mrpink essays

Rebirth

When the world expects us to keep moving in a straight line, to be reborn is to have the courage to stop, look ourselves in the eye, and choose a different path.

Entrepreneurs have a peculiar profession: we live in change.

If things go well, sooner or later you’ll sell your company and dedicate yourself to something else. If things go badly, you’ll have to start again from zero. In either case, what follows is uncertain. It’s not unusual for us to go through drastic transitions: we switch industries, business models, roles. We move from operating to selling, from selling to leading, from leading to starting over again.

That takes us far away from what most people experience, who usually move in more predictable lines: within a single function, maybe at another company, but always under familiar coordinates.

The grief of letting go

What these transitions have in common is that—even when necessary, even when desired—they are never easy.

We tend to identify with our role, with the startup we lead, with the narrative we tell ourselves and display to others. When that disappears, the void appears. And with it, grief.
I don’t mean this in a dramatic sense, but literally: there is a loss. Of identity. Of prestige. Of position before our peers, our networks, our families. What we did becomes a part of who we were. And when that ends, we are left disoriented, without a clear box to fit into.

My own story

I myself have gone through several of these moments.

Leaving Argentina to pursue an MBA in the United States felt dramatic, dangerous—almost like betraying my achievements up to that point. Later, I joined PulpoMedia as a cofounder, a startup with which I identified deeply. So much so that, to this day, when I think about projects in the abstract, I mentally label them as “Pulpo.”

Stepping away from that project was strange. I felt as though a part of me remained there—in that company, in that role.

The next big transition was joining the leadership team of ConsumerAffairs, a much larger startup, where I launched operations in Argentina and led Data Science, Growth, and Finance. And later, leaving that too, to launch MrPink. Each stage brought enormous learnings… and deep losses.

I’m not the only one

I know dozens of entrepreneurs who have gone through similar processes.

Some did very well, then joined other projects in smaller roles—and struggled with it. Others never got their startups off the ground and returned to the corporate world. Some, even after succeeding, chose to go back to corporate life—and are happy there.

But in every case, the rebirth hurt.

Because it requires facing not only an internal process, but also the expectations of the world. Changing the labels with which we define ourselves—and with which others recognize us.

We live in a society where a person’s worth is often measured by productivity and status. In that context, letting go of a role, a title, a company, raises suspicion: “Did it really go well for them?”“Were they fired or did they step down voluntarily?”“Did they collapse under pressure?” The world invents narratives when it doesn’t understand other people’s choices.

Choosing the future, not the past

Having the courage to start again is not frivolity. It’s a vital necessity. After all, as far as we know, we only have one life. And there’s no reason to live it in a straight line.

Why couldn’t we be, at different times, a Finance Director, a body therapist, and a startup founder? Why couldn’t we condense into a single biography the richness of multiple lives?

We live in fear of sunk cost: we invest years building a version of ourselves and panic at the idea of letting it go. But that’s a trap. We worry too much about being consistent with the past, when the real question should be: What decision maximizes my happiness in the future?

The rational thing would be to look ahead: if I have 10, 20, or 40 years left… am I going to sacrifice them just to avoid contradicting what I did in the last 10? Or will I have the courage to pivot my life toward something more genuine, more fulfilling—even if it means dismantling the previous narrative?

The urgency of being happy

For me, everything changed when my children were born—especially my first, 13 years ago. Shortly after, I began saying something that stays with me to this day: as parents, it’s urgent to find happiness.

Of course, this is easier for those of us who have the privilege of choosing what to do with our time. But if we can choose… why spend our days doing something we don’t enjoy, just because “it makes economic sense”? What example do we give our children if we show them that life is sacrifice today and hope for tomorrow?

What if instead we showed them that it’s possible to live fully in the present?

Rebirth

That, to me, is the art of Rebirth:

To stop.
To ask ourselves if we’re on the right path.
And if not, to have the courage to change.

Even when no one understands.

Even when it hurts.

Even when much is at stake.