You get what you give
Rethinking competition, generosity, and the energy you bring to the room
In my first startup, I found myself obsessed with competitors, even the ones who weren’t building anything close to what we were.
Any funding announcement from an adjacent healthcare company could send me into a tailspin. It didn’t matter whether they were working on the same problem or something only loosely related. I treated every headline like a data point I had to react to. Should we be raising too? Were we on the wrong track? Had we already fallen behind?
That reaction made sense in retrospect. I didn’t fully trust my own instincts yet. Because I was still figuring so many things out, I was constantly looking outward for direction. I told myself I was being strategic, but really, I was just grasping for a map: something to tell me I was on the right path (or at least not on the wrong one.)
This isn’t an uncommon experience—especially among first-time founders, and sometimes even the second or third time around. In the early stages of building something, it’s easy to let someone else’s momentum influence your own, particularly when the path ahead is unclear and everything feels high-stakes.
But over time, that mindset wears you down. It narrows your thinking, drains your creative energy, and invites a low-level anxiety that never really goes away. In my case, I was constantly monitoring instead of building. Reacting instead of shaping.
You can see versions of this everywhere. OpenEvidence recently filed a lawsuit against Doximity, alleging that someone impersonated physicians to access its AI system—attempting to extract prompts and internal logic by posing as users (Bloomberg Law).
Around the same time, the Rippling and Deel saga escalated: accusations of fake Slack channels, a planted hire, and business plans allegedly lifted from inside a shared office (Axios).
In the early days of QE, I had my own brush with that kind of energy. We noticed a particular competitor signing up with burner emails and fake names to poke around the product. But that wasn’t the only tactic they used in an attempt to destabilize us. There were legal maneuvers as well, framed as routine but clearly intended to distract or intimidate.
Now, with more distance, I see that kind of hypervigilance—on their part and mine—for what it is: misdirected energy. It might push things forward in a narrow, short-term way, but it also locks you into a reactive posture. The more you rely on that mode, the harder it is to shift out of it. And every ounce of effort spent anticipating someone else’s next move is effort you’re not putting into building something meaningful.
When you’re clear on what you’re building and why, it’s easier to stay focused. You can observe others without losing your footing. But if you’re still searching for direction, looking to competitors won’t give you clarity. It only makes the real signal—the one that’s specific to you and your product—easier to miss.
These days, I still keep track of who’s working in the same space, but the intent is different.
I’m not just scanning for threats; I’m scanning for resonance. I want to know what others are experimenting with, where they’re taking risks, what I might learn. Sometimes, there's even potential to collaborate. IMO it’s simply a better way to operate: more energizing, more sustainable, and ultimately, more effective.
You still need a huge competitive edge, of course. But I don’t think that edge comes from secrecy or surveillance. It comes from execution. From staying close to your users, grounded in your values, and building something with enough substance and internal strength that even a copycat couldn’t replicate the core.
I’ve also gotten clearer on what openness and helpfulness actually look like. I genuinely enjoy helping, especially when someone’s early in their journey. I remember how disorienting and isolating that stage can be.
At the same time, I’ve become more discerning about how and when I engage. These days, I have little patience for vague, extractive outreach. It often starts with “I’m super lost” and quickly turns into “Can you send me your GTM plan, investor list, and biggest lessons?”
It’s not about gatekeeping; it’s about conserving focus for the people and questions that are moving with real intent.
That shift—toward openness with boundaries—has made everything better. Conversations are more grounded. Feedback is sharper. Intros feel more thoughtful and aligned. The energy is clearer: more reciprocal, less transactional.
Someone once told me, You attract the energy you emit. I used to brush it off as overly tidy and even a bit woo-woo.
But now I see the pattern again and again in the steady, compounding effect of how you choose to show up. Lead with curiosity, and you’ll find more of it. Move from trust, not fear, and the right people tend to stick around.
And when you give from a place of conviction rather than anxiety, what comes back is often more valuable and more lasting than whatever you feared losing.