~by Haley Lynn Gray~
Written at the end of a very difficult year.
Some years teach you more than others, and the ones that teach most are rarely the ones you’d choose.
This was a year of serious family illness, a health scare of my own, and the decision that followed from it: I sold two of my businesses. It had become clear that continuing under that amount of stress was not going to end well, and that no amount of determination was going to make it sustainable.
That decision was the right one, and I want to be honest that I made it late. I’d known for a while.
Here’s what the year taught me.
1. I am who I am, and I won’t make everyone happy
It’s fine if you like me. It’s fine if you don’t.
Not everyone has to get on, and trying to be universally liked is both impossible and a poor use of energy. What isn’t optional is courtesy, respect and basic kindness — those you owe people regardless of how you feel about them.
That distinction took me an embarrassingly long time to settle on, and it’s freed up a considerable amount of attention since.
2. You find out who your support system actually is
When you reach a point where you genuinely cannot give any more, you discover quite quickly who was in the relationship for the exchange and who was in it for you.
Some of that is painful. Some people I’d counted on weren’t there. And some people I hadn’t counted on at all turned out to be remarkable, which was the better surprise.
The practical lesson isn’t about individuals. It’s that you don’t know the strength of your support system until you need it, and by then it’s too late to build. Which is an argument for maintaining relationships while things are fine — particularly for business owners, who are structurally more isolated than they realise.
3. People are not always as they present
Some people who appear generous are transactional underneath. Some who make a poor first impression turn out to be entirely dependable.
I’d add now that the tell isn’t how someone behaves when things are easy. It’s how they behave when you have nothing to offer them. That’s the only reliable test, and you don’t get to run it on purpose.
4. Taking care of myself is not optional
This is the one I’d underline.
It isn’t a nice-to-have or a reward for getting through the busy period. If I don’t look after myself, there is no business and I can’t look after my family either. Everything downstream depends on it.
I learned that the expensive way, via a health scare that forced a decision I should have made months earlier. The instrument you make decisions with requires maintenance, and the bill for ignoring that arrives whether or not it’s convenient.
5. I’m allowed to accept things from people
Learning to receive is genuinely hard if you’re accustomed to being the one who gives — giving and giving, past the point where it costs you.
Gifts aren’t always material. Time, help, attention, someone simply turning up. Accepting those gracefully is a skill, and refusing them isn’t modesty — it’s a way of staying in the role you’re comfortable in, and it denies the other person the pleasure of helping.
What I resolved to do differently
All of it came down to the same few things.
Boundaries — in the business and outside it. Decided in advance rather than negotiated under pressure.
Putting myself on the list. Not first necessarily, but on it, rather than as whatever is left over.
And actively maintaining friendships rather than assuming they’ll be there. They are, mostly. But only the ones you’ve tended.
Looking back at this now
I’m adding this some years on, because the lessons held better than I expected.
Selling those businesses was the right call and I’d make it faster next time. The self-care lesson is the one I’ve had to relearn periodically, which suggests it isn’t fully learned.
And the thing about support systems turned out to be the foundation of everything I’ve built since. A great deal of what I now write about — why owners need other owners, why the isolation is structural — started in the year I found out how much I needed people and how little I’d prepared for it.
Hard years are unpleasant and they’re clarifying. That doesn’t make them worth having. It does mean it’s worth writing down what they taught you, while you still remember it clearly.
About the author
Haley Lynn Gray is the founder of Leadership Girl, of In2itive Biz Solutions, and of the Women’s Entrepreneur Network — a community of more than 77,000 women in business.
She writes here about what happens when running a business starts demanding that you lead one. More about Haley →
