Imagine a gate in a fence that divides a field.

The field and the surrounding landscape paint a picture of all your life experiences: the people you have met, the places you have been and the adventures you have had. All those events that define you as the wonderful, unique person you are.

In my story, in my field, I am one side of the fence. Everyone else I’ve ever met is on the other side, and I’ve often wondered why.

The fence and the gate? There is nothing remarkable about either of them. Neither is imposing or threatening. It is easy to see what is beyond. There are no ‘Keep Out’ signs on the fence or locks on the gate. The fence is not so high that you can’t see over it, it’s not so solid that you can’t see past it. The same goes for the gate, although I suspect the gate will take some effort to push open – it may be stuck as it hasn’t been opened in a while.

The part of my field I’m focusing on right now is the bit that looks at the last 25+ years of my career in leadership development. The people I can see on the other side of the fence are a mix of colleagues, friends, bosses, clients, and delegates. They include some remarkable people from a range of cultures and countries, not to mention organisations and industries. And I have always been curious and fascinated to learn from their stories and experiences.

From where I’m standing, I look across and I pay real attention to those folks who are being extraordinary and achieving remarkable things in their lives. They are being courageous and skillful. They are being creative and imaginative. They are being bold and ambitious. They are being thoughtful and caring. And I can see them doing it all. In some cases, I taught them the skills and techniques to do and be those things.

The question I ask myself is: why do I stay here on my side of the fence in isolation and not push open the gate to be with the crowd? After all, I know about the things they are doing and, I can do some of those things they are doing. But I have realised that I haven’t given myself permission to be any of those things.  Instead, on my side of the fence I choose to be fearful and doubtful and whilst I know I’m missing out it feels, at least, familiar (I’ve been here a long time). I suspect that to others this shows up as apathy, procrastination, a lack of courage, ambition or even intellect. On my side of my fence my internal dialogue is one of being a fraud, a coward, an imposter, unworthy of the company of those talented people I admire. 

My friend and colleague Alistair Skellern wrote recently about the power and value of ‘constructive and positive self-talk’– a topic I’ve also taught for years. In response to Alistair’s article my team-mate, Guy Pollard, shared a quote with us from the American actor Wentworth Miller. He said: ‘If I spoke to my friends like I speak to myself, I wouldn’t have any friends.’ These two ideas really made me stop and think. Reflecting on some of my own self-talk I realise that I’ve slipped into the habit, sometimes, of giving myself a hard time.

On my journey I’ve heard stories about, and have experienced firsthand, organisations that talk a good talk about their culture but behave very differently. By contrast, those businesses that truly live their values are amazing places to be. I think this is why I choose to stand where I do; it’s somehow safer here on my side of the fence. I have learned to observe from a distance and protect myself from the harm caused by false promises and misplaced trust. My reluctance to push through the gate is also grounded in my fear of being hurt in some way.

Over the last two years however, that has all changed and I’ve made a couple of important decisions:

Decision #1

I’m now in a workplace that says and does the same thing. This congruence creates a nurturing, trusting and supportive environment. I’ve noticed my colleagues on the other side of the fence enjoying the benefits of it and, to a person, they have been calling and waving at me to come and join them. I have, at last, finally given myself permission to be safe. Despite sometimes feeling vulnerable and fearful, I feel safe in the knowledge that I am supported by those remarkable colleagues I work with and want to spend time with.

Decision #2

I’m now consciously practicing a more forgiving and positive conversation with myself, especially in those moments of self-doubt. I have to raise my voice sometimes, to break my habitual dialogue, so it is a work-in-progress. So far, so good.

I have at last pushed the gate open. It needed a good shove, as I expected it would. It is scary and exciting in equal measure and I’m looking forward to being a more complete version of myself with my colleagues. 

One final thought. I suspect there are other gates in my metaphorical fence, and I will deal with them when I need to. For now, as with any journey, it’s all about the first few steps.

Just last week I was delivering a Growth Mindset workshop with a colleague, Steve Ellis. As often happens we were posed with a tricky question from a participant, being reasonably green in the world of delivery I was thankful to have a more “seasoned” professional by my (virtual) side who handles the question in what was nothing short of a sublime fashion, being respectful enough as not to offend but considered and direct enough to quash the question and put all responsibility to take action back on to the participant; I was so impressed by the display I even started grinning (hopefully no-one noticed!). After the session we ran through our usual feedback and debrief and I asked “how did you do that?”, his response was simple – “the answer is always in the material”.

This got me thinking, for those of you who know me, earlier this year I found myself in a spot of bother – I was in a critical condition with a double dose of heart and kidney failure – throughout my adult life I have said “make mine a double” on many occasions, however it looked like on this occasion that I had bitten off more than I could chew! Be careful what you wish for is probably the moral of this story. Anyway, several weeks of laying in a hospital bed really got me thinking, before starting at Arcadia I was a “passive” believer in the sentiment that mindset matters. Having previously worked as Personal Trainer and Recruiter I often would espouse the virtues of mindset without really knowing why – it just sounded good and was certainly fashionable and was an in-vogue thing to say.

So I set myself a challenge, now faced with a life or death situation “let’s see if this mindset stuff really works or is it just a load of fanciful guff”. Some of you may have seen the Arcadia Mindset Mondays series on Instagram where we are currently working our way through 10 winning behaviours, so as I sat in my hospital bed, instead of thinking about dialysis and kidney transplants I focused my attention to working my way through the 10 winning behaviours to see if I could employ any strategies that would assist me in my struggle, my breakthrough was astonishing.

Without wanting to turn this into a written workshop, three things really stood out to me;

It’s been nearly a year since I woke up on a Saturday morning with a pain in my left armpit. I had no idea what would happen an hour later.

We had just moved into a new office in Hong Kong and we were delighted that this was a real upgrade on where we were before. We had a few bottles of bubbles, some snacks to celebrate and no doubt some of Tom’s tunes in the background. We all left at a reasonable time and went home.

I am English, a cricket fan and love the fact that our test matches start at 6pm HK local time, which means that late into the night I can watch them play. I dozed off and woke up in the morning on the sofa, with an annoying tension in my armpit. It wasn’t painful, more annoying than anything else; but a constant annoyance, almost like someone pressing a rod or pole under your arm. To this day it’s been hard to exactly describe.

This is the part I am not particularly proud of. I took paracetamol thinking it would go away. After all, I had never experienced this before, so it was hard to compartmentalise as the situation as ‘something to worry about’. After 60 minutes of this ‘annoyance’ I told Paula (my wife) and given there was no obvious ‘heart attack’ dramatics, we didn’t leap to any conclusions. 

However, time was ticking and little did I know that this was actually a countdown clock to whether I lived or died. The annoyance grew to a consistent grip like sensation, which is when I called the local doctor. The advice was immediate….’get to the ER immediately and don’t waste a second!’ It had already been 90 minutes from when I had woken up with the ‘annoyance’ to now. 

My wife drove me to the ER at TKO hospital and waited. Thirty seconds later I was having a check, 60 seconds after that I was being taken to very quickly to have an ECG. I remember lying there with the amazing staff at TKO hospital saying to me that I was in the middle of a heart attack and they need to move me to another hospital for emergency surgery.

From a mindset perspective, it was hard to believe. I was 48 years old, sure liked a few drinks on occasion but generally healthy. How was this happening to me?

‘Clank clank’, the metal sides of the bed got slammed into place and we were off to the transport ambulance to Queen Elizabeth hospital.

I survived as you know, but my story is more about raising awareness to the signs, rather than going into my life now. Ninety minutes was a ridiculous length of time to wait, but I just had no idea that a pain on my left side would be a blockage. 

My advice to anyone now, would be to get to the hospital if you feel anything out of the ordinary from shoulder to shoulder, neck or even back. If the pain is prolonged and doesn’t let up, get there immediately. Don’t listen to your own internal dialogue, as this will be saying “this will pass” or will (like me) cause you to waste precious time! My cardiologist said that an extra 15 minutes and I would have passed away. To be completely honestly, in the last 5 minutes before they operated on me, I could feel myself getting a bit more relaxed, maybe slipping away.

As I was being transported in the ambulance to Queen Elizabeth, with Paula trying to keep up behind in her car, weird thoughts were dominating. Does Paula know all our bank account numbers? Does she have access to investments? Have I got everything sorted so her and the kids can carry on without me? Very rational based. 

But as I was laying there in the ambulance with two doctors standing over me with heart starting paddles, I remember thinking about my kids (they were both out with friends at the time) and the fact that I might not get to say goodbye. The emotional came after the rational.

Anyone reading this, please be aware that at no time was I in any pain. No grabbing of my chest, no falling down; just an ongoing tension to the armpit in my case. 

I was lucky and owe my life to three groups. My wife who ordered me to phone the doctor, the doctors who wasted no time in telling me to get to the hospital. Lastly the amazing staff at TKO and QE Hospital Authority in Hong Kong who saved me. 

Partners and loved ones, don’t trust the narrative of “it’s not that bad” or “I am sure it will pass”. Skip a few steps above and fast track to the ER.

Click here for more detailed heart attack symptoms.