Never waste a good crisis

How to use the worst moments in your life for good

Good Morning,

Last week was, in no uncertain terms, an epic one. Not in the social media sense, where “epic” means beautiful sunsets, perfect productivity, and memorable dinners with friends. No, this was the kind of epic that leaves you slightly shell-shocked, wondering how one weekend could hold so much unravelling. One after another, I received blow after blow: some professional, some personal, all significant. I counted seven moments that, on their own, would have warranted attention. Together, they were suffocating.

There was the financial hit I hadn’t anticipated. The sudden cancellation of a long-term opportunity I’d been nurturing. The unexpected breakdown of a team dynamic I thought was solid. Interpersonal tension emerged in places I’d least expected. A major administrative mistake surfaced. Even a personal spiritual discouragement that I hadn’t properly processed came rushing to the surface. And then, in what felt like the final move in this tragic sequence, I was struck by food poisoning that left me physically depleted. My body could no longer pretend everything was fine. I had to stop. I spent the week vomiting and convulsing in bed.

Yet, it was in that stillness—weak, writhing, foggy-headed—that a strange clarity emerged.

When everything breaks at once, you are given a rare gift. You are invited to see yourself as you truly are, to understand the shape of your mind when there’s nowhere to hide. A crisis, in its rawest form, is a kind of mirror. It reveals what you normally refuse to acknowledge.

1. Clarity and Focus: The hidden gift of crisis

One of the most immediate things I noticed as the events unfolded was how focused I became. I don’t mean focus in the usual sense of productivity hacks or tidy to-do lists. I mean a deep mental pruning, a sharp narrowing of attention that felt involuntary but remarkably useful. The noise of life—the peripheral demands, the endless errands, the performative hustle—all of it fell away. I had no energy to waste on things that didn’t matter. In that fatigue, I saw what did.

Psychologists call this phenomenon “cognitive narrowing” or “cognitive constriction”—a survival response in which your brain filters out distractions to focus on what is immediately important. It’s often perceived as stress. But if you learn to harness it, it becomes one of the most productive mindsets you can access.

In my case, I began to write again. I began to think clearly about what projects mattered. I reached out to only the people who truly know me. I ignored irrelevant metrics and started asking better questions—about my work, about my life, about the kind of man I want to become. Crisis, I found, helps you simplify without shame. You no longer feel guilty saying “no.” You no longer perform for approval. You simply move toward what is essential. It’s amazing how quickly you change in a short space of time.

Photo by Ante Hamersmit on Unsplash

There is a maturity available in crisis that peace does not offer. If we can learn to pay attention in those moments—not to panic, not to rush, but to pay attention—we might find clarity that we’ve been seeking for years.

2. Crisis as Reckoning: Facing what you’ve avoided