I just got off the phone with my dearest maman and I feel sick to my stomach.

I took her call after 3 days of being bound to my laptop and whiteboard, scavenging every full-stack web development bootcamp I could find. It was a scene from your favorite thriller movie where the new guy at the office is piecing together a web of case files, a laser-focused hunt to connect the dots and discover the serial killer, or in my case, where to go next in life. I’ve been plowing through scheduled Google Hangouts, Skype interviews, coding tests, online reviews, admissions phone calls, alumni emails, blogs, tech news, and anything I can get my hands on, trying to scrape the internet for info on the best web dev bootcamp out there.

I truly believe that I can find a software development bootcamp that will cure me of being a confounding cofounder. As a non-technical cofounder, I’ve suffered deeply. The anxiety of having an idea mature into a viable business without a way to build it, the frustration of communicating with novice developers harboring conflicting interests, and the pain of being manipulated as Steinbeck’s Lennie, all come to an end. It is time I act as George and end my startup. Sorry, Lennie. Back to the drawing board, it is time to redefine myself as a CTO.

I took a few moments to reflect, and then took time to return my mom’s call. My mother is a wonderful human being with a jovial outlook on life, but the voice I found was of a woman who was distant, tired, despondent. I gave her the good news of my bootcamp research progress and my wife’s supportive excitement to which my mother pointed out her skepticism regarding a 12-week bootcamp (startup) that could, eventually (when all other startups fail), lead to a higher paying job than my expensive 5-year bachelor’s degree in chemical engineering promised. She mentioned how “[Her friend] asked about you two [wife and I] and I told her you were not making money but still working full-time on your startup. She was shocked because her son had gotten a job and was going to pursue his master’s degree at Virginia Tech.” Good for him, mom. Good for him. I’m still in a robe at 5 o’clock in the afternoon, have a shadow growing that is shamefully later than that, and still have no idea where or what I am going to be in the world next month. I did not realize how guilty I was supposed to be feeling until I found out how my mom’s friend felt about my life.