focusing me on things I can’t control it made me focus on the little things I could control.
Among other things, I cut alcohol, started eating better, went to bed on time, and spent more time with friends. I bought a sauna—the first thing I’ve ever bought for myself—and used it every day. I worked out, stopped reading news, and set aside 90 minutes a day to write—what would become Clear Thinking.
An entrepreneur is always on. Even when there isn’t an external crisis, work is all-consuming. There are things I want to do, companies I want to start, books I want to write, things I want to give to the world, and people I want to learn from. And most of all, I want to improve what we’re already doing. We need to be better.
I’m obsessed. But I’m not alone.
I often wonder where this obsession comes from. Why am I so driven?
To be an entrepreneur is to constantly wrestle with the gap between where you could be and where you are today. This is why I think about work when I’m on a date. This is why I wake up at 4 am. This is why I am lonely in a room full of people.
And while I don’t quite know how to live with all of this, I know I don’t want to live without it.
I’m not sharing this because I want sympathy or because my story is unique, but because it’s important to offer an unfiltered perspective on what running a business really entails.
Millions of entrepreneurs never switch off. While they might appear to have it all together, on the inside, they’re often little more than a loosely functioning disaster held together by duct tape. Be gentle with them.