Money Confession: I Was Glad Our Business Died

Not devastated. Relieved. Here's the uncomfortable reason why.

I felt relief when we lost everything. Not devastation. Relief.

That’s the bit nobody wants to hear. Everyone expects the crying, the shame, the “how did it all go so wrong.” I had all of that too, don’t worry.

But underneath it, when the liquidation papers were finally signed, and the business was actually, properly gone, the first thing I felt was my shoulders drop. Like I’d been holding my breath for about three years, and someone had finally said I was allowed to breathe out.

I believe: no one is coming to save you. And that’s the best news you’ll get all year, even though it sounds bleak as hell.

We knew our business was dying long before it actually died. For the last three years of it, my husband and I would have the same conversation, quietly, at night, both of us knowing exactly how it ended. But we kept going. Partly because we loved it, and partly because we couldn’t stomach the idea of disappointing his parents, who’d built the thing from nothing. And I married into someone else’s dream. I definitely didn’t want to disappoint my husband by cutting this dream.

Sounds romantic, but deep down it’s a recipe for disaster.

So we treated a dying business like a family member instead of what it actually was, an investment that had stopped paying us back a long time ago. You don’t leave an investment because you feel guilty. You leave because the numbers tell you to.

We made losses, our debt increased, and we were the last ones to get paid, if we got paid at all. We just weren’t ready to listen.

Then the universe stopped giving us the choice. We sold our house to keep the business breathing. Twelve months later, COVID hit. My husband got diagnosed with chronic fatigue. And we sold what was left of the business with a six-figure debt hanging off it and ten grand to our name. I can’t say we didn’t have a hand in it; we did. We made the calls that got us there. But I also can’t pretend a global pandemic was on our bingo card. Just to be clear, COVID didn’t end our business. It just showed up right when we’d run out of reasons to keep lying to ourselves about it.

This was a long time coming.

We had the signs: Dad had multiple heart attacks, my husband was diagnosed with chronic fatigue, I was split between a job, this business and my own consultancy, and the team was running on empty.

The six months after were brutal. Dad was angry we’d “given up.” Suppliers wanted what they were owed. Our whole team was suddenly out of a job. The liquidation process was one of the hardest things we’ve done.

And still, underneath all of it, relief.

Because here’s what I actually learned. The tragedy was never the ending. The tragedy was the three years before it, when we already knew and kept waiting for something else to decide for us. Waiting for the business to magically turn around. Waiting for a good month. Waiting to feel brave enough. Nobody was coming to hand us permission to stop. We had to take it ourselves.

That’s the whole thing, isn’t it?

Clarity comes first, always. Not the fix, not the plan, not even the courage. Just being honest with yourself about what’s actually broken, whether that’s a business, a marriage, a job you’ve outgrown, or a version of yourself you’re still dragging around out of habit.

So tell me. What’s the thing you already know, deep down, that you haven’t said out loud yet?