I remember the day we sold RemoteTeam to Gusto. Champagne corks were flying, people were slapping me on the back, and my phone was blowing up with congratulatory texts. On the outside, it was the picture of success. The culmination of years of grinding, of sleeping under my desk, of pouring every ounce of my being into a dream. But on the inside? I felt a terrifying emptiness. The mountain I had been climbing for years had disappeared, and I was just... floating.
That feeling was my wake-up call. It was the moment I realized that the relentless pursuit of success, the very thing that defines us as founders, can also be the thing that breaks us. We celebrate the exits, the funding rounds, the unicorn valuations. We don't talk enough about the cost.
The Silicon Valley Mirage
There's a dangerous myth in the startup world. It's the idea that to succeed, you have to sacrifice everything. Your health, your relationships, your sanity. It's a culture that glorifies 100-hour workweeks and wears burnout as a badge of honor. I bought into it for years. With my first company, MovieLaLa, I was obsessed. I lived and breathed the business. We were trying to build the 'IMDb of the future,' and I was convinced that every minute I wasn't working was a minute a competitor was getting ahead.
This mindset is a trap. It leads you to believe that your self-worth is tied directly to your company's valuation. When things are going well, you're on top of the world. But the moment you hit a rough patch—a key employee leaves, a funding round falls through, a product launch flops—your world collapses. Because if the company is failing, you are failing. I've seen this pattern in dozens of the 200+ companies I've invested in. Talented, brilliant founders who tie their identity so tightly to their startup that they have nothing left when the inevitable storms hit.
One founder I backed, let's call him Alex, built an incredible AI company. They were on a rocket ship, growing 20% month-over-month. But Alex was a wreck. He was living on caffeine and adrenaline, terrified of dropping the ball. He called me one night, completely panicked because a minor server outage had taken their platform down for 15 minutes. He saw it as a personal failure, a sign that he wasn't cut out for this. We spent an hour on the phone, not talking about server architecture, but about permission. Permission to be human. Permission to not be perfect.
Redefining the Grind
After my experience with MovieLaLa, I knew I had to do things differently with RemoteTeam. I was still driven, still ambitious. But I refused to sacrifice my well-being on the altar of success. This wasn't about 'work-life balance' in the sense of a perfect 50/50 split. That's another myth. It's about integration. It's about designing a life where your work gives you energy instead of just draining it.
So, what did that look like in practice?
First, I became ruthless with my time. I started blocking out non-negotiable time for myself in my calendar. Two hours every morning were for me: exercise, reading, meditation. No meetings, no emails. This wasn't a luxury; it was a necessity. It was the time I needed to sharpen the saw. If I was going to be an effective leader, I needed to be a healthy human first.
Second, I built a team I could trust. This sounds obvious, but it's something many founders get wrong. They delegate tasks, but they don't delegate ownership. I made it my mission to hire people who were smarter than me in their respective domains and then I got out of their way. This freed me from the trap of being the bottleneck for every decision.
Third, I found an identity outside of being 'Sahin, the founder.' I leaned into my role as an angel investor. I started writing. I reconnected with friends. I made a conscious effort to build a life that was rich and fulfilling, independent of my company's success. This is what I write about in my book, Becoming Top 1%. It's not just about being in the top 1% of performers, but about building a top 1% life in all aspects.
The Unspoken Struggle: Depression in the Founder's Chair
We need to be honest about how brutal this journey can be. It's not just stress and burnout; for many founders, it's a battle with depression. The isolation is crushing. You're carrying the weight of your employees' livelihoods, your investors' expectations, and your own dreams. You can't show weakness to your team, you don't want to burden your family, and your non-founder friends often just don't get it.
I've been there. There were days when getting out of bed felt like a monumental effort. When the passion that once fueled me was replaced by a dull, persistent dread. The hardest part was admitting it to myself. I was supposed to be the visionary, the leader, the one with all the answers. Admitting I was struggling felt like admitting defeat.
It's not. It's the strongest thing you can do.
For me, the turning point was talking to another founder who had been through a similar experience. He didn't offer platitudes or easy answers. He just listened. And for the first time, I didn't feel so alone. That conversation gave me the courage to seek professional help, something I now advocate for relentlessly. Having a therapist or a coach is not a remedial action; it's a strategic advantage. It's like having a personal trainer for your mind.
Your Startup is Not Your Life
I want to end with this, and if you take nothing else away from this article, let it be this: Your company is a part of your life, it is not your whole life.
Building a successful company is an incredible achievement. My exits with RemoteTeam and MovieLaLa are milestones I'm immensely proud of. But they are not the sum of who I am. I am a father, a husband, an investor, a writer, a mentor. The success of my investments in companies like Anthropic, OpenAI, and Scale AI is thrilling, but it doesn't define my happiness.
Your journey as a founder will have soaring highs and devastating lows. The only way to survive it—and to truly succeed—is to build a strong foundation for your own mental and emotional health. Prioritize it like you would a product launch or a funding round. Because at the end of the day, the greatest venture you will ever build is yourself.
Frequently Asked Questions
How has this view evolved over time?
My thinking on most topics has changed significantly over the years. Early in my career, I held many conventional views that experience proved wrong. I try to update my beliefs when the evidence changes.
Do all experts agree with this view?
No, and that's fine. The best ideas in business are often contrarian. I share my perspective based on my experience and data, but I encourage you to seek out opposing viewpoints and form your own conclusions.
How can I apply this thinking to my own situation?
Start by identifying the core principle behind the opinion, not the specific example. Then ask yourself: does this principle apply to my context? If yes, test it in a small, low-risk way before going all in.