We all love to believe we’ll rise to the occasion when things go sideways.

That when life hits hard, we’ll suddenly become our best, most capable selves.
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But that’s not how it works.

In a crisis, you don’t rise—you default.
​You fall to the level of your training.

The Stoics knew this. That’s why they trained their minds daily. Not in theory—but in real, uncomfortable practice. So when things got messy (and they always do), they didn’t panic.

Epictetus put it plainly:
​“In times of hardship, we must act according to nature.”

But your nature isn’t fixed. It’s built. Shaped by what you practice.

Let me tell you a story.

A while back, we were at a kids party. My daughters—6 and 9 at the time—were with about 15 other kids. End of the party rolls around, and all of them cram into the elevator to go downstairs.

Then the elevator stops.

You’ve never heard chaos until you’ve heard 15 little girls screaming in a sealed metal box. It was like someone dropped a glitter bomb in a pressure cooker.

The kids were panicking, crying, overheating.

The mums?
Crying.
Shaking.
Total meltdown.
(Respectfully—my wife, my sister, and a few others were emotionally not built for elevator crisis management.)

Now me? I felt the stress, of course. My heart was going. But I didn’t let it take over. I couldn’t.

So I did what I’ve trained myself to do:

• I calmed my breathing.
• Talked the kids down.
• Got on the phone to the elevator company.
• Troubleshooted the panel.
• Opened the doors.

Ten minutes later—done. Everyone safe.

That wasn’t some heroic moment. That was just muscle memory. I’ve trained for chaos.

And not just with elevators.

Business has thrown more fireballs at me than I care to count.​
Cashflow nightmares. Client disasters. Team breakdowns.
Shit has hit the fan a lot.

But I don’t spiral. I step in.

​
Because I’ve practised keeping calm under pressure.

​
I’ve learned to thrive in the corner because I’ve spent enough time in the corner.

That’s what Stoicism is. Not philosophy for the bookshelf.

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It’s reps. Every day. So that when real life throws real problems at you, you don’t freeze—you respond.

You don’t rise to the moment.
You fall to what you’ve built.

Now—before you start picturing me as some unshakable Stoic monk floating through chaos…
Let’s keep it honest.

We’re all human. We’re bound to fuck it up.​
I do. All the time.

I lose my patience. I say things I shouldn’t. I’ve let stress get the better of me over things that, in hindsight, didn’t matter at all.
Sometimes I nail it. Sometimes I don’t.

But that’s the point.
This isn’t about perfection. It’s about practice.
Just showing up and trying to be a little better than yesterday.

That’s all any of us can do.

So—what are you building?
What’s your default when things go wrong?
And how can you train yourself, now, to be better when it really matters?

Reflection: Think about the last time shit hit the fan. Did you handle it well? Or do you still have some training to do?

Hit reply—I’d love to hear your story. And if someone in your world breaks down under pressure, maybe send them this as a gentle nudge.

Until next time,

Broden Johnson