Stop giving your pain a voice
The words you speak matter, whether you say them out loud or not.
Hi, it’s Melissa, and welcome (back) to “your founder next door”, a weekly publication with stories and tidbits of my human journey bootstrapping eWebinar to $5m ARR. No BS, just straight-up truth bombs on what it’s like to build a company without an abundance of resources or friends in high places.
Last week, I stumbled on a podcast-turned-article by Charlie Garcia on his interview with Hillel Presser, a top asset protection lawyer, author, and entrepreneur.
(BTW, If you don’t know Charlie, he’s advised six presidents from both parties, writes a MarketWatch column, and founded R360, a private club for centimillionaires. He’s also one of my favorite writers on Substack. His range of experience and the way he tells a story is unlike anyone I’ve come across here.)
That piece was one of the best founder stories I’ve ever read. There were so many gems in it, but one particular story stuck with me, and it’s the reason I’m writing this today.
Jesse Itzler (serial entrepreneur, author, endurance athlete) once hired a Navy SEAL, Chadd Wright, to help him push past his physical and mental limits.
Jesse’s max running distance was 38 miles. He wanted to go further.
At their training, Chadd told Jesse that the first rule was: We are never going to give our pain a voice.
If he asked Jesse how he was doing during the run, the answer was going to be outstanding. Not tired. Not exhausted. Not “I can’t do this anymore.” Because the moment he said those things out loud, his body would listen.
The moment a feeling becomes a word, the word becomes an instruction to the body.
I hate to admit it, but this resonated with me because I could immediately see all the ways I’ve been doing the exact opposite for who knows how long. Maybe my whole life?
My husband has told me that I complain a lot and it seems like “I hate everything.” I certainly don’t hate everything! I’ve joked that I’m like Seinfeld where lots of things annoy me but I’m having a great time. He’s learned to not take what I say too seriously.
It wasn’t just at home. We’ve all heard the saying “misery loves company.” Sometimes, complaining was how I bonded with certain friends. Shared grievances felt like connection. Maybe we were just digging a deeper hole together and giving ourselves permission to keep feeling that way.
The truth is, the words were still going out into the world. Into my body and into the people around me.
I always thought that if I expressed my irritations out loud rather than held them in, I was giving myself an outlet to let them go. Now that I think about it, maybe the opposite is true. Little annoyances piled up. Why is the internet so slow? Why isn’t this dumb app working? I have that stupid call again. This training is so boring. I don’t want to do this demo.
Every single one of those “inconsequential” thoughts was a signal to my brain and body that I was having a bad day, when really, I wasn’t. I was just narrating one into existence.
For years, whenever a professional contact asked me how I was doing, on a sales call, a podcast interview, a catchup, my knee-jerk response was, “You know, surviving…startup life.”
I said that even on good days. Even when things were going well and I was feeling great.
I’ve always been allergic to the performative “we’re killing it”, so I overcompensated by saying the opposite. I thought it made me relatable. Honest and humble.
What I was actually doing was putting a message out into the world, over and over, that I was running a mediocre company and I was just barely getting by. I can see now that became my identity in those conversations. And that’s what I started to believe.
That’s an awful place to be and I definitely don’t want to be there.
After reading Charlie’s article, I decided to try something…
For the last week, I’ve been actively catching myself mid-thought when I go negative. I’ve stopped expressing small frustrations out loud, no matter how minor. Anytime someone asks how I’m doing, I say outstanding!
Yesterday, the mixologist at the bar we went to asked how our drinks were when we got up to leave. I said they were outstanding! His response was, “Wow, you guys are bubbly!”
No stranger has ever described me as bubbly. Not once in 42 years.
Meanwhile, I’ve noticed something else. When I asked my husband how he was doing, he said, “I’m okay.” I felt the contrast. His “okay” dampened my “outstanding.” His energy pulled me down a notch.
The other half of this lesson is we don’t just speak words into our own bodies. We speak them into the people around us. Energy is real and it’s contagious. When we give our pain a voice, we’re not just instructing our own body, we’re infecting everyone in the room.
In the last week, I can say without a doubt that I’ve been having better days. I feel less anxious. More productive. More grateful for what I have.
💡Here’s the thing: nothing else has changed.
Our growth rate hasn’t gone up. More customers haven’t signed up. We’re not making more money. We just moved from a cute, cozy sublet that felt lived-in to an Airbnb that very obviously is one, poorly kept and everything looks like it came from a flea market.
None of that matters. I’m in a great mood.
The only thing that changed is the words I’m choosing.
I’ve been writing a lot lately about identity and framing, how reframing your business can change everything, and how the strategy that got us to profitability also kept us small because we locked ourselves into a tiny box. So much of who we are, as people and as companies, comes down to how we see and describe ourselves. The words we say to ourselves, in every small moment, with every person, are a huge part of that. I used to think these were little things that didn’t matter. They do. Everything compounds.
This isn’t about being performative or fake. It’s not about pretending everything is perfect. It’s about not handing your pain a microphone every time it knocks. It’s about putting your mind and body on a course that gives you the power to do what you set out to do every day.
The words we say matter, whether we mean them or not. They’re not just how we see the world. They’re how we create ours.
Pay attention to how you speak to yourself. Make it a point to think and say positive things, even for the small stuff. Then watch your inner and outer world change.
So... how are you doing today? 🙌
PS. Go give Charlie’s article with Hillel a read and his podcast a listen. There’s a lot more gold in there.
Till next time,
— Melissa, your founder next door ✌️
One more thing before you go… I recently recorded an episode of the Millennial Masters podcast with Daniel Ionescu, called “A good business can still trap you.” We got into positioning, how founders slowly end up running companies that don’t fit them anymore, the inner work I did to get unstuck, and why I now believe founders should pay themselves first, not last. If you’ve been enjoying my writing, this podcast is an extension of my recent thoughts.
What did you think of this article? Let me know!
👋 If you enjoyed this read, would you please consider restacking it and sharing it with your audience?
This spreads the word and keeps me writing content that will inspire founders to keep doing what they’re doing, knowing they’re not alone.
Thank you 💜 The only way this grows is by word of mouth, so I’d really appreciate all the help you’re willing to give.
If there’s anything specific you want me to write about, hit reply and let me know. I read every message.
It all starts with how we treat and look after ourselves. Many times we can be too harsh.
And thank you for the mention Melissa, I really enjoyed our episode of Millennial Masters.