The Compound Effect of Small Wins: Why Slow Seasons Aren't Failures

KRF Leadership
Oct 2
4 min read

I spent six months feeling like I was doing everything wrong.

While everyone around me seemed to be leveling up, landing opportunities, making moves, I was stuck in what felt like quicksand. I'd wake up, try to be productive, go to bed feeling like I'd accomplished nothing, and repeat. The worst part? I couldn't even point to what was blocking me. I just felt... stalled.

If you're there right now, I see you. And I need to tell you what I wish someone had told me back then.

The Comparison Trap Hits Different

My Instagram feed became torture. Everyone was announcing something—new jobs, business launches, life milestones. Meanwhile, I was celebrating the fact that I got out of bed before noon.

I started believing the lie that I was falling behind, that I'd missed my window, that everyone else had figured out some secret I didn't have access to. The shame of feeling stuck made me want to hide even more.

But here's what I didn't understand then: I wasn't behind. I was being prepared.

When I Started Small (Because I Had No Other Choice)

I didn't wake up one day with some grand plan to change my life. Honestly, I was just desperate to feel like I was moving forward in some way, any way.

So, I started embarrassingly small. I'm talking about actions so tiny they felt pointless.

I sent one cold email a day when I was job hunting, even though I'd gotten zero responses for weeks and felt stupid doing it. I put $5 in a savings jar when I was stressed about money, even though $5 felt like nothing when I needed hundreds. I took five minutes every morning to just breathe and try to calm my racing thoughts, even when it felt like a waste of time because I still ended up anxious.

None of it felt like enough. Most days, I thought I was kidding myself.

The Shift I Didn't See Coming

Here's the weird thing that started happening without me noticing: I became someone different.

Not overnight. Not in some dramatic transformation moment. But slowly, my brain started to believe I was the kind of person who followed through. Each tiny action—even when it felt pointless—was teaching me something about myself.

That one daily email? It trained me to believe I was someone who pursued opportunities, even in silence. That $5? It proved I could build something even when resources were tight. Those five minutes of breathing? My nervous system started to remember that I knew how to create calm for myself.

I wasn't just completing tasks. I was literally rewiring how I saw myself.

What Changed (And What Didn't)

My circumstances didn't magically fix themselves overnight. But I started noticing things:

I had $150 in my savings jar that didn't exist before. I got a response to one of my emails that turned into a real opportunity. I had moments where I could actually calm myself down instead of spiraling. I stopped feeling like I was drowning and started feeling like I was swimming, slowly, toward something.

The slow season wasn't wasted time. It was the foundation I needed to build the discipline that success requires. It taught me who I was when nobody was watching, when there was no external validation, when the only reason to keep going was because I decided it mattered.

That's the most powerful kind of strength there is.

What I Know Now

I'm not going to pretend I have it all figured out. I'm still in seasons where things feel slow, where I question if I'm doing enough, where I compare myself to people who seem further ahead.

But now I know something I didn't know before: slow seasons aren't failures. They're preparation phases.

Every small action I take when it feels like nothing is happening? That's me proving to myself that I'm someone who shows up. The person I'm becoming in the quiet moments is the person who'll be ready when opportunities come.

If You're in a Slow Season Right Now

Pick one thing. Just one. The smallest possible action you could take today that moves you even slightly forward.

Not because it's going to change everything immediately. But because you deserve to prove to yourself that you're someone who shows up, even in the slow seasons. Especially in the slow seasons.

For me, it was $5, one email, five minutes of breathing. For you, it might be something completely different. It doesn't matter what it is. It matters that you start.

Because one day—and I promise you this—you're going to look back and realize that all those tiny actions you dismissed as "not enough" were actually everything.

You're not behind. You're being prepared. And the small wins you're building right now? They're compounding into something bigger than you can see yet.

Trust the process. Trust yourself. And keep showing up, one small win at a time.