The day I decided to quit.
Disclaimer: As I re-read this article, I realized how negative the focus can seem. It’s not to say that I hated my startup founding experience — I did have fun, and it was fulfilling in a few ways.
I just needed to unpack and share the whole story, and highlight my main learnings in the process.
These last 4 months have been… odd. I’m not sure how to qualify them. As I look back, I feel I was out of it — out of my own head. Let’s rewind for a minute.
A cool lady asked me to join her in co-founding a startup around a cool idea.
Wait. I want to start a startup.
Isn’t that perfect? I didn’t think twice: I jumped right in.
The beginning
Excited and creative
I went ahead and started absorbing everything I didn’t know about the business. I would enthusiastically, yet somehow timidly make suggestions and share triggered thoughts.
Holding back
A few things started holding me back. I found myself feeling bad about taking initiatives as I felt they were not so welcomed. I started falling back into a pattern I’ve observed in my own behavior before:
I don’t know as much as the other team members, so I’m not entitled to speak up.
The middle
Unbalanced work
- Too fast. Everything went too fast.
My cofounder adapted to new information way faster than I did — sometimes, I’d think she wasn’t making any sense, but I realized she was just able to incorporate changes and feedback much quicker than I was.
We were imposing crazy goals to ourselves. Each week was more hectic than the previous one.
And maybe that’s how it had to be — we got results, we kept moving forward.
But I would feel frustrated intellectually, because by the time we would start testing something, we would already move on to the next one.
In our team dynamic, it felt like something was chasing us, but I couldn’t resolve myself to understand what that was.
I don’t know if it can work, but I kept fantasizing about the The Happy Startup School, where they actually advocate to slow down.
- No more yoga.
I had arranged my schedule to be able to go to my favorite teacher’s classes, but that was also a time when my cofounder was free, and I found it hard to make it non-negotiable.
I’d feel guilty whenever I would try to make some me-time.
My body started shutting down and sending signs of uneasiness– I got sick out of the blue several times.
- No more quality sleep.
I was thinking about the startup days and nights — it was the last thing I thought of, I dreamed about it, and I woke up jumping out of bed to work on it.
My days would start and end in the worst possible way: with no intentionality, and being reactive to whatever was going on with the business.
- No more writing.
Had no energy for that anyway. And whenever I’d think of it, I would feel that I had to generate content for the startup. Pass.
- No more friends. No time for that.
I felt really lonely.
My friends would see me so little that they started associating me to the startup completely.
From “How are you?”, their first question became “How is the startup?” followed-up by inquiries about the current state of the business.
I got fed-up with that pretty quickly — which strengthened my isolation. I would put-up a good smile and unsuccessfully try to avoid discussions about the startup.
What was your Why again ?
I still remember the first time my cofounder asked me why I decided to join. We were getting out of a 2-day bootcamp, and I panicked.
Quick, I have to find something compelling to say. Use her words. Reinforce. Add a sprinkle on it.
Although I wasn’t consciously trying to fool her, others and myself about my motivation, that’s what ended up happening.
Ignoring the signs
Several times, we had some talks with mentors, professors, and other contacts during which I would get a little mental alarm that I’d ignore.
Notably, we chatted to an entrepreneure who tried to launch the exact same idea as ours a few years ago.
As she shared her experience, including many tensions with her ex-cofounder, I could relate to a few warnings she was raising. I could tell it resonated with my cofounder too. But I didn’t say anything.
There was also a little voice in my head. When someone would talk about the potential of the idea failing, I would think:
I hope it fails really, really fast, so that I can get out of it quickly.
Yikes.
Lack of ownership
I never felt like it had become my project, which made it hard to authentically pour my heart into it.
I told myself: “It’s going to get better. We’ll have a chat. It will improve.”
We tried. We tried to improve on our internal communication and processes. But the hectic-ness and high levels of stress were a barrier to building a true sense of partnership.
We never made time for actual team-building outside of work, which was a big mistake. We got along, but we didn’t know each other that well, and it was stupid of us to assume we did.
On both side, resentment increased and trust decreased.
The end
Lack of accountability and commitment
I hated waking up in the morning. I’d be relieved when I could cancel something. I had stuff to get done, but I cared less and less, and would do my best to avoid work. I even escaped to D.C. at some point, in spite of the amount of work, as I felt I needed to get out of Berkeley.
Soul-sucking
Although it might sound dramatic, it did feel that way. I became a ghost to myself.
I would often break down and cry my eyes out. I’d have anxiety attacks — short-breathed, completely losing it, and a feeling to be trapped.
The trigger
My best friend came to visit for a holiday. We had been talking about taking a road-trip in California for years, and the time had finally arrived.
However, when she arrived, it’s like I wasn’t there. I didn’t have the energy to be present, and I made her feel like I didn’t want her here. Which I didn’t, to be honest.
I was so drained that I was just dreaming of being alone, in bed, and do nothing.
She confronted me and asked me what the hell I was doing. Why was I sacrificing so much? Did I care so much about this venture that I was ready to jeopardize such a strong and long-lasting friendship?
How will you feel if it fails? How will you feel if it succeeds?
I don’t care — I said. To be honest, in either cases, I don’t care.
“Best case, it skyrockets, we sell it and I make a lot of money.”
Great. Because by then, I’ll be on my own. I would have lost my friends, loved ones, and health.
It became clear that there was only one decision that made sense, and I realized I was the one who was keeping myself hostage.
I could actually stop anytime I wanted.
I just needed the courage to do it.
The fears
Afraid of what others would think
I’ve been talking about entrepreneurship for years now.
I’ve told all my network I’m doing this full-time.
How is it going to look if I stopped so quickly?
If I quit?
I’m just going to seem weak. No way.
Afraid of how my cofounder would take it
I committed to her. I said I would go full-time.
We’ve had the uncomfortable talks about equity.
We’ve started planning the post-graduation plans. Incubators’ applications and interviews are right around the corner.
If I leave her now, what’s going to happen to -her- baby?
Afraid of what it meant about myself
I’m not a quitter.
I’m a strong, determined woman.
I’m cut-out for startups.
“If I quit now, none of the above is true anymore.”, or so I feared.
The after-quitting
After I decided, I became cheerful again. I started breathing again.
I could physically feel the difference.
I enjoyed the holiday with my best friend, started catching up with other people. I started feeling a new urge to write, with tons of ideas flowing.
My energy levels skyrocketed, I took up my yoga practice, and I felt amazing.
It was a hard conversation to have with my cofounder, but once everything was sorted out, I didn’t look back.
“Entrepreneurship is not for everyone. “
After my decision, that’s what a few people told me. I’ve thought about that quite a bit.
If I dated someone and broke up, would you tell me Love isn’t for everyone?
I didn’t quit because I hate startups. I quit because this one was not the one for me. It was the best decision for myself, but also for my cofounder and the future of the business.
Closing thoughts
I was extremely lucky to have had such a condensed experience while being a student.
All-in-all, the risk was minimal, and I only “lost” an academic semester, which is nothing compared to the richness of learnings I accumulated.
So, no regrets about starting. And definitely, no regrets about quitting.
