The toughest days so far have not been the longest ones. They have been the ones filled with anxiety. Where control seems like an illusion. Where uncertainty paralyzes progress, and all you can do is wait, while anxiety engulfs the depths of your cranium.

Our biggest investment — the magic machine — is more than a month late. It’s been four months since we placed the order, trying our best to plan ahead, hoping foresight would hedge hindrance.

But there’s only that much you can anticipate. Only that much you can control. Which doesn’t mean nothing is controllable, just that all you can do is direct the sailboat in the right direction, and hope it catches wind.

In the larger scheme of things, it’s really not the end of the world. And that zoomed-out perspective is important, because day-to-day, everything seems important.

Everything about my enterprise seems important. Everything outside of it seems irrelevant.

I feel like my life has now become supremely one-dimensional. There’s no time for new friends, or new adventures, or travel logs, or a new TV show. The idea of dating seriously seems like a nightmare of commitment that I know I’m going to fumble. The idea of keeping plants in my house feels like pressure I don’t need — I don’t want them to die. My weekly work wardrobe is now monotonous and comfortable, so I have one less irrelevant thing to worry about. I am balding, mainly because of my genes, so, much to the shock of my darling parents, I’m trimming it away, which saves me from doing one more thing after my morning shower. I have given up meat because of the hypocrisy it reeks in relation to the work I do. Comfort seems like a trap.

I know this sounds like a prison of sorts, but the irony is that its self-designed and intentional. I crave rhythm so that my conscious deliberation can be focused on the tough, complex problems I have chosen to solve, while minimizing inconsistencies along the way that foster self-loathe.

And I am friggin’ loving it.

I am finally reaping the contentment of delayed gratification.

Ever since I quit the corporate rat-race to pursue purpose, I have been building up to this. And it all seemed dreamy in the beginning, but the work has been put in, and some four years later, the seeds are bearing fruit.

But there’s still a long way to go. I barely even consider myself an entrepreneur. Yes, we have built and we are building, but we haven’t really changed anyone’s life yet, or even sold anything for that matter.

The unfair advantage of having risk-free capital has made the journey so far infinitely simpler. We have had the fortune of early breakthroughs and minimal setbacks, but we don’t even have a product yet. We need the magic machine for that. It’ll be here in a couple of weeks. Maybe.

So yes, plenty of entrepreneuring left to do. And hopefully, that never changes.