Two years ago, I said yes to building a startup. The mission was right. It still is.
But I'm stopping, and I want to tell you why…….
Two years ago, I said yes to building a startup. The mission was right. It still is. But I'm stopping, and I want to tell you why.
Two years ago, I said yes to building a startup. Heilen was going to be THE platform for high-quality, trustworthy retreats. A place where seekers could find experiences that actually fit them, and where retreat organizers, venues and facilitators could finally stop doing everything alone. The mission came straight from my own world: a network of thousands of retreat lovers and professionals I had built over years, people who kept coming to me with the same questions. Where do I find a good chef? Which venue can I trust? Is this retreat right for me? The mission was right. It still is. But I'm stopping. And I want to tell you why, honestly, because honest is the only way I know how to do this.
What actually happened.
For two years, I gave everything. My time, my money, my energy, my sleep. I was CEO, CMO, CFO and everything in between. I built financial projections, pitched at startup events, onboarded 40+ partners, launched an MVP, got paying users. On stage, people were amazed by the vision. In my inbox, people told me how much the world needs this.
And still, it didn't work.
Not because the mission was wrong. Because the structure was. The community model assumed people wanted to build something together, but most people came to consume, not to contribute. The team worked on equity only, and I learned that when it really comes down to it, vision without skin in the game evaporates. The technology ate the time that should have gone to community, sales and relationships, which is where the actual value lived. And I stretched myself so thin across every department that at some point I stopped sleeping, felt anxiety in my body every day, and honestly did not know how I would pay for food the next week at some point.
That last sentence took me a long time to write. But if I'm going to tell this story, I'm going to tell it whole.
The moment everything changed
At some point in Bali, exhausted, I finally admitted what I had known for months: more time was not going to fix this. The problems were structural, not effort problems. You cannot out-hustle a broken foundation. Believe me, I tried.
So I'm letting Heilen go, in this shape and form.
Why this is a gift
Here's what nobody tells you about a failed startup: it is the most expensive, most painful, most valuable education you will ever get.
In two years I learned more than in ten years of employment. I learned how to raise (and how not to raise). I learned that people who applaud your vision are not the same people who will work for it, and definitely not the same people who will pay for it. I learned that being needed by everyone is not the same as building something people need. I learned to read a cap table, build projections, lead a team, and pitch a room. I learned that my value was never the platform. It was always the network, the trust, the curation. The relationships. Me.
And I learned the hardest lesson of all: I am not willing to sacrifice my health, my sleep and my life for a structure that doesn't serve the mission. The mission deserves better. So do I.
What stays
I'm quitting the company. I'm not quitting my people.
The network stays. The community stays. The mission, bringing more healing into the world through real quality and real connection, stays. What it becomes next, I honestly don't know yet. And for the first time in two years, I'm giving myself permission to not know. To create space instead of filling it immediately with the next plan.
If you're a founder reading this while lying awake at 3am wondering if you're failing: you're not failing. You're learning at a speed most people never experience. The gift is brutal, but it's real.
More soon. First, some space.