Gabby on the precipice.

For an SME owner, your business is like one of your children. There comes a time when it’s right to just move on, let it live its own life and this is the jumping off point.

Gabby sat at her desk, staring at the piles of paperwork she hadn’t managed to get through. It was late afternoon, and the sun cast a warm glow through the window, but she felt anything but warm. For the first time she could remember, she’d let the phone ring out instead of picking it up. She’d always been the first to answer, quick to solve a problem or chat with a customer. Lately, though, she felt tired - bone-deep tired and couldn’t quite summon the same enthusiasm.

Gabby had built her small manufacturing business from scratch 15 years ago. Back then, it was a whirlwind of ideas, long nights, and sheer determination. She loved every bit of it. The thrill of landing a new client, the satisfaction of solving a tricky production issue, even the chaos felt exhilarating. But now, as she shuffled papers and half-listened to the hum of machines out back, she felt a growing sense of disconnect.

The business wasn’t struggling. In fact, it was doing quite well. Sales were steady, the team was solid, and there were no major fires to put out. But maybe that was part of the problem, she felt like she was on autopilot, just going through the motions. It used to be that she woke up excited about the day, her mind buzzing with ideas before her first cup of coffee. Now, she felt like she was wading through the day, one slow step at a time.

It wasn’t that she didn’t care anymore. She still felt proud of what she’d built, but the passion had dulled. She wondered if it was burnout, but it didn’t quite feel like that either. She hadn’t shared her thoughts with anyone, not her husband, who was busy with his own work and not her best friend Dave, who would only worry, and certainly not her staff. She felt a twinge of guilt even thinking about it. After all, this was her dream. Wasn’t she supposed to be grateful?

One Friday afternoon, Gabby found herself at a networking lunch she’d been dreading all week. She’d promised herself she’d make the effort, but once she was there, she found herself tuning out of the usual chatter. It wasn’t until someone mentioned a recent business sale that her ears perked up. A colleague was talking about how, after 20 years, she’d decided to sell her business and take a step back. “It wasn’t easy,” the woman said, “but I realised I’d lost my spark. It was time to let someone else bring in new energy.”

That hit Gabby hard. She hadn’t ever seriously considered selling, but she recognised that feeling of losing the spark. As the conversation continued, she found herself quietly listening, absorbing bits and pieces. Some talked about the relief of stepping back, others about the challenges of letting go. Gabby realised she wasn’t alone in feeling this way.

When she got home that evening, she mentioned the lunch to her husband. “Do you think I’ve lost my spark?” she asked, half-joking. He hesitated before answering, choosing his words carefully. “You’re still amazing at what you do, Gab, but I have noticed you’re… different lately. Quieter. It’s like your heart’s not in it.”

She didn’t know whether to feel relieved or sad that someone else had noticed. The truth was, she was struggling to find a reason to keep pushing, to keep expanding, to keep dreaming. Maybe it was just a phase. Maybe she needed a holiday. But what if it was something deeper?

The following week, Gabby decided to reach out to a business advisor she’d met years ago, John, who specialized in helping SMEs. “I’m not saying I want to sell or anything,” she said during their first call, “I just… I need to understand why I feel like this, and what my options might be.”

John listened patiently. He didn’t rush in with advice or solutions but asked her questions. What did she still enjoy about her work? What drained her? How did she see the business in five years? Did she see herself still at the helm? Slowly, Gabby started to unpack her thoughts, speaking aloud things she hadn’t even admitted to herself yet. She loved her team, and she was proud of what they’d accomplished, but she didn’t have the same drive to grow the business further. It felt like she was stuck between wanting to move on and fearing what that meant.

John suggested she think about the idea of change, not as an end but as a transition. “It’s okay to reimagine your role, Gabby,” he said. “Maybe stepping back doesn’t mean leaving. Maybe it means shifting your focus to what excites you, and letting others take over the parts that drain you. Or, if you do decide to exit, that’s not a failure. It’s a new chapter.”

Gabby hadn’t considered that before. She thought stepping back would be seen as giving up, but now, the idea of a transition felt possible. She still had time to figure it out. Maybe she could start by taking a few more afternoons off, letting her senior team take the reins more often. She’d built a capable team, and maybe it was time to let them shine.

Over the next few weeks, she found herself paying closer attention to the parts of the business that still lit her up, and the parts that didn’t. It was a small shift, but it helped. She felt more at ease, even if she didn’t have all the answers yet. The idea of change didn’t feel quite as scary. She wasn’t sure what the future held, but she was starting to see it as a choice she could make, rather than a tide she had to fight against.

Gabby didn’t have a grand plan yet, but she knew she didn’t have to figure it all out at once. For now, she was open to the idea that change might be okay. And that was a good start.

Business exit is a hell of a process. Not always, but often. If you or anyone you know is considering it and would like someone empathetic and sensible to talk it through with, let’s chat.

+ 64 275 665 682 [email protected] www.regenerationhq.co.nz

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