The Storm Approaches

As January 2020 approached, everything changed with the onset of COVID-19. At 36, I faced Melbourne's lockdown, the longest in the world, only fully emerging from it nearly two years later, at almost 39 and approaching 40. The pressure of time weighed heavily on me.

The pandemic took a toll on my personal life; my five-year relationship crumbled, primarily due to my failure to show the love and compassion she deserved. This left a deep void, making me feel isolated, abandoned, and inadequate. Meanwhile, many of my friends were welcoming their first or second children, leaving me feeling like I was lagging behind.

My business faced a significant downturn, with revenues and staff numbers slashed, which severely impacted my self-image as a successful entrepreneur. I transitioned from leading a team of twelve in an office setting to managing just four remote workers, feeling as though I was operating in a void.

The economic downturn also ravaged my investment portfolio. Emerging from the pandemic, I confronted an identity crisis and a profound life transition. For the first time, I felt stagnant, as if I was regressing instead of progressing. I felt older than ever and burdened by societal expectations.

Confronting the Abyss

Historically, I had always identified as a Stoic individual—strong-willed, an early riser, and a proponent of self-reliance. However, the true test of character reveals itself during challenging times.

The mental and emotional strains I faced during this period were unlike anything I had encountered before. My optimism and sense of agency seemed to evaporate, and I experienced feelings of vulnerability that felt foreign to me. I struggled with negative thoughts, found it difficult to rise from bed, and spoke to myself in ways I would never dream of addressing another person.

In this dark moment, I stared into the abyss. Friedrich Nietzsche once said, "Battle not with monsters, lest ye become a monster, and if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you." The abyss represents the darker aspects of our character. If we allow ourselves to dwell there, we risk becoming the very darkness we wish to resist.

Yet, the abyss can also be a place for growth, allowing us to uncover our true character and emerge stronger.

Embracing Responsibility

By focusing on personal responsibility and drawing from my experiences, I chose the path of growth. After months of introspection, I began to concentrate on what I could control. Journaling became a vital tool for expressing my feelings, gaining clarity, and processing my thoughts.

I reflected on the aspects of my life I still valued—my health, relationships, and opportunities. I took lessons from my past to improve myself for those I cared about. I started a new business, aligning it more closely with my passions and strengths. I committed to daily workouts and aimed for at least 10,000 steps each day.

I reassessed my investments and took time off to travel and heal. I finally made time for activities I had long postponed. Most importantly, I practiced self-love by forgiving myself for past mistakes, recognizing that I had done my best with my previous mindset and circumstances.

I resolved to pursue happiness and rediscovered my character. By taking ownership and focusing on what I could control, I reinstated a sense of agency and progress—key elements of human flourishing. Adopting a mindset of responsibility rather than victimhood allowed me to reclaim my power.

Redefining Good and Bad

Instead of categorizing experiences as purely good or bad, I began to consider how I might view them in a decade instead of merely months. What silver linings might emerge?

Through this journey, I became significantly more empathetic and less egotistical. I learned the importance of living in alignment with my values and discovering my truth rather than conforming to others' expectations.

I also accepted that life resembles an athlete's career, with performance levels evolving over time. We may start as key players in our 20s, transition to supporting roles in our 30s, and eventually become mentors in our 40s. Time is relentless and cannot be fought.

To illustrate this point, I recall a Chinese fable about a farmer and his horse. When the horse ran away, the villagers lamented his misfortune, but the farmer merely shrugged, saying, "Bad luck, good luck, who knows?" Later, the horse returned with a herd of wild horses, prompting the villagers to celebrate his good fortune. The farmer replied, "Good luck, bad luck, who knows?"

When his son fell off one of the wild horses and broke his leg, the villagers expressed their sympathy, but again, the farmer remained unfazed. Finally, when the army took all the able-bodied young men, his son was spared due to his injury. The villagers rejoiced at the farmer's good luck, yet he continued to respond, "Good luck, bad luck, who knows?"

Perhaps the most crucial lesson I learned is that our value should not be based on external circumstances but on our relationship with ourselves. To become our best selves, we must first offer ourselves genuine, unconditional love. Without this foundation, we will always find ourselves battling the monsters lurking in the abyss.

Steve Glaveski is the author of Time Rich: Do Your Best Work, Live Your Best Life. He hosts the Future Squared and Metarise podcasts and frequently contributes to Harvard Business Review. Connect with him on Twitter at @steveglaveski.