How To Hold Yourself Accountable

If I am honest, I don’t like change. I naturally adhere to the old addage, “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” Unfortunately, identifying when something is broken is more difficult that I thought.

For much of my life, I felt that change was something that happened to me. I was reacting to the proverbial “storms of life”. When my family broke apart, 16 years and 4 children into my marriage, I found myself frantically back-peddling. Trying to catch up with another change that had blind-sided me. The stakes were high.

Frankly, it was exhausting to not feel in the drivers seat of my life. But I had no idea how to approach this challenge. Change could come from anywhere. It could happen in any sphere of my life. How was I supposed to know an enemy when I knew so little about it. All I knew was that I noticed this powerlessness when I was going through change.

“Most of us have the same problem our entire life, it’s just to what degree are you going to solve for that deep hole inside of you.” — Leila Hormozi

Going through my divorce, I found myself without some of the stability I had built my life on up until that point:

• Someone who would support me no matter what (don’t get me wrong, this can be a great gift, but it can also be very unhelpful)

• A busy family, where there was “always something to do”, making slowing down an unachievable dream

I came to see that for my entire adult life (or as long as I could remember), I was moving at the pace of a London walk. In London, you don't just walk to work. You launch yourself towards it. The pace is frantic, as you navigate countless bodies. The rush requires all of your attention. In my rush, I realised that I was shockingly unaware of how I was feeling and how this impacted how I showed up for those around me.

“Change is the only constant” - Heraclitus

Change wasn’t the issue. Changes were always happening: In my body, in relationships, in business, in my own perspective. But as I reflected, I realised, change was the catalyst. It was the thing that stirred up my discomfort just enough that I took my eyes off of the rush. And when I did that, it felt very scary!

Change had always been an enemy because I associated it with a feeling of powerlessness. And now, alone in my home, going through a divorce, I realised that I could not ignore it. There was deep discomfort. Sometimes I called it feeling alone. Sometimes, I called it feeling out of control. Sometimes, I didn’t have a word for it, just an immense frustration or anger.

Change wasn’t the problem. I had to change.

I finally became aware that there was a “deep hole inside of me” and I was more driven than ever to solve for it. I wasn’t sure where to start or what to do.

Maybe that is you today.

And so as i reflect on my process and how I navigated one of the hardest seasons in my life, perhaps you can learn from me. I would be very happy if I can save you the destruction of a 20-year marriage, or the loss of $500k, or having to close two businesses that you invested your very heart and soul into for over a decade.

It all started with getting curious about what Leila Hormozi eloquently calls, “that deep hole inside of you.” I had no idea what I was looking for. I didn’t even know there was a hole. I just knew that the fruits of my labor were not producing the results I so desperately wanted. What I could see was my big feelings. What I could see was my wobbly behaviours. What I could see was (because I asked) how I was experienced by others.

While making a decision to change is the first step, its pretty hard to know where to go and what to do at first. Curiosity was my friend. I started reading books, and listening to podcasts. Topics like “heart-ache”, “forgiveness”, and “repairing trust” which were now relevant to my situation, became topics I naturally wanted to explore. Instead of avoiding “big” or “hard” feelings, I explored what people had to say about them.

I also reached out to a few old, wise(r) men, and surrounded myself with their counsel. I was a grown man, but I could for sure use more wisdom. I was met with a lot of compassion, grace and time. What a gift. These men were my lifeline as I embarked on a open-heart surgery.

I took advantage of the quiet to engage with God more authentically. Losing my wife and losing time with my kids left me with a big hole in my calendar. I could have filled it with work, but I chose to fill it with curiosity about my situation, and pursuing God’s comfort. The book of 2 Corinthians (1.3-4) says that God is the “God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction…”

In the process, I realised that I was lacking skills. I discovered stories of other men who were going through similar experiences and somehow surviving. This seemed very unlikely for me. But as I indentified the skills I needed and developed them, I found myself being able to face change. It was no longer as scary any more. If you had asked me 2 years earlier, I would have said this was possible. Loss was still hard but I was learned to embrace it courageously rather than with despair. Disappointment was met with compassionate understanding, not toxic positivity. Discouragement was met with presence, not avoidance.

Change was no longer my enemy, but rather an opportunity to engage life fully and become the man I want to be for my kids, my romantic partner and those closest to me.

I realise this isn’t an authority article, with clear how-tos or established methodologies. Those will come. The purpose of this article is to provide a small window into my world, where I came from, and where I am going. Despite this aim, I have taken time to drawn from my recent life experience, practical principles that I use in holding myself accountable. I expect I will write more authoritatively on these topics in the near future. For now, here they are:

How I hold myself accountable.

My main objective is no longer output per unit of time.

I wear the hat of a scientist and father when engaging my emotions.

Established support systems.

Knowing there is always a secret option C.

Choosing self-compassion of self-criticism.