Tag: writing

[A Running Log]: Week 2

Eva NurwitaLeave a comment

I don’t run every day; I only do 3-4 times a week. I never intended to do serious running; it was a whim. One Saturday, realizing that I had put on some serious weight out of stress last year, I figured I needed to use the weekend to move my body. Didit came up with this crazy idea to walk 6 KM, and I had never walked that far before. The morning was subdued by grey clouds–I was worried it would rain. He said, “If it rains, we’ll grab a cab and return”. I looked up, and it was very cloudy with a chance of serious meatballs, so I reckoned I didn’t have to walk that far. However, lo and behold, as we passed our first kilometre, no rain showed up. I had never walked around on Saturday morning; all I wanted to do was curl up with my book in a cafe somewhere. Now that my nose was not buried among pages of books, I saw quite a lot of people running at MY PACE. So I was not that slow, I’m just stupid.

I ended up Forrest Gump-ed it. “RUN, EVA RUN!” I had not run for quite a while; my knees, my ankle, my lungs, my whole body felt like they were going to disintegrate by the next step. I had no proper training, pfft, no proper warm-up. My first day of running was a happy disaster. IT WAS MY FIRST 6K!!! (I, of course, was unable to walk the next day). But it hadn’t stopped me from continuing. I did not know why, I even tried the evening one, where the weather is heavy with pollution, and I feel like the whole world is just a big heated pilates room. Didit lent me his watch because I do not have a smart watch. I was so surprised that I achieved pace 7+ for my 5K. Huh, it was not bad at all. I mocked people who run as I did, those who begin at 5:30 AM, and I am one of those people now. I am out by 5:30, arrived home by 6.30 ish, and I already have my first cup of coffee.

By my fourth day running, I decided to ditch the smart watch. I hate looking up at the watch during the run, and I hate worrying about my pace. Those fancy metrics mean something, I am sure. But it steals my joy of running. As metrics no longer mattered to me, I now run for the distance. I questioned myself, what made me run at 5:30 no matter what, even if it is raining, I am out there. I was so surprised, who is this girl?!

As usual, to be immersed in this new interest. I picked a book about running. No. I did not read it to find some theory about running; my form needed improvement, but I don’t think I would fix it by reading a book. I want to read what people think when they are running. I don’t believe people run to flesh out their inner pain. I believe people run to heal their inner pain. Guess what? Haruki Murakami wrote a memoir about running, which is amazing and confirms my suspicions. He wrote:

… As I run, I don’t think much of anything worth mentioning. I just run. I just run in a void. Or maybe, I should put it the other way: I run in order to acquire a void

That’s exactly how I feel about running; I enjoyed running by myself. Sometimes I even turned off the music, I don’t want to think; I need that void. Just me, the sound of my almost collapsing but working lungs, and the tap-tap-tap of my feet. My world is loud, my work is literally about yapping and listening carefully to people yapping, which I love–don’t get me wrong. In my break time, I read, just another activity of absorbing other people’s yaps. Running offers me a sanctuary of silence, a peace. Where I can simultaneously realize how weak I am, and how amazing these mechanics of our body are. How they were created so elaborately in painstaking detail. I found God in my running thoughts. God — and how upsetting an uneven pavement is for my ankles.

Pain is inevitable, but suffering is optional.

A mantra I kept telling myself before my mind decided to stop, maybe just a little bit longer, look until the next person passes us–ah, a way to finally trick the ego as a revenge for their daily bullies on us.

Some additional notes: I love honey and salt as fuel for my morning run. I also think that the running vest is an amazing invention (And the soft flask!). I love bringing my Kindle along so that when I stop at a coffee shop, I can read something. I don’t see many people running for speed in my neighbourhood, which is nice. I also saw more people running in groups. I love running in the rain, but it would be stupid to do it too often. Sleeping really defines the quality of my run; one hour short of sleep meant everything. The functional training works with running and even makes it better. I really want to one day be able to do a half-marathon.

I Begin With Understanding

Eva NurwitaLeave a comment

In the past five months, I have learned a great deal more about life than I had in all the years before. This flood of knowledge has brought a profound change within me, leading to an extraordinary transformation that extends to how I see myself, how I treat others, how I view the way business should be done, and, most importantly, how to be human. 

I judged myself as someone who had failed miserably at building a business. For a long time, I thought I built Vizier simply because I needed a way to live, a way to survive—and yes, it has been a great one. But as time went on, I started to feel this deep urge to build more, to achieve more, and to grow bigger. What began as a side hustle slowly turned into a viable institution, with real responsibilities. Today, it’s a home for five people on my team, and together we’ve worked on so many projects. Our branding pillars stand firm. I know what this institution values, and live by them. For me, “stability” was always the guiding word. But suddenly, without planning it, the word “upscale” took its place. That shift surprised me, but it also excited me. Still, when I look back at my hiring decisions, the capital people poured in to help me, all in the name of stability—I can see how much of it ended in failure. These were lessons I had to learn the hard way. The truth is, I knew nothing about business beyond branding (the surface-level stuff). And that ignorance made me so afraid of risk. In some ways, I’m still that person—still cautious, still fearful. But at least now I understand where I stand, and who I am in this journey.

My purpose in writing this post is for those who come here curious about how I navigated failure and what I am doing now to try to do things better. If you’re here to find out whether my attempts have worked or not, I have to be honest: I can’t give you that answer. I don’t know if this attempt will count as progress. But I do know that taking this step is, without doubt, a significant part of my growth.

Lesson #1: I Understand Now that Building the Business Cannot Be Without Building its People

I realized my past mistakes: I had hired capable people. I looked at their CV and was awed by their impressive numbers and the fantastic job descriptions of their past work. I called them for an interview, felt a match, and directly hired them. Found out that I was not satisfied with their work, and kicked them after probation, or kicked them too long for the leeching on my budget. To be honest, writing this made me upset at myself. Here are things that I did wrong:

  • I had hired entirely based on CV and interview. I saw a match, NOT a fit. My shortcoming was judging them as capable from the onset of our first meeting. I was not being critical—people can write whatever in their resume, but I failed to question how they achieved it. I was transforming myself into a results-oriented boss, rather than a process-oriented mentor. See, this is why this is my biggest mistake. When it comes to work, the process and the attention to detail are what define success in Vizier. We deal with people; our sales are about making them trust our services and showing them the process. I fatally hired people who sold results and were incapable of explaining the process. It’s like I was seeking people to sell the ice cream machine, but ended up hiring someone who sold the ice cream itself.
  • Once they were onboarded, I forgot to give them space to grow. During their probation, I let them figure things out on their own, making this their first (and biggest) test. This was wrong. Their biggest test should have been after they understood their full responsibility, grasped the stated goals, were provided with sufficient company foundations, and, if needed, received skill onboarding. They should then have been given specific KPIs to achieve. I should have been there as a railing, as guiding hands. Instead, I was setting them up to fail from the beginning. To grow, a plant needs water (as a means of external capital) and pressure (as a means of internal motivation)–I was not providing both.
  • I took too long to let go. I made the decision to hire too personally; I believed that if they failed, it meant I had failed. But that’s not true. In some cases, people are simply not who we are looking for. Their failure may be a lesson for my hiring decisions, but it is not a fixed proof of whether I am right or wrong. In some cases, people do take advantage of us or take their work for granted, and when that continues even after we’ve given feedback, nudges, and help, the sooner we let them go, the better it is for the business.

What I am trying to do now is not repeat the above mistakes and maintain this realization in every one of my current hiring and onboarding decisions. I also have to constantly remember that my team members are human first before they are my team members.

Lesson #2: I Understand Now That I Cannot Lead Without Knowing Who I Am

I thought I knew myself. I had gone through difficult experiences in life that I believed had uncovered who I am. But it turns out that was only a small slice of me. Knowing that I am resilient and that I work well under pressure does not mean I truly understand myself. Real understanding doesn’t start from the good things—it begins with facing the darker side of me. My fears and how those fears create limiting beliefs that shape my behavior.

At the beginning of this year, I was fortunate enough to be introduced to the people at Talentbox. They embraced me like family. I had the chance to facilitate some of their training, and in return, they gave me a workshop that allowed me to have a deep conversation with myself. In this workshop, I interviewed the people closest to me and asked for their feedback. From that feedback, I was able to define my biggest current challenge. Not only did I learn how this challenge limits me, but I also discovered how to face the next fear that might emerge as I continue to grow. I have so many thoughts about this workshop, but I’ll save those for a separate post.

What I realized was a stark truth about why I keep having similar communication problems with my team. Why I resist feedback, and why my own feedback to others has often been ineffective. These problems aren’t just about techniques—they come from within. I wondered how I had managed people all this time without truly understanding myself: how I communicate, what my preferences are, how I work, and what blind spots I carry. No wonder it always felt chaotic. As I began to work through these patterns, I found myself less consumed by constant troubleshooting. And with that, I gained more space to think about my goals, the business’s goals, and the essential components of building Vizier.

Lesson #3: I Understand Now That Being Assertive Helps A LOT

Laugh at me if you want, but yes—if I can avoid conflict and make people happy, I will. If I can say something that makes a bad situation sound lighter, even when it’s actually vital information to hear, I usually will. I hate to admit this, but I grew up around loud, angry people, and the thought of putting myself back in the middle of that kind of situation is something I would rather avoid.

However, I’ve also learned that this habit makes my voice shaky and untrustworthy. People often feel the need to double-check my words from different angles, and I don’t like that. It takes real courage for me to step away from this pattern, to say what’s on my mind clearly, and at the same time remain empathetic.

When I dug deeper into the reason, I found that I often put myself in other people’s shoes too much. I project my own fears onto them, which ultimately creates more chaos than clarity. If I’m afraid someone can’t take my feedback, then I act in a way that shows I don’t believe they’re capable of working with me. And because of that, eventually, they can’t. 

Now, I’m learning to break that cycle. I may not always get it right, but I’ve become more confident in voicing my thoughts—even when it leads to conflict, or sometimes creates more problems. Because I’d love how it feels for the long run, honest communication builds trust, and that is worth the discomfort.

In the end, I see this season as a chapter of growth. I am learning that building a business is not just about strategies, numbers, or even people—it starts with me. The more I understand myself, the more space I have to guide Vizier with clarity and purpose. I don’t have all the answers yet, and maybe I never will, but I know that every step, every lesson, and every challenge is shaping me into the kind of leader who can build something that truly lasts.

Sunday Notes: Thoughts of 2024

Eva NurwitaLeave a comment

I haven’t been writing online much lately. I had told myself I would “show my work”—share with the world what I’m capable of. But the reality is, my energy and capabilities are so consumed by the demands of life that it feels nearly impossible to find the time to reflect and write about them. I started wondering if this was just another fleeting commitment, another “anget-anget tai kotok” moment I’ve brought upon myself time and time again. At one point, I even began questioning whether I’m better at planning than executing—this blog feels like undeniable proof of that suspicion.

Yet here I am, on a quiet rainy Sunday, bored and yawning, deciding to write a post that, to be honest, has no clear direction or purpose. But let’s say, it’s a start.

I do not have any theme today, but just series of updates and strong thoughts I have in my mind lately:

2024 is absolutely a chaotic but a productive year.

Building a business was never something I envisioned for myself. I always imagined I’d work in a corporate setting or an NGO, dedicating my efforts to endless economic research—something I believed I was good at. After all, isn’t that what people are supposed to do? Stick to what they’re good at? The thought of creating an institution, hiring a team, and setting ambitious business goals never crossed my mind.

Yet here I am, wrapping up the 2025 planning and outlining the KPIs my team needs to achieve by the end of next year. And you know what? It feels good—really good. I’m proud of this institution, its solid purpose, and the values we stand for. While I still wrestle with insecurities about how I lead: my team, they’re an incredible setup, and I couldn’t ask for a better group to bring this vision to life.

This year, we had the privilege of working with incredible mentees—individuals who are not only pursuing their next degrees but are also creating meaningful impact along the way. We partnered with outstanding companies and collaborators, finally laying the B2B foundation we’ve been planning for so long. Our network is growing stronger, and we’ve become a little bolder in negotiating terms. It’s been a year of progress, partnerships, and promising steps forward.

But the process, oh man, I cannot tell you that it was easy. There were countless nights of crying myself to sleep, endless entries of angry journaling, and more anxious moments than I could count—so many that I developed a persistent eye twitch from the stress. I haven’t taken a proper holiday this year and can’t even recall stopping for more than a single day to rest. I felt miserable, constantly grappling with the belief that no matter how much I gave, it was never enough. I found myself wishing for more than 24 hours in a day just to keep up with everything on my plate.

Mid-year, I gave up working out—something I used to rely on for balance—because the pressure of my routine became unbearable. Missing a single workout added to my stress, and with the chaotic schedule, it became impossible to keep up. I’m sure I’ve gained a significant amount of weight, but I still can’t summon the courage to step on a scale and confirm it. It’s been a tough year, and the toll it’s taken is undeniable.

By now, you might be wondering where I’m going with this. What I’m trying to say is: I am privileged. I get to work on something I love—something driven by clear purpose, direction, and goals. That doesn’t mean it’s been easy, nor do I expect it ever will be. But here we are, in November, and I can confidently say it’s been a good run this year.

There’s still plenty to improve, and I’ll keep striving to perfect the work we do. At the same time, I’m hoping to get better at managing myself—finding balance, embracing rest, and learning to handle the challenges with a little more–if not, grace.

A Steep Cost I Paid During GradSchool Has Finally Paid Off

And I think this is where we should take a moment to appreciate graduate school. It’s not just about earning a degree—it’s about the lessons you learn in the process, especially the ability to compartmentalize stress. That, I believe, is one of the best skills I gain from surviving grad school.

I am working on this project—a pilot project with a new partner. This project has an unclear timeline, unrealistic metrics, and overwhelming expectations. I was completely under pressure, struggling to navigate through constant changes and demands. I became so emotionally entangled with the project that it started to disturb my mental well-being.

However, then, as if a switch flipped in my mind, I realized something crucial: this project had been meticulously prepared over the course of five months. The groundwork was solid, the execution phase was finally here, and I wasn’t alone—I had all the support systems I needed, and the team I worked with was incredibly versatile.

That overwhelming survival instinct that had gripped me at the start began to fade. It was replaced by a more strategic mindset—a series of tactical lists and actionable steps to approach the project methodically. This was the moment I understood the invaluable skill I had honed during grad school: the ability to shift from panic-driven survival mode to a calm, tactical approach. It’s not something that happens overnight, but through the trials of graduate school, it becomes second nature—a skill I carry with me into every challenge I face.

At the peak of my grad school journey, just two weeks before my comprehensive exam, I hit a wall. I was completely overwhelmed by a microeconomics question that refused to budge no matter how many times I tried to solve it. Frustration consumed me, and I felt like giving up. It wasn’t just about the question—it was the looming weight of the exam and everything it represented–a continuation of my study.

I vented to my study buddy, half-expecting her to commiserate. Instead, she told me to hang up, put on my running clothes, and go for a run. “Think about it,” she said, “life can’t hinge on a microeconomics question. Come back, have a good meal, email your professor for guidance, and try again tomorrow.”

At that moment, her words felt like a lifeline. She reminded me to step back, to breathe, and to let go of the pressure I had placed on myself. That simple advice—run, recharge, and regroup—somewhat became a cornerstone of how I approached challenges from that point forward.

Then again, this lifeline wouldn’t have felt like a lifeline if grad school didn’t sometimes feel like a life-or-death situation. It was through these moments of intense pressure that I learned to refocus. I began to understand that life is so much bigger than my stress, that problems—no matter how daunting—can be approached methodically, and that asking for help is not a sign of weakness but a practical solution.

One of the most valuable lessons I gained was learning how to contain chaos. Just because one area of my life felt out of control didn’t mean it had to seep into everything else. Grad school taught me how to compartmentalize, how to keep the messy parts from overshadowing the calm, and how to keep moving forward, even when things felt overwhelming. It’s a skill I carry with me now, and one I’ll always be grateful for.

Now, back to the working field. It’s Sunday evening, the rain is tapping gently against the window, and the sky is fading into darkness. It feels like the perfect moment map out the week ahead. There’s a quiet sense of purpose in this ritual, a chance to bring structure to the chaos and set the tone for what’s to come. So, that’s what I’m going to do.

Talk to you again soon.

Take care,