Would you take £15 million if it meant missing every bedtime story?
28th May 2026By Joel Lawton – Founder Transition Expert
Would you take £15 million in 10 years if it meant missing every bedtime story, every birthday, every sports day, every ordinary Tuesday evening with the people you love?
It’s an uncomfortable question. Not because it’s realistic, because it forces us to name the trade-off we’re already making.
Founders are providers
We provide for our clients. We provide for our teams. We provide for our families.
Who gets the best of us?
In 2020, my kids were 3 and 6. I was commuting to London, running a £3 million business.
I was contributing. Financially. Building security. Growing the business. But missing the emotional side completely.
I was waking at 3am, mind racing. Snapping at the kids. Barely speaking to my partner. Masking it with drinking.
The business got my energy, my focus, my presence. My family got what was left over.
I’d arrive home exhausted. My kids would want to play. I’d be checking emails, half-listening.
Without meaning to, I was showing my kids that being busy mattered more than being present.
I didn’t see it at the time. But looking back, the pattern was clear. I was missing what life was about.
A moment of realisation
This pattern, missing what matters, going numb to protect ourselves, isn’t unique to me.
I sat opposite a founder recently. End of our coaching session. We’d been through the business plan, the team structure, what needed to happen next.
Then came the pause. The silence. The thing they’d been holding back.
“I’m worried I won’t be able to feel the success by the time I get there.”
It landed hard. Not because it was dramatic. Because it was true.
They were building something remarkable. Growing fast. Hitting milestones. But they couldn’t feel any of it. Going numb. The wins weren’t registering anymore.
This is what can happen when we keep moving forward without pausing.
When fear and uncertainty drive us to keep achieving, hoping the next milestone will finally bring peace.
We disconnect from the present because it’s safer than facing what we’re sacrificing.
The business keeps growing. The metrics keep climbing.
But the human version of us is not there in any of it.
The reality that arrives
You’ve built something. It’s done.
It’s working.
So what is enough?
That question terrifies most founders. Because answering it means looking at what you’ve been missing.
This isn’t about blame. The societal structures we operate within, the identity we formed around being a founder, the building phase where everything depended on us, all of it led us here.
You were told: work hard, build something, provide for your family.
No one mentioned the cost. That the person you’re becoming might not be the person you want to be. That the moments you’re missing don’t come back. That you might reach the goal and feel nothing.
This doesn’t happen to everyone. But it happens to enough of us that it’s worth asking: is this happening to me?
Bronnie Ware worked in palliative care. She sat with people in their final weeks and recorded what they wished they’d done differently. The fourth most common regret: “I wish I hadn’t worked so hard.”
These people missed their children growing up. They missed their partner’s companionship. They spent decades telling themselves, “Once I hit this target, then I’ll slow down.”
The target kept moving. The people they loved learned to live without them.
By the time they realised what they’d traded, it was too late.
The question that matters
What’s the point of building something remarkable if you’re too numb to feel it?
When we’re in the room but not really there, physically present but mentally somewhere else, our family feels the gap.
When we’re securing our family’s financial future but our they barely sees us, we have to ask what we’re actually building for.
This isn’t about choosing between business success and family. It’s not either/or.
But if they’re learning to live without you, that’s worth stopping for.
The work
In 2020, I faced this question. My kids were young enough that I could still change course. So I did.
I restructured the business to fit my life. Worked three days a week. Changed my relationship with alcohol. Built practices that helped me be present.
It wasn’t easy. The inner critic was loud: “Other people would kill to be in your position.”
But I knew the truth. The business was successful. I wasn’t.
Three years later, I exited. And because I’d done the work, I didn’t fall apart when the identity dissolved.
The founder I mentioned? They’re doing the work now too. Building better systems for the business, yes. But also building their human road map, rebuilding their capacity to be present. To feel. To connect.
It’s not quick. It’s not comfortable. But it’s the work that actually matters.
Because you can build a £15 million business and still lose everything that made it worth building in the first place.
If something’s been sitting with you, this might be where it shifts.
The Clearing: half a day, one to one, in nature. A carefully held space to get honest about where you are, where you want to be, and what’s actually in the way.
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