Opportunity Cost: How to Know Whether to Stay, Leave, or Shut It Down
CONTEXT: At the end of 2022, I abruptly stepped down from the CPG company I co-founded.
No one tells you how often you’ll ask yourself if it’s worth it.
The business.
The sacrifice.
The risk.
The time.
The debt.
The reputation.
The dream.
I didn’t want to leave the company I co-founded. In fact, the thought of leaving made me nauseous. It made me question everything — my work, my worth, my instincts. But here’s the truth no one preps you for: sometimes staying is the bigger risk. And sometimes walking away is the best investment in your future self.
That’s what this piece is about.
Not failure.
Not drama.
But opportunity cost — the real, often invisible price we pay for staying too long at the table, even when we know we’re starving.
The Whisper Before the Scream
For a long time, I ignored the whispers. The tiny internal nudges that something wasn’t right. That my compensation didn’t match my contribution. That my boundaries weren’t being respected. That decisions were getting made without me, about things I built with my own two hands.
I told myself it was a phase. That all startups go through rough patches. That this is just what it takes. I rationalized every red flag — because I believed in the mission, in the product, in the team. Because I didn’t want to be “the emotional one.” Because I didn’t want to be seen as difficult. Because I didn’t want to look ungrateful. Because I thought quitting meant losing.
But the whispers got louder. And eventually, they were screaming.
Opportunity cost doesn’t always look like an obvious tradeoff. Sometimes it’s subtle. It shows up in the form of another month with no paycheck. Another meeting where your voice is ignored. Another investor conversation where your title is mentioned but your value isn’t. It’s all the things you say yes to — and all the things you don’t even realize you’re saying no to in the process:
No to rest.
No to creative energy.
No to other opportunities.
No to a version of yourself you might actually like.
So… How Do You Know?
Here’s the thing: nobody can make this decision for you. Not your therapist. Not your investors. Not even your closest friends. But if you’re a founder wondering whether to stay, leave, or shut it down entirely — here are the questions I wish I had asked myself sooner:
Is the version of the business that’s emerging one I still believe in?
It’s okay for a company to evolve — but if the new direction feels fundamentally misaligned with your values, it might not be your business anymore. And that doesn’t mean it’s a bad one. It just means it’s not yours to carry.Am I being compensated in a way that honors my contribution?
No, most founders don’t take full salaries early on. But if the business is thriving and you’re not — financially or emotionally — that’s not noble, it’s unsustainable. Burnout isn’t a badge of honor.Do I still have the power to make meaningful decisions?
Especially for minority shareholders or non-CEO co-founders, this one’s key. If your vote doesn’t matter — and your vision is constantly overridden — it may be time to ask what you’re really still doing there.Is staying rooted in fear or possibility?
I stayed far too long because I was afraid. Afraid I wouldn’t get another shot. Afraid of what people would think. Afraid of being labeled “difficult.” But decisions made from fear almost always lead to resentment.
The Case for Leaving Before You Break
Walking away doesn’t mean you didn’t love it. It doesn’t mean it wasn’t worth it. It doesn’t mean you failed.
It means you chose you.
Your peace.
Your future.
Your power.
I left without a backup plan, without savings, without a clear idea of what came next. But I knew staying would have cost me more than I was willing to pay. Not just financially — but spiritually. Physically. Creatively. I didn’t want to become someone I didn’t recognize just to keep something that no longer recognized me.
And here’s what I want you to know, if you’re in that limbo space right now:
You are not weak for questioning your place in something you built.
You are not a failure for considering walking away.
You are not selfish for wanting more — more respect, more equity, more rest, more joy.
You are allowed to change your mind. You are allowed to want different. You are allowed to outgrow things.
If You Stay
Of course, there are seasons where the answer is not yet. Where staying is the right choice — but maybe with new boundaries, new terms, or a new role. If that’s you, ask yourself: what would make staying feel like a conscious, empowering choice instead of a default one?
It might look like renegotiating your equity. Setting clearer expectations around ownership. Delegating the tasks that drain you. Saying no more often. Asking for help, for real this time.
If staying is the path — make sure it’s one you’re choosing with eyes wide open.
If You Go
Leaving doesn’t mean disappearing. It doesn’t erase what you built. The legacy of your work doesn’t evaporate just because your name is no longer on the Slack channels or in the brand deck.
If you walk, do it with clarity and care. Protect your peace and your paper. Document everything. Say what needs to be said — kindly and clearly. Then move forward. Let go of the version of the business that only lives in your head. It’s okay to grieve what could’ve been and celebrate what was.
Because if you built something once — you can do it again.
Wiser.
Stronger.
And with better legal terms this time :)
Final Thoughts
The hardest part of being a founder isn’t the pitch deck or the product development or the investor calls. It’s the quiet reckoning of deciding what’s worth your one precious life.
And the truth is, sometimes the bravest, boldest, most strategic thing you can do — is walk away.
You don’t owe anyone your burnout.
You don’t owe anyone your silence.
You don’t owe anyone a lifetime of compromise just because you signed a cap table once upon a time.
You owe you the chance to choose again.
And that, my friend, is not a loss.
It’s an investment.
One you’ll never regret.
