Face to Face With Your Own Mortality
A quiet Saturday ride, a loch, and an engine cut to silence. Twelve years on, this is where my own mortality finds me now.
A quiet Saturday ride, a loch, and an engine cut to silence. Twelve years on, this is where my own mortality finds me now.
There’s a tree I love planting more than any other — the kind that outlives the man who put it in the ground. This is the story of why I started building something with that same purpose in mind.
I’ve always known how to look after people. What I didn’t know how to do was let someone look after me.
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.
Anger isn’t usually on the list of things you expect after a heart attack. But it shows up quietly — in the everyday frustrations when your body won’t do what it used to. This is about the anger so many men feel but rarely talk about, and why a lot of it is really grief in disguise.