“Mark my words, in five years his wife’s going to leave him.”

I’d barely left Wall Street and was already getting shit talked behind my back.

“I’ve seen this story play out before,” he continued. “These guys think that they can flip a switch and become entrepreneurs.”

This was coming from an old mentor, who vehemently disapproved of my decision to quit finance.

“But what they don’t realize is that they’re spending way more money than they think. And that will end a marriage.”

Even though I hadn’t experienced this diatribe first-hand, it hurt like hell. It felt like a low blow, especially coming from someone who I admired (and I thought admired me back).

But worse than the hurt was the fear.

What if he was right?

It was an innocuous text.

A text that I received more than 50 times.

And each time, it felt like a gut punch.

Sometimes it contained a disarming preamble:

“Hey man, I heard about the big move. I’m so curious to know, what are you doing now?”

Other times it had traces of passive aggression:

“Didn’t see this one coming. What are you doing next?”

And then there was the one that made my knees wobble.