THERE’S A UNIQUE energy in Bunnings on a Saturday morning. Blokes like me are hurrying around looking for gardening stuff before heading back home, sausage in hand, ready to attack the lawns and hedges.
The trouble is I wasn’t feeling that vibe one fateful day in 2019. I’d begun the day with a relatively insignificant headache that I’d tried to wash away with a few cups of coffee, a cheeky can of Coca-Cola and some Panadol.
It wasn’t working.
As I tried to keep ticking stuff off my shopping list, the pounding in my head kept escalating to the point of exquisite pain. My chest tightened. My vision narrowed. And my hands were sweaty with panic. I could barely think, let alone breathe properly.
Was I having a heart attack? In truth, I didn’t know. But there was a good chance I was about to collapse on the floor and make a spectacle of myself.
So I did the only thing an ultra-responsible middle-aged man does in a situation like this – I irresponsibly drove home in a cloudy fog of panic.
Mercifully, I made it home and collapsed. I was a complete mess, involuntarily screaming and writhing in pain as my wife came to my aid with icepacks for my forehead and the good old brown paper bag – a calming technique straight out of the movies.
The good news is it turns out I wasn’t dying. But I was having a massive panic attack.
The trouble is I didn’t see it coming and I’d never experienced anything like this before. It wasn’t supposed to be part of my story. Mental health issues, panic attacks and depression were things other people experienced. Not me.
Well, skip forward a few weeks and there I was, staring at my GP and wondering why my life had gone sideways. I’d become that guy: clinically depressed, unable to handle loud noises and large crowds. I’d been off work a couple of weeks and was starting to wonder what the future would hold.
How did we get here?
The short story is life in the middle ages had caught up with me. I’d been carrying huge stresses for too many years as co-founder and CEO of a marketing agency. I was feeling the responsibility of married life with four children, two dogs and a giant Sydney mortgage. Was it all going to come crashing down?
The stories we tell ourselves
That day in Bunnings was a turning point because it forced me to face my fears. I’d been pushing my stress and self-doubt way down like Marge Simpson. The story I was telling myself, I discovered later, was that I didn’t believe I had what it takes to lead our company out of the tough times. Was I a good leader?
My inner critic was stopping me from being my best self. I felt stuck, caught up in bad eating habits and not looking after myself. What was the point?
Negative stories like this build us up or tear us down. They shape our beliefs about what’s possible, and in turn shape our behaviour.
I’ve since discovered in my work with leaders that negative self-talk – I’m not good enough, or I don’t deserve to succeed – is quite common.
Australia isn’t the lucky country these days. We’re the burned out country. The rate of burnout among working professionals is above 60 percent, well above the already terrible global burnout rate of 48 per cent.
There’s more: Gallup research found our daily stress levels have increased consistently for the past 15 years, and our sense of wellbeing has kept falling during the same period. In short, too many of us are not happy.
What’s the solution?
If you’re feeling stuck, burned out, or generally unimpressed with life, the simple story is it’s time to go back to basics. I call them the four pillars of self-care.
First up, take control of your eating, sleeping and exercise. Each one is well-known and easily avoided to your detriment. It’s not hard to eat junk food, get poor sleep and avoid exercise. But the truth is your body keeps a record. You can only push it so far before you’ll have your own Bunnings moment.
Now to the fourth pillar, self-talk. This is where that voice in your head we call the inner critic, your limiting beliefs and your personal narrative come into play. What kind of life do you expect to live? Maybe it’s growing old on a farm, fixing old cars and traveling the world.
The trick is most of us don’t think too much about self-talk, and yet it’s the key to unlocking all four pillars.
In my book The Story Code I write about the process of rewriting your old, negative story that keeps pulling you down. We need to develop an Inner Coach, a set of Healthy Beliefs and understand your personal archetype – who you are in this grand journey.
We don’t have time to unpack the whole story, but here’s the CODE, or process that will help change your story:
Challenge your inner critic and limiting beliefs. What’s the truth? There’s likely real stories of success in your own life that you’ve forgotten. Write them down.
Overwrite your old story. Reimagine yourself as a character in your story who’s going to achieve the impossible.
Decide what your ideal life and destiny story will be. This is your moment of commitment.
Encode is where it all comes together. Develop daily habits across all four pillars that take you step-by-step towards your new story.
I wish it was a quick process, but that’s not realistic. Like a good movie or novel, it takes time. The good news is that I’m living proof of what happens when you use the code. I’ve kept leaning into my fears and working on the four pillars of self-care.
Even better, I’ve made my peace with that aisle in Bunnings and the lawns have never looked better.
What’s your story?
Mark Jones is a journalist, author and mindset strategist. His book, The Story Code, is available at markjones.au or Amazon.
