I was supposed to launch the Founder Resource Bundle six weeks ago.
Then five weeks ago. Then four. Every time I set a deadline, I'd push it back.
Not because I was lazy. Not because I didn't care.
Because it wasn't perfect yet.
The templates needed better formatting. The guides needed clearer structure. The whole thing needed to look more... professional.
And meanwhile, my other priorities were piling up. Client work. New content. Conversations I'd been delaying. But I kept telling myself: "Just one more week. Then it'll be ready.”
And here's the embarrassing part:
I know this is bullshit.
I've spent years helping founders escape exactly this trap. I've written about it. I've built systems to prevent it.
"Perfect is the enemy of done."
"Resources are finite."
"Launch and iterate."
I say this stuff every week. And yet, there I was. Six weeks into delays. Polishing. Tweaking. Waiting.
That's when my cat started throwing up.
It was a Tuesday morning. I had blocked the entire day to finalize everything. No meetings. No distractions. Just me and my laptop.
Then at 7am, I heard that horrible sound from the hallway.
My cat. Vomiting.
Again. And again.
I cleaned it up. Sat back down. Opened my laptop.
Ten minutes later — same thing.
By noon, I'd cleaned up vomit four times, called the vet, and hadn't written a single line.
That evening, sitting on the couch with my exhausted cat sleeping next to me, I opened my project board. Six weeks of delays staring back at me.
And I thought: this is exactly what I've been doing with the launch.
Waiting for the perfect moment. The perfect version. The perfect conditions.
Reality doesn't care what you know.
Years ago, I learned this lesson the hard way.
I hired someone I believed in. Spent months training them. Shared everything I knew. Built them up from junior to someone who could run projects independently.
Then one morning, they were gone, no warning, no handover, just an empty desk and a resignation email sent at 2am.
And for months after, I couldn't let go of anything. Every hire felt risky. Every delegation felt dangerous. I told myself I was being careful. Responsible.
But really I was just scared.
Scared that if I didn't control everything myself, it would fall apart. That fear kept me stuck for years. Working nights. Approving everything. Being the bottleneck.
Until I finally built systems that forced me to delegate. Clear ownership. Documented processes. Boundaries that protected me from my own control issues. And it worked. The business grew. I stepped back. I had space again.
I thought I'd solved it.
Six weeks into delaying the bundle launch, I realized something uncomfortable.
I wasn't perfecting the templates. I was avoiding the launch.
Because launching meant letting it go. Letting people see something that wasn't me anymore. Something I couldn't personally touch and improve every day.
The same fear. The same pattern. Just dressed up as "quality standards" instead of "control."
And the worst part… I knew this. I help avoid this.
But knowing doesn't make you immune.
We're human. We slip back into old patterns under pressure. Especially when we're tired, stressed, or working alone. That's why systems matter. Not because they're efficient. Because they protect you from yourself.
The cat throwing up was the universe's way of saying: you don't control everything, and you never will. So that night, I did what I should've done weeks earlier.
I opened my "must-have before launch" list.
And crossed out half of it.
Not because those things weren't valuable. But because they were keeping me from the one thing that actually mattered: launching.
The next morning, I hit publish.
Was it perfect? Not even close. But it was live, and that's what mattered.
And now it could start growing. Evolving. Getting feedback from real people instead of just my own anxious brain.
There's a difference between knowing something and living it.
I know perfectionism is just expensive procrastination. I know resources are finite. I know "good enough" beats "perfect someday."
But when I'm in the middle of it — stressed, overwhelmed, deadline approaching — I forget.
I slip back into old habits. Old fears. Old patterns.
And that's the uncomfortable truth most business advice skips:
Knowing the answer doesn't mean you'll follow it.
That's why systems are so valuable.
They remember when you forget. They enforce boundaries when you're too tired to hold them. They keep you moving forward when your brain wants to polish one more thing.
Open your task list.
Find the one project you've been "almost finishing" for weeks.
Now ask yourself honestly:
Am I really making it better? Or am I just scared to let it go?
Write down your answer.
Then cross out half your checklist and launch it anyway.
So here's my question for you:
What are you still holding onto that you already know you should release?
Reply and tell me. I read every response.
P.S. The cat is fine. The bundle is live and growing. Turns out "good enough" was exactly what it needed to be.



