Intro: The Myth of the Strong One
I used to think resilience looked like a warrior—stoic, unshakable, always in control. As a senior executive in the insurance industry for over 35 years, I lived by that image. I built and led customer-focused teams, made decisions under pressure, and prided myself on being the calm in the storm.
In my personal life, I’ve been a husband of almost 30 years to a saint of a woman—my partner, my anchor, my greatest encourager. She has been the steady force behind my career and the unwavering presence in every season of our marriage. If strength was part of my identity, her love and patience were part of my foundation. Together we raised two young men who I am incredibly proud of and who have grown into people I deeply admire. They bring me joy not just because of what they’ve accomplished, but because of who they are—their values, their beliefs, their morals. In many ways, they became living proof that what matters most in life isn’t titles or achievements, but the kind of people we raise and the kind of legacy we leave behind.
Resilience at home meant putting the business first—always. It meant encouraging my children to “take one on the chin” when choosing business over my personal life. It meant missing birthday parties, anniversaries, and family milestones because duty called. I believed that true strength was measured by sacrifice, and it demanded unwavering commitment—even when it came at a personal cost.
And for as long as I can remember, I’ve thought of myself as an athlete—strong, agile, competitive. I relished testing myself, pushing limits, and relying on discipline to carry me through. Athletic resilience meant using grit to power forward, no matter what stood in the way.
At home, at work, and within myself, the pattern was the same: strength was something you showed, toughness was something you proved, and resilience was something you performed. It was the myth I lived by—until cancer shattered it. For the first time, I was faced with a storm I couldn’t outmaneuver.
What I discovered was that I didn’t truly know what resilience meant, but on my journey through the storm, I came to understand it in an entirely new way. And if I learned something new about resilience, maybe I had something new to learn about leadership, too.
I felt called to share the story of my journey for two reasons. The first is to share what it takes to keep showing up—especially when you don’t feel strong. The small, often invisible acts of courage that build a life worth living, even in the face of uncertainty.
If you’re facing something hard—illness, loss, burnout, the weight of leadership, or just being human—I hope this story reminds you that strength doesn’t always roar. Sometimes, it whispers, “Try again tomorrow.”
And for me, there’s a second reason to share this: to show how this journey reshaped me, not only as an individual, but as a leader. Debunking the myth of “the strong one” revealed new, more powerful ways to lead, to listen, and to support others.
