Why I don’t think it was courage that got me talking again
Something changed in me after my heart attack that made it a bit easier to talk about the hard stuff. I don’t think it was courage — not really. It was something different to that.
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The Idea That Men Don’t Talk
There’s this idea that men just don’t talk, that we’re built that way. I think that’s a debatable point at times, and I don’t believe it’s fully true — not for me, anyway.
I could always speak to my dad when he was alive, about anything. Just the two of us. He’d give me the best advice he could, and it was always reassuring. Before that, I was in the Merchant Navy for years in my younger days, and some of the bonds I made there — a few of them lifelong now — were built on being able to say anything about anything. What was troubling you, and knowing it would be taken in, and you’d get a conversation out of it, even if you didn’t find an answer there and then.
So the ability to talk and be open was there all along. It never really disappeared.
What Shoved It Down
What shoved it down, I think, was going into business. The hotels especially.
It was never an easy thing to show what was troubling me, because everything felt tied to how the business was doing. I worried that if I opened up, it might reflect on how things were going — a weakness, a vulnerability, something I’d be judged for.
So when times were hard, and there were plenty of hard times, I kept it to myself. I kept quiet. I just battled through it. Only the very close people around me knew and felt it. And I think that quiet build-up of stress played its own part in how the rest of the story goes.
What Actually Changed
After my heart attack, something did change, though I want to be honest about what I think actually caused it.
I was out the hotels. I went back into forestry, working with two old mates in a small team. The work was hard — real deadlines for felling and maintenance — but there wasn’t the same pressure as before. Four o’clock came around, and that was it. I was on the drive home.
I found I had more room, more time somehow, just to be myself, rather than the work swallowing everything up like before.
It Wasn’t Something I Achieved
In that space, I found I could speak more freely — about the past, the present. To my daughters, my sons, my siblings, my mates. To other men who’d been through their own heart attacks too.
But I’ve come to think that openness wasn’t something I achieved. It was something that became possible again, once a lot of the pressure I’d been carrying for years was a great deal lighter.
Not everyone can change their whole situation the way it happened for me, whether that’s by choice or not. So if you’re still in it right now — still carrying whatever makes it feel risky to say you’re struggling — I don’t have a clear answer for what that looks like for you. I just think it might be worth thinking of someone close, maybe a lifelong friend, and arranging a get-together, a coffee or something. Finding a way to tell them a little. Just a little. To maybe get a question back that starts a conversation. That might help a little. Nothing major.
The NHS and the British Heart Foundation both point to talking openly and staying connected to people as a real part of recovering from a heart attack, not something separate from it, and the American Heart Association says much the same for readers outside the UK — that opening up isn’t a side issue. It’s part of getting well.
If the head noise is loud right now, the 7-Day Mind Reset Plan came out of exactly that kind of period.
When One Man Goes First
Here’s the thing I’ve noticed since I started being more open about all this. It didn’t just help me.
When I stopped keeping it to myself and started talking, other men started opening up to me too. A mate who reached out and told me he saw himself completely in something I’d said. A workmate who decided to get himself checked out after a conversation we had one afternoon at work. Messages from men I’ve never met, saying the same thing in their own words.
I don’t think that’s a coincidence. I think when one man goes first, it makes it a wee bit easier for the next one to follow.
So maybe that’s the answer to the question I couldn’t quite answer a minute ago. You don’t need to have it all figured out before you say something. You just need to say the first true thing, and see what it opens up.
Listen and Watch
You can listen to this episode in the player above or watch on YouTube if you prefer.
If you found something in this reflection, you might also connect with:
Helping Others Without Losing Yourself
Who Am I Now?
A Different Kind of Strong
Final Thought
If someone came to mind while you were reading this — someone who’s been carrying something quietly, not sure it’s safe to say it out loud — please share it with them. You don’t need to have the right words. Sometimes this says it for you.
If the head noise is still there in the background: