The Psychology of the Entrepreneur
An entrepreneur finally goes on vacation. The seaside. A beautiful hotel. The phone lies nearby, face down—just as experts on proper relaxation advise. Yet, as time passes, the hand instinctively reaches for the phone to check something. What if a client has messaged? What if something has happened? What if the staff made the wrong decision? What if sales plummeted at the very moment the business owner finally allowed himself to actually *live* and gaze at the sea?
Technically, the person is relaxing. In reality, they have simply moved their workspace closer to the pool. This is often what the entrepreneurial mindset looks like from the inside. From the outside, one sees freedom, money, autonomy, and the ability to decide when to work. From the inside, however, there is responsibility that cannot be left at the office, anxiety about the future, and a strange feeling that if you loosen your grip, everything will start to fall apart.
And the hardest part here is that many of the qualities that helped build the business eventually begin to destroy the entrepreneur themselves, rather than the business.
Who is an entrepreneur from a psychological perspective?
I believe that running your own business requires the ability to tolerate uncertainty. There is no boss here to tell you what to do. There is no guaranteed paycheck at the end of the month. There is no ready-made plan created by someone else. There is only you and your expectations for your business.
Every business owner has to make decisions before feeling certain about them, and assume responsibility before knowing how things will turn out. And when mistakes happen, they pay for them out of their own pocket.
That is why entrepreneurs are often proactive, independent individuals capable of quickly pulling themselves together during a crisis. They know how to spot opportunities, take risks, and achieve results—without waiting for someone else to come along and save the day. These are excellent qualities.
But problems arise when the ability to take responsibility turns into an inability to let go of it; when independence becomes an inability to ask for help; when persistence turns into a habit of ignoring fatigue; and when the drive for results gradually becomes the only way to feel a sense of self-worth.
The Price of Entrepreneurship
I won’t sugarcoat things or smooth over the rough edges here. Every entrepreneur knows how to take risks, rise to challenges, and make tough decisions. But what sometimes lies beneath that? Behind the stature and the scale? Is there a real person behind the business façade? An individual? Someone with the right not only to achieve but simply to *be*?
As an entrepreneur, you might face a particular risk: building a business that works, only to discover that the person inside it is gone—that for twenty years you were merely a function, and no one, including yourself, knows what you want outside of work.
A second risk is that what you have earned never actually becomes yours. Business owners often fail to spend money on themselves—not because they lack the means, but because any personal expenditure feels like taking funds away from the business. In this way, the business becomes far larger and more important than the person who created it. There may well be some truth to this. But to what extent?
The third factor is the people around you. An entrepreneur’s family lives for years with someone who is physically present but mentally absent. Your children will remember you staring at your phone—and that is something that cannot be undone later.
What happens with this in therapy?
It’s not what people usually expect. People don’t come to me to become more efficient. They go to a coach for efficiency—and that is honest work. They come to me for something else.
At first, something happens: for the first time in years, a person speaks the truth about their business out loud. Not to a partner, a spouse, or the team—but out loud, fully, including the parts that are frightening and shameful. The first time, it comes out awkwardly. It was the same for me once—I could say, “There are certain difficulties,” but I couldn’t say, “I’m terrified I won’t be able to pull this off.”
Then, once your work is done, the question “Who are you?” arises. And in the course of psychotherapy, an answer to that question gradually emerges.
And then—strangely enough—things often go better. Not because we were working on business matters in my office. But because decisions are no longer made out of panic at six in the morning, out of a sense of duty, or out of endless responsibility. Decisions begin to be made from one’s core—from the “Self.” From personal desires, and often with absolutely nothing to do with ambition.
What will change after psychotherapy?
Your speed of reaction to a situation or event will change: a pause emerges between “something has happened” and “I am taking action.” Previously, that space was empty—you reacted instantly because the uncertainty felt terrifying. Now, that space holds a question: am *I* making this decision, or is anxiety deciding for me? Incidentally, this is usually why things start going better. It isn’t a matter of motivation, but rather the removal of haste from your decisions. You gain the ability to tolerate uncertainty without catastrophizing.
You will still feel upset when the numbers drop—just as before—and that is normal. But you will be upset about the numbers, not about the idea that you are a worthless person—that you failed. These are different experiences, and the latter is incomparably more draining. You will be able to separate your identity from the results of your work. You and the results are not the same thing.
Instead of saying “there are certain difficulties,” you will be able to say “I’m afraid I won’t be able to handle this”—and feel at ease while doing so. First in the therapy room, then to your partner, and later to your loved ones. It may sound like a small thing, but it changes more than anything else: it is precisely here that the loneliness you have lived with for the past few years comes to an end.
The client you’ve put up with for three years. The terms you agreed to simply because you felt awkward negotiating. The request you automatically answered with “of course.” It’s not that you’ll start saying no to everyone; it’s just that “yes” will finally have an alternative. I remember very well creating a blacklist of clients I absolutely refused to work with—that was the moment I gained a sense of inner freedom. What’s more, I started attracting clients who were a sheer pleasure to work with.
Your day off ceases to be an ordeal. Not because you have mastered a relaxation technique, but because stopping no longer means confronting a question with no answer. By then, the answer will already be there. You will find it interesting to finally meet yourself.Люди рядом получают вас обратно
The people around you will begin to notice the changes in you. Your children will be the first to do so. Why? Because you will start noticing what truly matters. Your life will expand—making room for people, friends, hobbies, living, and family.
The anxiety will not vanish. The responsibility will remain yours, and you will not cease to be the final authority—this is not a neurosis; it is the nature of the role.
And the first few months are often harder, not easier. Things you’ve been holding onto for years start to surface, and at first, that’s unpleasant. It is more honest to warn about this right away than to promise relief by the third session.
Why do you need me?
I am a Gestalt psychotherapist and also someone who has been running their own business since 1998. I work online in Russian and Ukrainian.
That’s why business owners and self-employed professionals often come to me—dealing with burnout, guilt toward their teams, and that feeling of “I just can’t stop.” I don’t need to have it explained to me what it feels like to part ways with someone who has been by your side for ten years. If this sounds familiar, we can talk about it.
P.S. I want to write—and will write—stories for my blog about what I observe during sessions with entrepreneurs. Not growth case studies, but scenes from real life—scenes from my own entrepreneurial journey and reflections following sessions with my entrepreneurial clients.