When I opened my first office, I thought I made it.
I had a team. I had a business address. I had a car — okay, it was on credit, but still.
And for the first time in my life, I flew abroad.
It felt like success. It looked like success. And I believed it was success.
But it wasn’t.
Because what I had… wasn’t a business.
It was a job. A job I created for myself. With too much pressure, too many responsibilities, and no real control.
In The E-Myth Revisited, Michael Gerber describes three personalities inside every founder:
When I read it, I saw myself in Sarah — the bakery owner from the book’s intro.
She wanted freedom, meaning, independence.
But every time things got hard, she fell back into doing what she knew.
Baking.
For me, it wasn’t baking.
It was design. It was code. It was the comfort of the familiar — disguised as responsibility.
And that’s what I did.
Every time pressure showed up, I stopped being a founder.
I went back to being a technician. Back to “doing the work” — the safe kind, the kind I knew how to do.
Because building a real business, that felt too big. Too uncertain. Too painful to get wrong.
I was lucky.
A client became a mentor, then a partner.
He brought me projects, advice, credibility.
It felt like the universe had given me a shortcut.
But shortcuts come at a price.
When the 2007 crisis hit, the stream dried up.
One call from my partner changed everything: “No clients. No money. You need to cut the team.”
And suddenly, my dream collapsed.
I wasn’t in control. I wasn’t prepared. And I realized, painfully, that I hadn’t built a business.
I’d built a stage. It looked impressive. But behind the curtain, there was nothing holding it up.
That month changed me.
I had to face my fears — of selling, of rejection, of doing “the scary stuff.”
I started writing cold emails. Started learning how to talk about money.
How to track expenses. How to plan.
The entrepreneur in me, the one I thought was gone, came back.
Because I had no choice.
And slowly, things started moving again.
Not perfectly. Not glamorously. But for real.
This time, it was my business.
My clients. My revenue. My responsibility.
And that responsibility didn’t feel heavy anymore.
It felt like freedom.
Let’s be honest.
If you’re constantly drowning in your task list, doing the work, fixing the bugs, answering the emails, you don’t have a business.
You have another job.
Only this one doesn’t come with health benefits.
Or bonuses.
Or time off.
It only comes with pressure.
Risk.
And the nagging fear that if you stop, even for a day, everything collapses.
The only way out of that trap?
You stop identifying as the Specialist.
And start acting like the Entrepreneur again.
Even if it scares you.
Even if you don’t feel ready.
Even if the voice in your head says: “Let me just finish this one thing first…”
Let that voice go.
And build something real.
Disclaimer.
Every business has its nuances, and every founder has their unique context and resources. Whether or not my advice applies depends on your situation, experience, and needs. But one thing is universal—use your brain.
Think about how to apply the advice in your context before acting.
Your way.