Five years ago, my life collapsed. After a decade together, I was discarded by my partner. In one moment, I lost not only the relationship, but also the off-grid lifestyle we had built and the sense of safety it gave me. Overnight, my former best friend became my worst enemy. And just as I was trying to find my footing, Covid lockdowns shut down my work with clients. It felt like everything I had built was gone.
I woke each morning with my heart pounding, scanning for the next disaster. I didn’t need anyone to tell me to “stay positive.” Sugarcoating a storm doesn’t stop the rain. What I needed was something sturdier; an anchor.
What I found was an ancient philosophy that has carried people through wars, plagues, and heartbreak for over 2,000 years. Within weeks of practicing it, I wasn’t just surviving: I was steering my own ship again.
The Philosophy That Turns Chaos into Clarity
That philosophy was Stoicism: born in the marketplaces of ancient Greece, refined in the courts of Roman emperors. Its central truth is disarmingly simple:
You can’t control what happens. You can only control your response.
To the Stoics, life is a constant negotiation with uncertainty. You don’t get to choose the weather, but you can choose how you sail.
The Invisible Line
When I was in crisis, everything felt urgent, personal, and overwhelming. Stoicism drew a crucial line in the sand:
• Within my control: my thoughts, actions, choices, values.
• Beyond my control: other people’s behaviour, the past, the economy, the twists of fate.
That mental boundary was powerful. It didn’t erase my grief, but it stopped me from feeding my despair.
My Crash Course in Stoicism
I didn’t come to Stoicism from a philosophy class. I stumbled into it in the middle of wreckage: discarded by my partner, cut off from the off-grid life we had built, and unable to see clients because of Covid lockdowns.
Most mornings I woke with my heart pounding, braced for more loss. That’s when I came across Epictetus, a former slave turned philosopher, who wrote:
“Men are disturbed not by things, but by the view they take of them.”
That sentence hit me like lightning. If my suffering came as much from my interpretation as from the events themselves… maybe I could begin to rewrite the story.
Here’s what it looked like in practice; imperfect at first, but life-saving:
1. Morning triage – Writing down every fear: being alone, losing income, never feeling safe again. Then circling only what I could influence that day.
2. Negative rehearsal – Imagining worst-case scenarios (clients never returning, never finding trust again) so I could face those fears in advance instead of being crushed if they came.
3. Evening honesty check – Asking: Did I act today from fear, or from my values?
The result? Life didn’t stop throwing storms at me. But instead of being tossed like driftwood, I began to steady the tiller. I could steer again.
Why It Matters Now
We live in an era of overreaction. News headlines, social media outrage, and personal crises tug at us daily. Stoicism isn’t about being numb: it’s about being anchored.
When upheaval comes – and it will – try this:
- Stop.
- Name what’s yours to control.
- Let go of the rest.
It’s simple. It’s ancient. And it’s the difference between capsizing and staying steady at the helm.
Stoicism isn’t a dusty relic from another age; it’s a living, breathing survival tool. Marcus Aurelius had plagues and invasions. We have pandemics, layoffs, and heartbreak. The circumstances change. The human struggle doesn’t.
And the advice still holds:
“You cannot control the storm. But you can adjust your sails.”