My company is my child.

This is not something I can change — and I do not want it to!
I built it from nothing, poured my heart into it, sacrificed time, comfort, and sleep for it… so it will never be “just a business” to me.

But something big, something fundamental, has changed in me.
I no longer collapse when someone says “no.”

Because one day, after yet another rejection that felt like a knife to the chest, I asked myself a very uncomfortable question: “am I hurt because they don’t want my product — or because I believe they don’t want me?”

That question hit me hard.
Too hard.

But I knew I had to go through it. Because it had been the silent killer of my joy and confidence.

As a start, I asked myself:
“Is this thought doing me any good? Is this helpful?”
“Well of course not,” shouted a voice in my head, “but…”
— No but, I said. Enough.
I told my Ego:
“If this is not doing me any good, then we are not doing it.
You are me — this voice is me.
And I know you are scared and trying to protect me, but right here, right now, it is not happening.
I need you to believe with me that this product, and I — we are both wanted.
Thinking the other way around does not help, OK?
I need you, and I need all this strength you have, that today you use to bring me down.
Make sure it serves me to bring me up.”

Being aware that I could be my worst enemy, I decided in that moment that I would be more of my best friend.
From then on, each time I would catch my Ego bringing me down, I would course-correct.
I would pay more attention, be aware of the phenomenon, and get back in control of my mind — rather than let all these spinning questions pollute my days and drain my energy.

Funnily, I realized in that moment that I had to stand up for myself, against myself!
But it did not feel like an internal fight — more like an alignment call.
Like the farmer with the chicken: one leaves the pack at times, and you need to be aware and bring it back.

This is how I perceived my Ego: eager to protect me from any risk or issue that could arise. It had no bad intentions. It wanted to prepare me for failure in case it could happen — so it would hurt less.

But life does not work that way: I will live this if and when I need to.
This is not something I can live in anticipation.

I had to be more present, acknowledge that people not buying is not failure yet.
It is data points to do better.
Feedback to consider.
And good news: I can only improve!
“Be my first fan,” I asked my Ego.

I took a breath.
A real one.
Long. Slow.
Enough to feel my spine again, my body again, my presence again.
I could still feel tension — in my shoulders, in my stomach.
And I could also feel strength behind it.
Yes, it is still scary, but I have the internal resources to do it.

I replayed conversations with prospects in my head — not through the lens of pain, but being lucid about their inputs.
I remembered someone saying, “Not the right time.”
Another saying, “I love it but I can’t commit right now.”
Someone else saying, “I want to think about it.”
One even said, “I’m already working with someone.”
Not one person said, “I don’t want you.”
Or “your product is not answering my problem.”

Those words of rejection, that none of what I had done was good enough - they only existed in my head.
That realization felt both painful and liberating.
Painful because I saw how much pollution I had created in my mind — distorting reality into rejection.
Liberating because there was finally space to breathe differently.
Liberating too because these were issues I could address.

I could prepare for these objections and find ways to overcome them.
What if they’re saying no to their own timing, priorities, fears, budgets — not to my worth?
That made my shoulders drop.
Suddenly, the world was not attacking me.
It was just… being the world.

But I needed more than logic.
Emotions do not disappear because you think one smart thing.

So I connected deeper.
“What exactly hurts when they say no?”
The answer was: feeling invisible, unimportant, unseen.
Nothing clear was coming to my mind. I did not know…

But then another thought arrived: “what do you put behind the answer? Why is it hurtful that they do not buy?”

Silence.

A very long silence.

I realized that entrepreneurship had only pressed on bruises that were already there.
That I had this urge to succeed, and I would put unreasonable pressure on myself to make it happen.
I was not kind.
I was loving my job more than I was loving myself.
The job ranked higher in my head.

So if I did not like my job… how could you even consider liking me?!
Enough, I told my Ego once more.
I was very grateful — it had brought me far with this logic.
I would not have achieved all that I did without it.

But now was the time to change my reference model.
I was the job and the product.
I was at the heart of it.
And so it was high time I would value and put myself at the center.

“With your help, I am strong enough,” I told my Ego.
I felt so happy thinking this way.
And my Ego — surprisingly — stepped aside.
It is certainly clumsy at times, but it is here for me.
It cares; I just need to show it the way.

From that place, I reset my Compass.
I asked myself:
“What direction feels true and aligned for me?”
The answer was clear: helping people.
Solving real problems.
Standing tall in what I offer.
Not begging.
Not shrinking.
Just showing up — honestly.

So I adopted a new rule: “a no does not stab me; it guides me.”
I test this rule every day.
When I hear: “Not now.”
I ask: “What would be the right time?”
When I hear: “It’s not for me.”
I ask: “What are you actually looking for?”
When I hear a blank “no” — the worst kind of rejection —

I breathe, I ground myself, and I repeat: “this is not about me. This is about fit.”

And I move on to the next possible customer.
The world is becoming much less hostile.
I no longer feel invisible or rejected.
I no longer take things personally.
I no longer collapse emotionally.

Rejection still stings — but it does not break me.
It does not define me.
It does not erase the worth of what I created, because I know my worth.

And I no longer require external validation.
My worth is under my control — not in your hands or in your wallet.

My product is still my child.
But I am no longer a wounded parent.

I am a builder.
An entrepreneur.
Because now, I do not need everyone to love my baby.
I only need the right people to choose it.

And I trust that I can make it happen.