“What they don’t know is I am about to die…”
I still vividly remember the client and the meeting room.
I was sitting there, trying to convince them of the merits of my nascent company, NGS, but the room was spinning like a washing machine. Their faces were a blur. I felt like I was burning up, and it took every ounce of my remaining mental strength not to flee the room; this was my normal.
This was the daily challenge I faced.
The moment the meeting ended, I had to go and lie down on the floor in the disabled toilet, pressing my face against the cold linoleum; this was my normal.
After work, I’d come home exhausted, go straight to bed in my clothes, wake up when my alarm rang, get undressed, shower, get dressed again, and head back to work; this was my normal.
I couldn’t take the tube—and still can’t.
Many times I wondered: is this really my new normal?
Would it ever change? Could it ever change?
As with everything in life, you get out what you put in. I had a great upbringing and consider myself very lucky.
While I was in the military and deployed operationally, my PTSD, perhaps surprisingly, stemmed from family tragedy.
I always admired my father. He was a strong man, full of life and energy—a real businessman, a great father, and a fabulous role model. His untimely death, while on holiday in Egypt, was my trigger. At the time, I had to take three flights, totalling 25 hours, to reach my mother, only to find out that the insurance company wouldn’t help and had denied the claim. This wasn’t the reason I set up NGS (although it came shortly after), but I had to coordinate my father’s repatriation single-handedly while suppressing all emotions; eventually, they all came flooding out… stuck on the tube, on a sweltering summer’s day.
Losing a parent is naturally a terrible thing. It leaves you feeling vulnerable and consumed by indescribable emotions that linger for a very long time—even to this day.
But PTSD? Me? Surely not.
That’s something you get from being exposed to horrific events, isn’t it? So, what is losing a parent?
The first few months of setting up a company weren’t the hardest—it hit me sometime later. With the stress of ownership, responsibility, and financial worry, how was I supposed to manage this burden?
Building NGS was certainly part of the healing process. We found our ideal office, gathered our investors, hired our first staff, won our first contract, and handled our first operation perfectly (a repatriation of mortal remains from Sierra Leone). That put NGS on the map for international emergency assistance companies. This gave me the impetus to keep building, day by day, step by step.
From my experience, facing the issue head-on each day made things easier—though only in tiny increments. You start to realise that adversity should not take over your life, and with some balance, you’re mentally stronger than you think.
I never considered suicide—nor do I judge those who do. However, many times I questioned why I was like this and how I could live my life in such a way. What a waste.
The point of my story is twofold.
First, turning negativity into something positive is vitally important. You can’t do it alone, so don’t be afraid to ask for help.
Second, you have no control over the past, so don’t let it govern you. You can change your future direction at any time. Follow your dreams and be proud of your achievements.
Be someone.
