Series: The Flight I Never Boarded

What a medical emergency taught me about presence, capacity, and the life we slowly accept as normal.

Before I ever lost consciousness in the Jacksonville airport terminal, there were already warnings. I just had several good explanations for them. That is the part I keep thinking about. I did not ignore the symptoms because I was being reckless in some dramatic movie version of denial. I ignored them because I could explain them. I had been sick for several days with what I assumed was a cold or virus. I had some diarrhea. I had eaten very little. I was traveling. I had adjusted a few medications, in consultation with my cardiologist, because I had been getting dizzy. I was under pressure to get to Vegas because I was scheduled to present two workshops I had worked on for months. The symptoms were scary, but the explanations were reasonable enough to keep me moving. That is what made them dangerous.

The Story Was Reasonable

When I felt lightheaded, there was a story available. When I felt weak, there was a story available. When I stood up and felt unsteady, there was a story available. When the grocery-store blood pressure machine showed my pulse frighteningly low, there was still a story available. Maybe the machine was wrong. Maybe I was dehydrated. Maybe I needed food. Maybe it was the medication. Maybe it was the virus. Maybe it was travel stress. Maybe I just needed an electrolyte drink and a minute to pull myself together. A believable story can be very comforting when reality is trying to interrupt your plan.

Those explanations were not stupid. I want to be clear about that because this is where we can oversimplify the lesson and pretend the answer was obvious. It did not feel obvious at first. I probably was dehydrated. I probably did need food. The sickness probably was affecting me. Medication questions probably did complicate the picture. Those things were real. They just were not the whole truth. Sometimes the danger is not that our explanation is false; sometimes the danger is that it is only partly true.

Underneath all of those explanations, my heart’s electrical system was failing to communicate correctly. By the time I was in the hospital, my pulse was dropping into the 20s and 30s.

That is not a “walk it off” situation.

That is not a “push through” situation.

That is not a “you’ve got this” situation.

That is your body giving you information that needs to outrank your itinerary.

When the Plan Starts Arguing With Reality

I was trying to get to Vegas. That mattered to me. I had worked on those presentations since November. I had built the workbook, refined the material, created resources, and thought carefully about how I wanted to help people. This was not some random weekend trip where I was hoping to wander around with a buffet plate and make questionable financial decisions at a slot machine. This was work I cared about. The plan had emotional weight, and that made it harder to let reality win.

That is one of the quiet dangers of being responsible. We can become very committed to doing what we said we would do, even when new information should change the decision. We call it dedication. We call it follow-through. We call it not wanting to disappoint people. Sometimes that is noble. Sometimes it is just fear wearing a work ethic costume. Responsibility is a gift until it starts arguing with reality.

And reality was not whispering anymore. My body had moved from suggestion to announcement. Low pulse. Lightheadedness. Blacking-out sensations. Cold and clammy. Fainting. These were not minor inconveniences. But because I could still attach each symptom to a possible explanation, I could keep telling myself the story was manageable. The plan kept trying to negotiate with information that did not need negotiation.

What is the Story YOU Use to Keep Going?

Most of us have some version of this. Maybe not medically. Maybe your pulse is fine, and I sincerely hope it is. But we all have places where we use believable explanations to avoid responding to reality. We say the business is just in a busy season. The marriage is just under stress. The anxiety is just how we are wired. The exhaustion is just part of success. The resentment is just because people need too much from us. The lack of joy is just a phase. The body tension is just age. The spiritual dryness is just because life is full right now. Those stories may contain truth, but they may not be the truth that needs your attention.

I work with a lot of high-functioning people, and high-functioning people are often excellent at building reasonable explanations. That is part of how we keep going. We analyze. We justify. We organize. We compensate. We adjust. We reframe. We carry more than people realize. Sometimes that ability is a gift. Sometimes it becomes the exact skill that keeps us from stopping soon enough. High-functioning people can become very skilled at explaining why they are not okay.

That applies to business too. A business owner can tell themselves they are just in a growth phase when they are actually losing their health, their peace, their family connection, and their capacity to enjoy the life the business was supposed to support. A counselor, coach, practitioner, or helper can tell themselves they are just serving people when they are actually building a life with no margin. A driven person can call everything opportunity while their calendar is quietly screaming for mercy. Success can become a socially acceptable way to ignore yourself.

I do not say that as someone above it. Clearly. I was trying to make a flight with a heart rate that eventually dropped into the 20s. So please do not hear this as a lecture from the mountain. This is more like a report from the terminal floor.

The Body Keeps Telling the Truth

The body is not always subtle, but it often starts subtle. A little fatigue. A little tension. A little shortness of breath. A little dizziness. A little stomach trouble. A little headache. A little chest pressure. A little insomnia. A little dread when the calendar opens. At first, we notice. Then we explain. Then we adjust. Then we normalize. The body may start with a whisper, but it will eventually find a louder language.

This is true beyond the body. Your marriage can keep telling the truth. Your business can keep telling the truth. Your anxiety can keep telling the truth. Your anger can keep telling the truth. Your resentment can keep telling the truth. Your lack of joy can keep telling the truth. Your calendar can keep telling the truth. Your bank account can keep telling the truth. Your soul can keep telling the truth. Reality has many messengers, and we do not get healthier by shooting all of them.

For me, reality got loud in the airport terminal. Cold. Clammy. Lightheaded. Fainting. Flights canceled. Emergency room. Heart block. Life Flight. Temporary pacemaker. Permanent pacemaker.

That is a lot of reality. And still, some part of me was emotionally catching up. I had spent so much energy trying to get to Vegas that it took a while to understand the actual story had changed. The question was no longer, “Can I still make my flight?” The question was, “Can my heart safely keep me alive without help?” Sometimes the question changes before we are emotionally ready to ask it.

Peace Requires Perception

One of the things the PEACE Path teaches is the importance of perceiving what is real. That sounds simple until reality threatens a plan you care about. It is easy to perceive reality when it costs you nothing. It is much harder when reality means canceling the trip, disappointing people, asking for help, changing direction, admitting weakness, or facing something you have been minimizing for a long time. Peace begins when we stop arguing with what is already true.

That is not passive. That is not weak. That is not giving up. It takes a certain kind of courage to stop, look at the facts, and let them matter. It takes courage to say, “I wanted this plan, but this information changes things.” It takes courage to say, “I have been explaining this away long enough.” It takes courage to say, “I need help.” Acceptance is not surrendering your life; it is surrendering the illusion that denial will protect it.

This is where a lot of people get stuck. We do not want reality. We want reality to negotiate with our preference. We want symptoms to wait until after the conference. We want exhaustion to wait until after the launch. We want grief to wait until after the holidays. We want our marriage to wait until business stabilizes. We want our body to wait until the calendar clears. We want peace, but we want it after everything else gets its turn. Reality is rarely impressed by our scheduling preferences.

The Sedation of “I’m Fine”

“I’m fine” can be useful. Sometimes it means, “I am steady enough to keep going.” Sometimes it means, “I do not need to process this with everyone in the grocery store.” Sometimes it means, “I am choosing not to fall apart right now.” Fair enough. I am a fan of not turning every checkout line into a group therapy session.

But “I’m fine” can also become a hiding place.

It can mean, “I do not want to look at this.”

It can mean, “I know something is wrong, but I do not want the disruption.”

It can mean, “I am afraid if I stop, everything I have been holding together will fall apart.”

It can mean, “I am so used to reduced capacity that I no longer recognize it as reduced.”

That last one has been ringing loudly for me. I had become used to lightheadedness. I had become used to standing carefully. I had become used to less energy. I had become used to a smaller physical life. I had a story for all of it. Age. Stress. Medications. Being sick. Being busy. Blood pressure. Less gym time. Still hot, obviously, but less gym time. I had "made peace" with something that was not actually peace.

Business Owners Are Especially Good at This

If you own a business, lead people, serve clients, create programs, manage a practice, or carry the emotional weight of being the responsible one, you may be especially good at explaining away warning signs. You may know how to keep the machine running. You may know how to produce under pressure. You may know how to make it look fine from the outside. You may even receive praise for the very patterns that are draining you. The world will often applaud your over-functioning before it ever asks if you are okay.

That is why this matters for business. The warning signs rarely arrive as a formal announcement. They show up as foggy thinking, irritability, avoidance, resentment, missed details, loss of creativity, decision fatigue, inconsistent follow-through, overpromising, under-resting, and a growing sense that the thing you built is starting to own you. You may still be succeeding. You may still be making money. You may still be helping people. A business can be working while the person running it is wearing down.

This is where leadership needs peace. Not fake calm. Not branding. Not pretending everything is fine because people are watching. Real peace. The kind that lets you perceive reality earlier, protect capacity sooner, make clearer decisions, and stop using crisis as the only permission slip for change. You do not have to wait until the system collapses before you are allowed to adjust it.

The Question That Has Teeth

So now I am asking myself a different question: where have I been using a reasonable story to delay an honest response?

That question has teeth.

It can apply anywhere. Health. Work. Faith. Family. Money. Marriage. Parenting. Aging. Grief. Calling. Identity. The details change, but the pattern is familiar. Something begins speaking softly. We explain it. It speaks louder. We manage it. It starts affecting our capacity. We normalize it. Then one day, the cost becomes harder to ignore. I would rather learn to listen before life has to shout.

That does not mean every discomfort is an emergency. I am not trying to turn all of us into people who diagnose ourselves every time we blink weird. Please do not read this and decide your left elbow has a spiritual message about your business model. Maybe it does, but let us be reasonable. The point is not panic. The point is honesty. Not every signal is a crisis, but every recurring signal deserves respect.

That is the invitation of this second blog in the series. Look at the story you keep telling yourself. Look at the explanation that lets you keep going. Look at the place where you may be calling survival “normal.” Then ask whether that story is helping you respond to reality or helping you avoid it. The story that comforts you may also be the story that confines you.

The PEACE Path Connection

That is part of what the PEACE Path is about. It is not just about feeling calm. It is about learning to pause long enough to perceive what is real, accept what cannot be changed, choose what can be done next, and embody peace in a way that actually changes how we live. Peace is not passive. Peace tells the truth before life has to force the truth.

If this stirs something in you about what you have explained away, pushed through, or quietly normalized, that is the kind of work I help people do in the PEACE Path. Contact me and let’s talk about what it would look like to move forward with more peace, clarity, and capacity.

The Flight I Never Boarded Series

1. The Flight I Never Boarded
   www.caseycolecorbin.com/blog/flight-i-never-boarded

2. A Pulse of 20 and the Stories We Tell Ourselves
   www.caseycolecorbin.com/blog/pulse-of-20

3. When Abnormal Becomes Normal
   www.caseycolecorbin.com/blog/when-abnormal-becomes-normal

4. Near Death, but Not Afraid
   www.caseycolecorbin.com/blog/near-death-not-afraid

5. The Talk I Didn’t Give
   www.caseycolecorbin.com/blog/the-talk-i-didnt-give

6. Becoming a Cyborg
   www.caseycolecorbin.com/blog/becoming-a-cyborg

7. What Survival Is For
   www.caseycolecorbin.com/blog/what-survival-is-for

Hit REPLY and let's chat!

-Casey