As a kid growing up on a remote cattle ranch in Wyoming, I grew up scrappy. I had to be fast to outrun a charging bull and innovative enough to find a way to saddle a horse so tall that my stirrup came to rest at eye level. I never thought much about well-being and considered the pursuit of happiness a symptom of weak minds and coddled lifestyles.
As a young FBI agent, I leaned into the type of Stoicism that was my birthright — I gritted my teeth and bowed my head to push through obstacles. I learned early to endure hardship without complaint, which worked for a while.
Until it didn’t.
The need for emotional well-being
Years of working long and hard hours left me exhausted and overwhelmed. I snapped at people, spaced out in meetings, and made poor decisions. A job that once energized me left me with a sense of dread as I faced the day.
My stress built to the point where it affected my work and personal relationships. Terms like self-care and well-being made me cringe because that was not how I was raised to deal with problems or adversity. Those terms seemed too indulgent for a serious professional such as myself.
