In 2018, while I was still studying computer science, I founded Neurologiq with the vision of bringing AI into industrial practice. No side hustle, no after-work project, but the decision to put everything on one card. And before it really started, I told my friends: “I will hardly ever be there for the next few years.”
Not because I was arrogant. But because I had a feeling of what was coming to me.
I haven’t really celebrated anything since my 18th birthday. Instead of candles, there were deadlines. Instead of gifts, responsibility. Instead of a party: full commitment.
Some thought I was exaggerating. Others laughed at it. Today I know: I probably even understated it.
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When everything falls apart at the same time
The hardest moment didn’t come because of a failed deal or a crashed financing round. But in the middle of restructuring my company, when the business model no longer worked and I was under pressure to get everything back on track. At that time I had a venture capital fund behind me that wanted my personal liability. To this day I doubt whether he has really found his business model. But be that as it may, we were able to find an agreement.
During this founding episode, I suddenly received a call from my mother: My uncle was dead. 53 years old. Single. My mother found him lifeless in bed.
He was more than just a relative to me. He was the person who absorbed a lot of things in my childhood. Who was there where others weren’t. He took a lot of care of me and my brother without anyone expecting him to.
Shortly before that, my beloved grandmother died. Shortly afterwards, my long-term relationship broke up. And I had to achieve a turnaround in the company.
All in a few months. It almost tore me apart. And yet I carried on. Not because I had no choice. But because I was convinced, and still am, that if you leave before things get good, you’ll never know whether it would have been worth it.
That’s not in any pitch deck
What is rarely talked about in podcasts or glossy founder portraits: founding a business costs you almost everything at first and only gives you something back later.
2022, in the maelstrom of bad news, was my lowest point. I gained weight, was exhausted and lived an unhealthy lifestyle. 104 kilograms at the top, I actually weigh around 80. Too much pizza, too little sleep, too much “just get this done”. I functioned. But I wasn’t alive.
The new business model took effect at the end of 2022. The decisions of the last few months have paid off. Finally there was air to breathe again. Clarity. And one feeling: it was worth it.
Enduring does not mean failing
Of course, there were moments when I thought, “Is this all too much?” – But throw it down? Not a second. “Failure is not an option.” This is my guiding principle and that of my Chief of Staff. If one way doesn’t work, we look for a new one. Point. He was also the one who taught me what a healthy error culture means.
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“Even if something doesn’t work, that’s a valuable result. Then you know what you don’t need to do anymore and you can focus on what works,” he told me over and over again.
Another sentence that has stuck came from my advisory board: “Simon, you need a low-pass filter. Not every rash is a crisis. Not every escalation needs an immediate reaction.”
Today I analyze before I react. I make decisions in sparring with people I trust. And I learned: pressure is not automatically bad. Pressure can also create movement. Sometimes it’s that very pressure that makes you grow.
What I would say to other founders
I get a lot of messages.
“How much do I have to sacrifice?”
“How do I know if it’s worth it?”
“How much is too much?”
There is no universal answer. But I have three questions that I ask myself – over and over again:
- Am I doing this out of conviction or out of fear of giving up?
- Would I go this route even if no one was watching?
- Am I evolving or am I losing myself?
Starting a business is not a linear path. It’s development. And development does not work without risk, not without pain, not without self-reflection.
Today I work differently because I have changed. I listened to the wrong people too soon. I let myself drift instead of steering myself. Today I would take more time, decide more clearly, listen better, including to myself. But to be honest: That’s part of the process.
You don’t learn about entrepreneurship from a podcast or a book. Not even from this essay. You learn it by sitting down, building everything up, sometimes having to break it down, making mistakes, moving on. And by being willing to develop yourself further.
In the USA they say: “You’re not really a founder until you’ve failed once.” And even if that’s only half true, it’s encouraging.
I also want this culture for Germany. Failure is not the end of the world. It’s sometimes the beginning of something that really has substance. And I mean it honestly.
And I would do it again
Today I run Neurologiq with more calm, more depth, more clarity. We support organizations, from medium-sized companies to corporations like Thyssenkrupp, in the development and integration of AI. Not as buzzword AI advice. But as operational implementers, where decisions are made.
I am part of expert networks in business and politics, write columns, give lectures, and am still an entrepreneur every day. A human. I make decisions. I doubt. I’m growing. But: I love it.
And most importantly: I would do everything I told you again. Not because it was easy. But because it was mine.
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