Most people think startups teach you speed.
Move fast. Execute faster. Ship now. Fix later.
I used to believe that too.
Then I actually ran one.
And somewhere between missed targets, delayed deals, unanswered emails, broken assumptions, and quiet months where nothing seemed to move, I realised something unexpected.
Running a startup did not teach me speed first.
It taught me patience.
Not the polite, wait-in-line kind of patience.
But the stubborn, teeth-gritted, stay-the-course patience that only shows up when quitting would be easier.
I did not learn this lesson from books or talks. I knew it the hard way. Day by day. Year by year.
And often, while talking to myself.
Why is this taking so long?
Why does progress feel invisible?
Am I doing something wrong?
This is what running a startup feels like when nobody is watching.
The Early Myth: Effort Equals Immediate Results
When I first stepped into building a startup, I carried a simple mental model.
If you work hard enough, things move.
If you work longer hours, you see results faster.
If the idea is good, people will notice.
That belief did not survive long.
I remember days when I felt exhausted yet strangely empty. I had meetings, emails, plans, documents, and dashboards. Everything looked busy.
But externally, nothing changed.
No new customers.
No exciting announcements.
No visible breakthroughs.
This feels wrong, I thought. Shouldn’t the effort show results by now?
That was my first real encounter with patience. The uncomfortable kind.
Progress Often Happens Underground
One of the most critical lessons patience taught me is this.
Most progress in a startup happens where you cannot see it.
It happens in conversations that go nowhere today but matter next year.
It happens in drafts that never get published, but sharpen your thinking.
It happens in failed pitches that quietly improve the next one.
From the outside, it looks like stagnation.
From the inside, it feels like pushing a heavy object that barely moves.
I had to remind myself often.
Roots grow before branches.
Foundations come before buildings.
Understanding comes before momentum.
Patience is learning to trust work that hasn’t yet received applause.
Timing Is a Ruthless Teacher
There were moments when I was sure something should work.
The product made sense.
The message was clear.
The market seemed ready.
But reality disagreed.
People listened politely. Then disappeared.
Emails went unanswered.
Follow-ups ended with silence.
At first, I blamed myself.
Maybe I am not convincing enough.
Maybe the idea is flawed.
Maybe I started too late.
Only later did I realise another truth.
Sometimes you are early.
Sometimes the market needs to catch up.
Sometimes people need their own pain first.
Patience taught me to stop forcing doors that were not ready to open.
Not every no means never.
Some no simply means not yet.
Building Trust Is a Slow Craft
In startups, everyone talks about traction.
Users. Numbers. Growth charts.
But very few talk about trust.
Trust does not move at startup speed.
Trust moves at human speed.
I learned that credibility cannot be rushed.
People watch quietly.
They read what you write.
They observe how you respond when things do not work.
They take mental notes long before they ever reach out.
There were times when someone contacted us and said, “We have been following you for years.”
Years.
And I would pause.
All that writing. All that sharing. Someone noticed.
Patience taught me that consistency compounds even when feedback is silent.
The Loneliness of the Long Game
One part nobody warns you about is how lonely patience can feel.
When you are patient, you wait.
When you wait, you stand still.
When you stand still, it feels like everyone else is moving ahead.
You see announcements.
You see funding news.
You see loud successes on social media.
And you ask yourself quietly.
Am I falling behind?
Patience is staying in your lane while others sprint past you, not knowing who will last longer.
I learned to stop comparing timelines.
Every startup runs its own race.
Some are sprints.
Some are marathons.
Some are endurance climbs.
Mine taught me endurance.
Small Wins Are Not Small
Patience sharpened my ability to notice small wins.
A clearer conversation.
A better question from a customer.
A mistake was avoided because of a past failure.
Earlier in my career, I would have ignored these moments.
Now, I pay attention.
Because patience is not passive waiting.
It is active noticing.
Noticing progress that does not trend on charts.
Noticing growth that does not fit a slide deck.
These moments keep you sane when the big wins take time.
Control Is an Illusion
Running a startup slowly strips away the illusion of control.
You cannot control timing.
You cannot control decisions made in other boardrooms.
You cannot control the budget tightening elsewhere.
At first, this frustrated me.
If I just work harder, I can control this, I told myself.
Patience taught me a calmer truth.
You control effort.
You control preparation.
You control how you respond.
Everything else is negotiation with reality.
Once I accepted that, my energy shifted. Less panic. More focus.
Patience Does Not Mean Lack of Ambition
This is important.
Patience is often misunderstood as complacency.
It is not.
Patience is ambition with discipline.
It is knowing what you want while accepting that forcing outcomes usually backfires.
I still push.
I still aim high.
I still feel restless at times.
But patience gives that restlessness direction rather than panic.
The Quiet Confidence That Comes With Time
Something subtle changed over the years.
I stopped rushing to explain myself.
I stopped needing immediate validation.
I stopped chasing every shiny opportunity.
Patience built a quieter confidence.
Not the loud kind.
The grounded kind.
The kind that says, I know what I am building, even if it takes longer than expected.
That confidence is hard-earned. And fragile if you rush.
What I Would Tell My Younger Self
If I could sit across the table from my younger self, I would say this.
You are not slow.
You are early in the process.
You are not failing.
You are learning in public.
You are not stuck.
You are building something that needs time.
And most importantly.
Patience is not the absence of action.
It is action without desperation.
Closing Thoughts
Running a startup did not just teach me how to build products, teams, or strategies.
It taught me how to wait without giving up.
How to stay calm when timelines stretch.
How to keep showing up when results whisper instead of shout.
How to trust work that feels invisible today.
And if you are in that quiet phase right now, where effort feels heavy and progress feels distant, know this.
Patience is not wasted time.
It is preparation disguised as waiting.
I would love to hear your story.
What has patience taught you on your own journey?
Dr. Mazlan Abbas 