What I’d Tell My Younger Self
If I could sit down with the man running those hotels before any of this happened, I know exactly what I’d tell him. Not slow down. Not stop dreaming. Master the art of delegation.
If I could sit down with the man running those hotels before any of this happened, I know exactly what I’d tell him. Not slow down. Not stop dreaming. Master the art of delegation.
I’ve always known it’s better to respond than react — behind a bar, in a busy kitchen. But it took a heart attack to teach me to turn that same skill inward, on myself.
Before my heart attack, strength was physical — kegs, timber, chainsaws, never a second thought. After it, I thought that strength was gone for good. What I found instead was something completely different — and worth so much more.
After my heart attack, when the why me question hit, I already knew the answer. But not everyone does. And this week, losing a mate to a heart attack, that question came back in a different way entirely.
When I walked back through my front door after my heart attack, I found the cushions on the floor, the bucket, my towel — and looked across at my family photos thinking I’d seen them for the last time. This is about the question nobody prepares you for after surviving a cardiac event. Who am I now?
When you’ve been honest about your own struggles, people start opening up to you. But there’s a line — and I crossed it before I saw it coming. This is about helping others without running yourself into the ground.
There’s a part of recovery nobody prepares you for. Not the physical side — the quiet grief that comes with saying goodbye to the life you had before. There’s even a name for it: ambiguous loss. This is about mourning the old life, and finding room for the new one.
Most men who’ve been through a heart attack know what they should be doing. But knowing something and actually doing it — when life, finances, and responsibility are pulling in the opposite direction — is a completely different thing. This week that gap caught me out.
After a heart attack, everyone tells you what to do with your body. But nobody really tells you what to do with who you were before. This is about the quiet shift in identity that comes after surviving something — wanting the old you back, learning to let him go, and figuring out who you’re becoming next.
It took me 11 years to talk about this.
After a heart attack, it’s not just the physical recovery you carry — it’s everything that comes after it. The fear, the silence, and the things you don’t know how to say. This is why I’m finally showing up and speaking about it face to face.