by Jason Fox
I remember being part of an exercise where different parts of the armed forces had been positioned all over the country and abroad. Units were located across the UK. The exercise represented a mock mission that was focused on readying us for a terrorist attack. There were eyes on a ‘dummy’ hostile cell, with a bunch of young Royal Marines playing the enemy. We attacked their base in a drill and my group was then airlifted by helicopter and flown to re-deploy to react to intelligence gleaned from the ‘enemy’ base. From there we were deliberately pulled from pillar to post: I was part of a group that boarded a Hercules transport plane and flew to another airbase where we had two hours to ditch our scrapping gear for jumping kit. Once we were back on the Herc, we were flown to the coast where we parachuted into the sea before being picked up by a ship and taken to the north of the country. A massive night assault on an island base completed the exercise. The number of moving parts involved was ridiculous, but it provided vital preparation for what was to come in my career, and throughout life generally, where spinning plates and dealing with ever-changing environments and adversaries was a constant challenge.
The rhythm of war had been just as unpredictable. Some days I’d be fast-roping on to a terrorist base; on other occasions I’d find myself walking into a town or village in search of a hostile leader. With every new challenge I’d had to be mentally up for the scrap – I’d had to be comfortable in feeling uncomfortable – so I decided that the negative emotions of handling a major life-change, of the type I was experiencing as a former military veteran in therapy and looking for a new ‘why’, was no different from any unpleasant moment I’d endured in war or in training. The process of getting up and moving forward as I searched for a new purpose wasn’t that much of an emotional shift from, say, taking off my dry kit after a night in the jungle (we wore only dry clothes in our bunks) and climbing into my stinking, soaking-wet kit for another day of running around in the heat and humidity.
My first movements to finding a new purpose were slow, but steady. I understood that if I were to reclaim my resilience, I’d need to get back to my old self. I had to find authenticity, and I could only do that by focusing on a fresh objective. With some help I tried to locate a new avenue of work that would give me a similar level of purpose as my old role in the military. One ambition involved me working outdoors in a job where I was able to push myself to the absolute physical limit. The other involved me helping people that had found themselves in a similar set of circumstances to mine.
Over several months, I listened to my gut. I then landed a role rigging up safety lines for a Comic Relief event. That led to a diving job in Madagascar with a film crew, which utilized the skills I’d picked up as a Royal Marine. Having made my own luck by pushing myself in a direction where I was able to thrive, I was approached to appear on the Channel Four show SAS: Who Dares Wins, where I could operate in a challenging environment with three other former elite soldiers, sharing a camaraderie similar to the one I had been used to in the military. The show, which featured former operators Matthew ‘Ollie’ Ollerton, Ant Middleton and, later, Mark ‘Billy’ Billingham, pushed civilians into some of the challenges forced upon soldiers hoping to make it through Selection and into the Special Forces.
Those new roles gave me my spark, my new passion. I had made it back to Angela Duckworth’s step one.
Now that I had a purpose – to help those who were in a similar position to the one I’d been in; to work outdoors, pushing myself to my mental and physical limits – I found confidence and a renewed sense of well-being. I watched other former military lads succeeding in new roles and I became stronger. I was able to challenge myself in new ways by planning expeditions and setting goals that used all the skills I’d learned in the military and allowed me to exercise my passion for adventure. In 2016 I rowed across the Atlantic with Team Essence, a five-man crew comprising former Royal Marine snipers Aldo Kane and Ross Johnson, Royal Air Force copper Mathew Bennett, a mutual friend, Oliver Bailey, and myself in a world-record-setting adventure in which we achieved the fastest unsupported row across the Atlantic, making it from Portugal to Venezuela in fifty days, ten hours and thirty-six minutes. Once that was done, in 2018 I skied across the North Pole for charity.
Those trips weren’t only about personal glory, though. They also represented Angela Duckworth’s second step: Having watched the people working around me, on the expeditions and on SAS: Who Dares Wins, I wanted to know if I could achieve results, and help others, through my passion. Through sponsorship drives I raised cash for charities I felt very closely linked to, such as those dealing with the issues of male mental health. Following my experience of PTSD, I realized that helping other lads in a similar mess to the one I’d found myself in was something I wanted to explore further. If I managed to successfully combine that work with an outdoor activity, then I’d find a similar sense of purpose to the one delivered by the military. Of course, the stakes weren’t nearly as high, but the rewards and sense of well-being would come close. With a mate of mine, Jamie Sanderson – another former Royal Marines sniper who’d also had his life torn to shreds by PTSD – I set up a community interest company called Rock2Recovery. Our aim: to help trauma-ravaged veterans and their families to find suitable therapists and alternative treatments for some of the psychological wounds caused by conflict and high-stress situations.
In a way, I was creating exactly the type of therapeutic space I’d been crying out for when my own life was falling apart. Duckworth’s step three: Suddenly my achievable accomplishments were making a difference in the wider world again. One of the very first things Rock2Recovery did when meeting with new faces at our walk-in clinics was to discuss purpose. We talked about finding exciting new challenges for people. These might have been experiences that got the adrenaline racing while delivering a physically and emotionally rewarding response, and some lads I spoke to went on to raise money for charity by running marathons, climbing mountain ranges and cycling amazing distances. We also encouraged people to find a creative outlet in which they could heal themselves. Jamie had become a songwriter and I went on to make TV shows and documentaries; I also wrote the book Battle Scars, detailing my experiences with PTSD.
Whenever I’ve been able to, I’ve encouraged former military personnel with mental health issues to think about the route I’ve taken because I am living evidence that locating a new sense of purpose is the first step in pushing the body and mind into places that might previously have seemed impossible. Because without purpose, the battle is already lost. In life we sometimes have to endure situations where unexpected change is thrust upon us and we’re forced to find a new purpose. Our partner leaves, we lose our job, illness or injury affects our ability to perform a function we loved. The key to surviving those devastating events in the long term is to unlock a new ‘why’ in the three steps outlined by Angela Duckworth, steps that are applicable to everyone:
1) What is it that makes you truly happy?
2) How have other people achieved success by using that same process, skill or passion?
3) In what way can your work in this new field achieve results in the wider world?
OPERATIONAL DEBRIEF
❱❱ Purpose is rocket fuel. No matter the challenge ahead, if a sense of importance is attached to the task, any action that takes a person nearer to completing their goal will come with extra motivation. A slog of endless nights in the office is made so much easier if the carrot of promotion is being waved or if the work feels really worthwhile. If those honking sessions of cardio in the gym are needed to prevent a serious health issue, or to achieve a specific goal, finding the motivation required to step on to the treadmill suddenly isn’t so difficult. It can work on a purely emotional level too: somebody living through a family tragedy can be strengthened by the knowledge that their staying strong during incredibly challenging circumstances will help the other people around them.
❱❱ Find your spark. What do you love? A creative passion, physical
activity, charitable endeavours, a business idea or team objectives are all good jumping-off points.
❱❱ Once you have your spark, find ways in which it might achieve results elsewhere. The person using fitness to overcome a serious health issue could use their new-found skills to help their friends to train. The head chef from a failed restaurant might note the mistakes made by their bosses and open a business of their own, making sure to avoid the pitfalls that trapped their former employers.
❱❱ Try to make your achievements count in ‘the wider world’. Once you’ve achieved that, you’ve found your reason for getting out of bed in the morning.
SITUATIONAL AWARENESS
HOW TO SURVIVE CHANGE
Some of what we’re talking about in this book requires a reframing of thought; to look at a negative or challenging situation in a different light or, in other words, to put a positive spin on an unfolding shitshow. And nowhere is this more applicable than during the tricky process of finding purpose, because this can feel completely overwhelming at times.
By working through therapy, I learned a lesson we could all benefit from: when striving to find a new purpose, it’s so important to let go of the old. I didn’t chuck my past life away completely. I remembered the mistakes that later became other lessons; I enjoyed talking about the accomplishments and experiences that my time in the military had given me; I felt pride in my old purpose. But I realized it was vital to accept the inevitability of something coming to an end, because whether I liked it or not, nothing lasts for ever. We grow older. We retire. People we love come and go. Our priorities change. Jobs we once enjoyed finish or become irrelevant. When we hit a certain age, we can’t play sport or exercise in the way we’d like. To realize that change is unavoidable is a first step in rediscovering purpose during tough times.
Acceptance makes us resilient, but clinging on to the past is self-destructive. I’ve since seen it in some of the military types I used to work with – retired soldiers mourning for a job they once loved. We all get together every now and then, and the lads who are struggling are easy to spot: they’re the ones that haven’t accepted that their fighting days have come to an end. All they want to do is talk about the past. They’ll look on their time in some pretty ugly situations with fondness and everything they experienced is viewed through rose-tinted glasses. Then they’ll make out that the modern military life is ‘shit’. Usually, these meet-ups take place in a boozer decorated with war memorabilia, plaques and old photos. It can be bloody depressing.
That type of attitude can be found in just about every walk of life. Sports stars hanging up their kit have a tough time accepting that their identities are changed for good. They miss their old teammates or coaches, even the ones they didn’t like that much. Like people in the military, their new day-to-day routines become unrecognizable. The thrill of competition and self-improvement vanishes overnight. Without acceptance, they can struggle to find a new purpose. Without purpose, life can sometimes seem pretty stale. Swap the job titles around and you’ll find the same problem everywhere: city workers, business owners, property developers, creatives, people in the emergency services, chefs, even therapists … The list is endless, but the problem remains the same. Pining for the good old days makes it impossible to move forward.
Luckily, I came to learn that change is possible. My resilience could return with a different purpose. As I began my own recovery, I noticed examples of it everywhere. Mates of mine who had once been hardcore operators were reinventing themselves in the private sector, where they worked successfully in big corporations by applying the same levels of self-discipline and focus that had served them so well in the past. Other blokes I served with decided to set up their own businesses – renovating properties, distilling rum, even producing high-end technical clothing inspired by their military experience. In every case, the work was hard, but the rewards were huge. All of those lads had endured the turbulence that comes with a changing life. All of them came through successfully.
One of the hardest things about finding a new purpose is the overwhelming sense that we’re starting from scratch. It’s bloody scary. There’s pressure to locate a new calling, a life-altering transformation or idea. The very thought of it can freak people out and cause them to quit before they’ve even started. When speaking to people at Rock2Recovery going through a challenge of this kind, we tend to revert to the step-by-step method used by the Royal Marines in Basic Training: we suggest small forward movements rather than giant leaps of faith.
For example, sometimes it’s enough for a person that their new purpose is to imagine finding their new purpose. For other people their new purpose might be to take care of themselves for a few weeks with some rest and recuperation at home. That can be enough to get them through until they want to think about locating their next calling. Family, good health and positive friendships are also good jumping-off points for a new purpose. It really doesn’t matter what the motivation is, and it can be constantly evolving. The important thing is to make that first move.
PHASE THREE
The Experience Factor: Knowledge Dispels Fear
Experience is everything when it comes to building resilience.
In the military, gruelling periods of training are used to deliver important lessons and each one tells an individual how to function effectively in dangerous situations. There were plenty of times where I was operating in unusual circumstances behind enemy lines – such as during a heavy aerial bombardment from a hostile force – where my training had equipped me with a level of background knowledge and confidence that prevented me from spinning out. My experience told me I could execute the mission.
From the moment work began with the Royal Marines Commandos, I was exposed to a series of physical and psychological tests. Each one was designed to build strength and stamina, but they also presented me with an internal hard drive of experiences and memories. I jumped through assault courses and crawled through tunnels and ice-cold rivers so that real-life combat wouldn’t seem so physically confusing. I completed battle drills with blank rounds and smoke grenades. When the bullets and bombs flew around for real, my head told me, ‘I’ve been in a similar situation before. I can handle this.’
Everyone can become more robust through experience; we only have to push ourselves. In the military elite, I was given the opportunity to grow through learning, sometimes in unexpected ways, which I’ll detail over the coming pages. The logistics of what I did will probably seem extreme, but the principles behind the work I undertook are applicable to anybody …
The British Forces shove a lifetime of experience at their troops during training, for one simple reason: it keeps them alive. It’s well documented that the hard work done away from the extremes of war can adequately prepare an army for the stresses to come. Soldiers become more robust; armies increase their performance levels; conflicts are won as a result. But the ways in which experience is imparted are as important as the whys. It’s not enough simply to throw a person in the deep end – sometimes literally, expecting them to adapt and survive immediately.
According to a commonly used but uncredited theory, there are four positions, or ‘zones’, of experience a person has to work through when building resilience:
1) The Comfort Zone. Here a person is protected by familiarity. It could be the less-than-challenging job they’ve been doing for years, the uninspiring exercise routine they fall back on or the same old predictable patterns of behaviour. Life’s pretty cosy here, but there’s no real progress or personal development.
2) The Fear Zone. Escaping the Comfort Zone for the Fear Zone is probably the toughest step because the Fear Zone is an area of self-doubt and insecurity where any imagined challenges or hopes a person might have had for themselves are greeted with a chorus of doubting internal noise. A promotion? You’re having a laugh, mate! A 5K? No way! Here begins a battle of self-confidence where the strong-willed push through but the weaker person finds an excuse to bail and retu
rns to the Comfort Zone.
3) The Learning Zone. Life gets pretty interesting if a person can move past their discomforts, beyond fear, to the Learning Zone. This is where new skills are developed and hurdles are overcome. As a result, a person becomes stronger and is now able to thrive in challenges that might previously have crushed them.
4) The Growth Zone. Having picked up a series of new skills within the Learning Zone, the individual finds they are suddenly stronger, more experienced and increasingly capable as a result. From here on they’re able to hit whatever targets they might have originally set for themselves and plan new goals for the future. In essence, their new comfort zone has expanded.
These principles are well known and widely used, and I’ve witnessed their effectiveness during the training of soldiers in the British Armed Forces. I stepped through all four zones as I progressed from a scrawny Royal Marines recruit into a battle-tested operator. But I’ve seen how this process works in business, too: companies preparing for major change – such as a digital overhaul – have to leave the Comfort Zone and enter the Fear Zone, then gain experience in the Learning Zone, before reaping rewards in the Growth Zone. Individually, we work through these same steps in a number of situations, from learning to drive to starting a family. In order to grow from a nervous, first-time house buyer into someone capable of buying an investment property, a person has only to work through the four stages of experience, though the biggest challenge is undoubtedly taking that first, nerve-wracking step away from the easy life.
THE COMFORT ZONE
