The Rebirth of a Workaholic

How a Near-Death Experience Helped Me Redefine Success

There is nothing like a near-death experience to change one’s perspective on what success looks like.  Sitting in a hospital bed with stabbing chest pain, feeling my heart skip beats for seconds at a time, taught me that if life is always a struggle, we’re doing it wrong.  

Years ago, I bought into the push, push, more, more philosophy so prevalent in our culture.   I would wake between 3 and 4am, start working before 5am, and have a personal development audiobook playing in my earbuds all day.  I would watch how-to videos on YouTube while eating lunch.  Energy drinks throughout the day kept me going till close of business.  I forgot what my home looks like when the sun shines on it.    

It didn’t help that the how-to-be-a-man statements like – quit being lazy, get to work, toughen up, push through it – were deeply ingrained in me.  I can still hear Arnold Schwarzenegger’s voice in my head, “You have to work hard to succeed,” and my Dad’s voice, “C’mon boy, suck it up.  Get tough.”  

When my first daughter was born, my father said it was time to, “make myself into something she could be proud of.”  Work and personal development became my drugs of choice.   When people asked me how I was, the default response was to impersonate Forrest Gump, “I just kept run-nang.”   I wore my overwhelm like a badge of honor.  The external narrative was, “I’m so busy.  We are getting stuff done!”    

The internal narrative was, “I’m not a lazy piece of shit.  Look at me, I’m Mr. Goodboy.  Aren’t you proud?”  I had something to prove, mostly to myself.  I had to prove that I was better than what I grew up with.  I had to prove I was worthy.  My own personal self worth was tied to my mechanic business growing ever increasing revenue.  Every time I reached the goal post, I found it moved even further away.  $5000 a week became $8000 a week, then $10k, then $20k, on and on.  It was never enough because I was never enough for me.

In truth, I was hiding from the pain I held inside me, using work to distract myself from myself.  My pain was a combination of many things.  From a preteen age, my maternal grandfather would call me a “stupid motherfucker,” and a “god-damned little prick.”  My mom was a manic depressive non-functioning alcoholic who needed to be taken care of often, with my grandmother being the enabler.  

Early neglect and trauma presented as pain in my body, and I was diagnosed with multiple auto-immune disorders including Ankylosing Spondylitis and Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis.  My emotional pain morphed into physical pain that presented as digestive issues and a constant deep ache in my muscles.  The stress from running my mechanic shop worsened my symptoms and I used copious amounts of anti-inflammatories and alcohol to numb myself to sleep.  To bust out of my morning grogginess, I would consume between 500 to 1000 milligrams of caffeine a day.  It was a self perpetuating struggle cycle.    

I was unfamiliar with anything but struggling, so just kept struggling harder, thinking one day I would finally be free from it all.  That’s what they teach in all the books, you have to delay gratification right?  I think of Dave Ramsey’s favorite quote, “If you live like no one else, later you can live like no one else.”  One employee called me the most driven person he had ever met.  I drove harder than most ever will.  I didn’t stop until the mantra of toughen up and push through pushed me into a hospital bed.

I lost forty pounds in three months.  I had severe chest pain, heart palpitations, and bloody stools.  I had an impending sense of doom that followed me around like an obsessed young man following his crush around, creepy as hell but too afraid to say hello.  When I went to see my doctor about a knife-like feeling in my heart, he admitted me to the hospital.

My wife brought my three young children in to see me in the hospital.  When my kids saw me with tubes and wires hanging off of me, they started crying and were afraid to approach me.  That was when my heart broke and my perspective shifted.  I wondered why I had been working so hard.  Why was I working 100 hours a week? I already had everything and more I needed to be happy, yet I was miserable.  The people in that hospital room with me were the only ones who would remember how hard I worked.  All I wanted was to make quality memories with them.  To ride bicycles, go on camping trips, and to teach them the lessons I wish I learned through my behavior rather than words.

Upon reflection, I see that for years I was running from something rather than running to something.   No wonder I burnt myself out.  Just like a bad relationship, it’s hard to see the toxicity when you are too close.  I was trying to numb my pain through external means – money, sex, losing myself to video games, alcohol, nyquil, etc. instead of slowing down and paying attention to what my body needed.  My struggling was like a clenching fist that kept a firm grasp on what I didn’t want, and wouldn’t allow what I did want to enter.

The most impressive thing about slowing down and taking care of myself is I became more productive.  The clenching fist relaxed and I started to see my dreams become reality.  My business went from making 10k a week to 40k a week.  In that same time period I wrote my first novel.  I started playing guitar again and taking trips with the family.  I started going on retreats and spending time with like-minded people who are also recovering self-improvement junkies. 

One of my favorite moments of my life happened today.  I took a break in the middle of writing this article, picked my kids up from school, and took them to a restaurant.  Just me and the young three sat at a table eating, laughing, and cutting up.  

Near the end of our meal, a wonderful woman walked over to our table and said, “I’ve been watching y’all this whole time.  Your laughter and play has brought so much joy to my heart.  Kids, cherish this moment with your dad.  This truly is a moment worth remembering for the rest of your lives.”  

Boom.  What might have been a mundane meal distracted by worries, phones, and devices was actually a moment that brings tears to my eyes as I write about it.  

How did my definition of success change after this?

My New Five Metrics for Success

Previously, I used task accomplishment and dollars as metrics for success.  I started to notice that for every task I completed, two more would grow back in its place, much like the hydra of Greek mythology.  I also started to notice that every time I fed my tool fetish with another piece of equipment – tractor, bandsaw, welder, vehicle lift, etc. – my anxiety would increase because that was one more thing I needed to store and be responsible for.  I had three shops and a storage unit full of shit and I still wasn’t happy.

I’m thankful because if I hadn’t done all of it, I may still be trying to chase success using external means.  I might still be collecting more junk and working from dark till dark.  I have an entirely new perspective on what success is now.   

I use laughs per day as a measurement of success.  It’s subjective, but I don’t care.  Laughing, joking, and cutting up is fun, and fun is the only way to let my brain know that even when things aren’t OK, it’s OK.

I use presence as a metric for success.  I take care of myself and leave enough energy in the tank to keep the grumpy old codger that lives in my head in check.  I make sure my wife and kids have the safe space necessary to be themselves without fear of rejection or worry I might snap at them.  I’m also quicker to return to the present when I find myself distracted.

I use emotional fitness as a metric for success.  I know I can make it through any hurt or betrayal, so I allow myself to finally be vulnerable.  I have built my emotional resilience so I can enter emotional storms without taking them on or allowing them to shift me off course.  I more fully feel all life has to offer yet I have reduced emotional reactivity at the same time.  My highs are higher and my inevitable lows are quick to pass because I allow them to exist rather than numb myself from experiencing them.   

I use service as a metric for success.  I lost my mechanic business to Hurricane Laura in late 2020.  When we returned from evacuation, the building was in the neighbor’s parking lot. I changed my career to a life coach.  My client successes mean more to me than any personal goal I ever hit.  Standing beside someone while they grow from conquering their own personal challenges is one of the most rewarding things I have ever experienced.     

I use enjoyment of overcoming challenges as a metric for success.  Many of my favorite memories are of going through the challenges of life.  Instead of enjoying and laughing about those challenges after they are over, I try to enjoy them while they are here, because I know they will be great memories later on.  It is necessary to struggle, but if we are always struggling then we are doing it wrong.

Success is less about big achievements, degrees, dollars, cars, houses, or followers – although those things are nice.  These things are barely the start of being successful.  The next level of success is about showing up for the people we love in a way we can be proud of, each and every moment.  It’s about those beautiful memories we create with the people we cherish most.  Success is about doing work that fulfills us and allows for deep, meaningful relationships.

Thanks so much for reading

Until we meet, walk with knowledge wisely

Lee Aaron Smart

Professional Coach

If you are interested in learning more about how we can work together, go to leeasmart.com and book a call.