2,544 days ago (at the publication of this article), I suffered an acute aortic dissection.
My aorta split open from my carotid arteries to the base of my heart. I suffered a stroke on the way to the hospital and was airlifted into emergency surgery, where doctors worked for six hours to replace the entire upper arch of the aorta and save my life.
For periods of time during the surgery, I was clinically dead.
There was no guarantee I would survive. If I did, there was concern I could require long-term care because of the potential neurological damage.
By the grace of God, extraordinary medical care, and what I often call the mission, the medicine, and the miracles surrounding that moment, I woke up with my faculties intact and a second chance at life.
But here’s the truth I’ve wrestled with ever since: The damage was happening long before my heart stopped.
It was happening slowly.
Quietly.
Internally.
And much of it began with pressure, pride, anger, and isolation.
The Hidden Effect of Pressure
One of the least discussed effects of pressure in leadership is isolation.
The heavier the pressure becomes, the harder it becomes for leaders to admit:
- exhaustion,
- uncertainty,
- emotional fatigue,
- frustration,
- disappointment,
- or relational strain.
Many high-performing leaders convince themselves:
“I should be able to handle this.”
“I can push through.”
“I don’t need help.”
I told myself those things repeatedly.
At the time, I was leading communications during one of the largest organizational transformations in the company’s history. A new strategic vision was being rolled out. A major rebrand was underway. Expectations were high. Pressure was constant.
And I was driven to succeed.
But somewhere along the way, pressure stopped being something I managed and started becoming something that managed me. I became increasingly consumed with recognition, advancement, influence, and what I believed leadership owed me in return for my effort. When certain opportunities didn’t materialize, disappointment slowly gave way to resentment.
Resentment became anger.
And anger quietly pushed me into isolation.
Isolation Changes More Than We Realize
What began internally slowly began to affect every part of my life.
I became emotionally withdrawn.
Shorter in my responses.
More frustrated.
Less present.
Less grateful.
Pressure narrowed my perspective until I was interpreting much of life through the lens of disappointment, resentment, and frustration. The damage was spreading long before the medical crisis arrived. And the truth is, I didn’t fully understand how much pressure and isolation had changed me until much later.
Several years after my recovery, my wife and I were sitting at dinner reflecting on everything we had been through and how much life had changed. At one point in the conversation, she looked at me and said something that stopped me in my tracks:
“You’re not angry all the time anymore.”
Then she added: “You’re also not as prideful about some things like you used to be.”
There was no accusation in her voice. No bitterness. Just honesty.
And in that moment, I realized how deeply pressure, resentment, and isolation had shaped me during those years. What humbled me most was recognizing that the people closest to me had also been carrying the weight of my internal struggle.
That realization forced me to confront something painful: At the very same time I was teaching and building frameworks around trust, I was personally ignoring many of the principles I claimed mattered most.
I created The Trust Transformation.
I understood trust intellectually.
I could teach it.
I could explain it.
I could coach others in it.
But internally, I was allowing pride, frustration, insecurity, and resentment to erode the very things I was encouraging others to build. That’s one of the hardest truths I’ve ever had to confront. Because knowledge alone does not protect us from isolation.
Titles don’t protect us. Success doesn’t protect us. Leadership responsibility doesn’t protect us.
Without humility, pressure has a way of quietly distorting us from the inside out.
Research from the Harvard Business Review and organizational psychology studies consistently shows that leaders who lack psychologically safe relationships experience higher levels of decision fatigue, emotional exhaustion, reduced adaptability, and burnout.
I was living it.
Humility Interrupted the Cycle
The turning point in my recovery wasn’t merely physical.
It was humility.
Humility forced me to pause long enough to confront what pressure and isolation had done to me. For years, I believed strength meant carrying things alone. Humility taught me that real strength is being willing to admit when something inside you is breaking.
I had to invite accountability into my life. I had to seek honest conversations. I had to allow people to speak truth into places I had protected with pride.
I had to become teachable again.
And perhaps most importantly, I had to begin reconciling relationships that had been damaged during my isolation.
Some conversations were painful. Some required confession. Some required listening without defending myself. Some required rebuilding trust slowly over time.
That process changed me. It also fundamentally reshaped how I think about leadership.
Despite what many may say about it, humility is strength. Humility disrupts isolation.
It creates space for:
- reflection,
- accountability,
- teachability,
- healing,
- and reconnection.
Jim Collins described Level 5 leaders in Good to Great as leaders who combine fierce resolve with deep humility.
Not ego.
Not self-promotion.
Humility.
The best leaders I’ve encountered are rarely the loudest people in the room.
They are the most grounded. The most teachable. The most relationally aware. The most willing to listen. The most committed to serving the people they lead.
Trust Begins Internally
One of the guiding principles in The Trust Transformation is that we build trust from the inside out. Trust is not simply a cultural value that hangs on the wall. It is an operating system.
Pressure constantly tests the operating system, and specifically, it tests:
- integrity,
- attitude,
- focus,
- communication,
- relationships,
- and emotional discipline.
Research from Great Place to Work® consistently shows that high-trust organizations experience stronger engagement, greater collaboration, increased adaptability, higher retention, and greater resilience during periods of pressure and change. Why? Because trust reduces friction. It creates psychological safety. It improves communication. It strengthens relationships. It allows people to ask for help before pressure becomes a crisis.
That applies personally just as much as organizationally.
The Bracelet
A decade before my health crisis, my daughter made me a bracelet when she was five years old. She proudly handed it to me and asked, “Daddy, will you wear it?”
I told her I would. I wore it all weekend. Then I went back to work Tuesday morning, left it on my dresser, and forgot about it. The next night, she walked into the kitchen holding another bracelet and quietly asked:
“If you didn’t like the other bracelet, will you wear this one?”
That moment humbled me deeply.
There I stood, someone who professionally taught communication, trust, and relationships, and I had just wounded my five-year-old daughter through something I considered small and insignificant. I went back into the bedroom, grabbed the bracelet, put it on, and I still wear it every day for two reasons.
Because I told her I would, and it reminds me that every little thing I say or do either contributes to or takes away from the trust other people have in me.
This was also a lesson in humility. When I make a commitment to someone, it’s not just about me; it’s about both of us. While it may be just one more thing for me, it may be the most important thing for the other person.
Humility helps me see that I need to be intentional and mindful of each seemingly small commitment I make. It’s not about me.
It’s about us.
Pressure is inevitable. Isolation doesn’t have to be.
Humility provides clarity and a willingness to change when it’s necessary.
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