When I first started my business in 2013, I didn't set out with a grand vision of what I wanted to build. In fact, I knew almost nothing about business. All I knew was that I had lost two jobs in a row and didn't know what to do next.
But I loved YouTube and the impact I saw it could have on people's lives, so I figured I'd just try teaching growth strategy to more people... with very little idea of how to actually get paid for it.
In the beginning, I was purely in survival mode. I went from one month to the next trying to figure out how to get enough revenue to pay rent and cover our family's expenses. I had no fallback plan. No safety net. No plan B. I didn't even think far enough ahead to know that I probably should've had one. It was just go, go, go.
Over time, the business grew. It matured. Its impact increased. It became more stable and predictable. I developed a vision for it. But that didn't happen on its own.
What was really happening was that I was growing. I was maturing. My capacity to have an impact increased. I became more stable. I had developed a vision for myself and for our family.
Business ownership has been the most honest mirror I've ever faced. Most successes reflected my strengths, while most setbacks revealed growth opportunities in me I might have otherwise ignored.
I learned that building a business isn't just about building a business – it's also about becoming the person you need to become in order to grow a successful business and a healthy family at the same time.
For me, doing both well required a lot of skill I didn't have, and I usually got it wrong for most of those beginning years of business and marriage. I overworked, neglected my wife, did a lot of emotional eating, went to bed way too late, escaped into video games, I parked my kids in front of a TV for too many hours a day, and wrapped my self-worth in the success of my work, just to name a few.
But there's nothing like pain to force you into taking action you otherwise wouldn't take. The higher the pain, the more growth and change can come as a result.
Now that I'm 12 years past owning, growing, and selling that business, I still don't enjoy pain – nobody does – but I don't hate it like I used to. I don't avoid it at all costs anymore. In fact, I think that's part of why I enjoy wrestling and Brazilian Jui Jitsu now. It always hurts. It's always comfortable. And it always makes me better, stronger, and wiser.
This is on the wall in my office.
Joy costs pain.
Twelve years later, I now realize the greatest gift of business ownership isn't financial freedom or professional accomplishment—though those have their place. The true blessing is the pressure cooker it provides for personal growth. Because of it, I am now more skilled and equipped to make a bigger contribution to my family and to the world.
The business may have bore my name, but in truth, we built each other.
