The Art of Staying Calm While Losing Your Mind
A phrase I tend to hear alot:
“You’re always calm when things go bad.”
On the surface, it was true. Back then, though, I didn’t take it as a compliment. I took it as a quiet accusation, like she had missed something important about me, or worse, that I had done too good a job hiding what was happening beneath the surface.
Imagine you’re in the middle of chaos. A business deal is falling apart, systems are crashing, life is blindsiding you, but your face stays neutral and collected.
And maybe, just maybe, you even laugh about it. You crack a joke, turning the disaster into something mildly entertaining for whoever’s around. It’s a reaction many people mistake for strength.
But over time, you start to realize it’s a double-edged sword.
Because while your exterior might project calm, inside your head, you’re barely holding it together.
A Weekend Lesson in Disconnection
This past weekend, something happened that brought this pattern into sharp focus.
My Starlink dish, the one powering my work, my systems, my lifeline to the digital world, fell off the roof and cracked.
Expensive hardware destroyed. Unplanned expenses. Potential downtime. A series of problems compounding on top of each other.
To most people, this would be an understandably frustrating situation.
But me? I barely reacted.
I looked at it, acknowledged the situation in a matter-of-fact way, and thought, “I guess I’ll need to replace that.”
That was it.
No visible frustration. No complaining. No pacing around. Just a clean acceptance of reality.
At first glance, it seemed like emotional maturity.
“I just have bigger things to worry about. These things happen.”
But when I reflected on it later, I realized it was something else entirely.
What had actually happened was that I dissociated.
The Pattern, the Realization, the Theory
It’s a mechanism I’ve leaned on for years, disconnecting from overwhelming emotions by numbing myself to them.
And while it has benefits in keeping me composed under pressure, it also means I’m not always addressing what’s going on inside.
Those suppressed emotions don’t just disappear.
They linger.
They fester.
And left unchecked, they find other outlets.
That’s exactly what happened over the weekend.
I found myself unconsciously slipping into old habits, chasing distractions and self-soothing in ways I thought I had outgrown.
And the kicker is, from the outside, it still looked like I was calm and in control.
But really, it was a subtle sign that something wasn’t quite right.
Calmness Isn’t Always Control
Sometimes it’s a well-practiced mask.
Sometimes it’s strategic detachment.
Sometimes it’s unprocessed pain.
And while it can be useful, especially in high-pressure environments like startups, venture capital negotiations, and product launches, it’s also important to recognize when it becomes a liability.
When calmness turns into apathy.
When control turns into numbness.
When composure becomes an excuse not to feel.
I think a lot of high-functioning, driven people fall into this trap.
We tell ourselves it’s strength not to break down when things go wrong.
We convince ourselves that being the calm one is a badge of honor.
And in some ways, it is.
But it’s also a responsibility.
Because suppressed emotions don’t disappear. They resurface elsewhere.
In old habits.
In disconnection.
In burnout.
A New Kind of Reflection
This entire experience turned out to be a moment of quiet clarity about how I navigate stress, how I’ve been conditioned to respond, and how important it is to check in with myself beyond the surface.
I’m learning now to sit with those moments a little longer.
To ask myself:
- Am I truly calm, or am I dissociating?
- Am I moving forward deliberately, or just numbly going through the motions?
- Am I self-soothing in healthy ways, or retreating into old comforts?
The answers aren’t always pretty, but they’re necessary.
And as much as I wish I could recommend this kind of self-reflection to everyone, I also know it’s not for everyone.
It’s heavy.
It requires confronting parts of yourself you’ve buried for years.
But if you’re in a space where you feel ready, or even if you just feel the cracks forming beneath your calm, I hope you give yourself the chance to look inward.
You might be surprised what you find.
Postscript: A Small, Unexpected Win
One week later, I received a message that a replacement Starlink dish was being shipped to me from Lagos.
No lengthy wait, no international shipping drama.
It wasn’t technically covered under warranty, but they still sent me a new one at no extra cost.
And in a region where even the monthly subscription isn’t accessible to most, let alone the kit itself, this was an unexpected act of goodwill.
Looking back on the weekend’s frustration, it feels like a gift. I got the chance to examine my own response to adversity in real time.
Two months from now, when this is a distant memory, what will matter isn’t that it happened, but how I responded to it, what I learned, and what changed in me because of it.
That’s the real advantage of staying present.
Observing, reflecting, and intentionally designing the life you want to live, instead of constantly reacting to what life throws at you.
Final Thoughts
It’s a beautiful thing to stay calm when the world gets loud, but don’t mistake still waters for peace.
Pay attention to yourself in those quiet moments after the storm.
Not just how you look, but how you feel.
Because real resilience isn’t about appearing unshaken. It’s about making sure what’s beneath the surface is steady too.
Wow, this reads like a very good LinkedIn post.
But I swore I wouldn’t join the cringe fest over there.