One of my major regrets is that I didn’t start a business in 2002. To be more accurate, I did start a business. I had an idea, built a prototype, went to SCORE mentor meetings, met with a great lawyer and filed paperwork. My site was getting visitors, I was getting emails from those visitors, and initial feedback was outstanding. My family, instead of being supportive, expressed concerns. Worry. Doubt. I felt their doubts creep into my head and take root. I got scared. Maybe they were right. What was I doing? I unwound all the work I’d done and put my head back down to blend in with the crowd.
I never forgot what my lawyer said when I called him to dissolve the corporation:
“If you spent as much time working on your business as you spend worrying, you’d already have revenue.”
I was young. I was far less mature than I am now. And I don’t blame my family; I blame my own reaction to what they said. I didn’t want it badly enough. I didn’t know what I wanted.
For the next 12 years, I wished I’d started the company.
This week was tough because it echoed history. I shared some good news and got back anxiety. Worry. I know it wasn’t intentional; in fact, my family has been incredibly supportive of my efforts this time around. But nonetheless, I spent the end of the week replaying my worries, reminding myself why this time would be different. Fighting my own shadows. It’s not a feeling I’m used to anymore, and not one I enjoy.
I didn’t give in. I’m different than I was. I’ve defeated far worse than some unformed doubts, and I know that the regret of never trying is more powerful than fear.
But I could use a spa. And chocolate. Possibly some flower petals and essential oils.