I Was One Long Walk Away From a Coronary

I couldn’t fish. I could barely breathe. But something deeper began that day.

Mister 13 is the active kid that every lazy old dad needs.

You know the kind, the kid who refuses to let you sit on the couch, work too much, or give in to the sedentary life.

A year ago, he was begging me to take him fishing.

I hate fishing, but I love my son. So when he asks to fish, I usually take him.

This day would be different, though…

I’d been living a lie for a while.

No one knew, because I kept showing up, posting online, growing the business… projecting a version of Geoff to the world that was healthy.

But I had stopped taking care of myself some time ago.

Perhaps all parents do it?
Maybe it’s the empath in me, the one who tends to put others first?
Or had I surrounded myself with too many people who were takers? Not enough givers?

Probably a combination of all three.

It was the walk across the rocks to the fishing site that almost killed me.

Small slippery boulders.
Weak legs that were not conditioned to walk.
It was only 300 yards, but by the time we got there, I was red-faced, panting like an overweight Labrador in a heat wave, one long walk away from a coronary.

I couldn’t fish. I sat on a big grey rock while Mister 13 threw out his line and reeled them in.

I felt a lot of shame sitting on that rock. And I allowed myself to feel it fot the first time. There could be no more pretending.

It was my “F*ck No” moment.

The moment when a human being looks at their circumstances and says:
“This is not acceptable. It has to change.”

I wonder what is not acceptable for you any longer, as you read this post?

I’d encourage you to sit on your own grey rock and embrace the moment. Feel the feelings and commit to changing.

Your moment could be related to:

• Your health

• An addiction

• A toxic relationship

• A continual struggle

• Some kind of poor thinking

• A job that is not suitable for you

• Showing up in the world less than fully alive

These are beautiful realizations that force you to grow

I am not the same man who sat on that rock. I have rebuilt everything and I am continuing to do so.

I value myself now, and I refuse to ever fall prey to the schemes of the worthless devil ever again.

You are your engine.
You deserve the very best fuel.
And I want nothing but the best for you.

Much love
G. x

P.S.: If you’ve had a rock moment lately, one of those “Fck No”* moments where something deep inside you says “this has to change”,
then I would love to help.

At the end of June, I’m running a private session for paid members of Sphere.

We’ll sit down together (virtually) and work through how to:

✅ Grow your Substack with intention and momentum
✅ Align your writing with your mission and business
✅ Rebuild your strategy from a place of energy, not exhaustion

This isn’t just about tactics. It’s about building something that fuels you instead of drains you.

If you’re already a paid member, you’ll get the invite soon.
If not, you can join below. This is your moment.

Much love and big dreams to you.