How Appendicitis at 14 Shaped How I Lead Today


The Pain I Tried To Hide


At 14, I was rushed into emergency surgery. Appendicitis. Sudden, Sharp. Immediate. 


The pain was undeniable. But for days, I denied it. 


I didn't want to overreact. I didn't want to be a burden. I didn't want to seem weak. 


So I minimised. I smiled through it. I said, "I'm fine". 


Until I wasn't.


It took a literal rupture for me to finally speak up. And even then, I apologised to the doctor for the inconvenience.


The Pattern Beneath The Pain


I didn't realise it at the time, but the pattern didn't end in adolescence. It followed me into adulthood. And eventually, into leadership. 


The instinct to:


  • Downplay discomfort.
  • Push through fatigue.
  • Ignore inner signals until they scream. 


Because somewhere along the way, many of us learned the same lesson: pain is a problem to hide, not a message to heed. 


How It Shows Up In Leadership


That instinct - to push through, to minimise, to keep smiling - doesn't disappear when you step into leadership.


It shows up in quieter, but no less costly, ways:


  • Saying "yes" to work you don't have the capacity for.
  • Smiling in meetings while feeling stretched thin. 
  • Carrying emotional labour for your team while telling yourself, "This is just what good leaders do". 


On the outside? Composure. 

On the inside? Strain. 


The Lesson That Changed Me


What appendicitis taught me, years later, was this: pain isn't weakness, it's information.


Listening to pain (whether physical, emotional, or professional) isn't indulgence, it's intelligence.


Real leadership requires listening, to others, yes, but also to ourselves.


Because when we ignore our own signals, we can't show up fully for anyone else.


Why This Story Matters For Leaders


For ambitious emerging leaders, the pressure to appear strong, capable, and unshaken is intense. But leadership isn't about being unbreakable. It's about being human.


The leaders who build trust aren't the ones who hide their pain; they are the ones who acknowledge it, manage it, and learn from it.


Sometimes, the strongest thing you can do is say: "This hurts".


My Gentle Invitation


If any part of this story resonates - the minimising, the smiling through, the carrying more than you let on - know this: you're not broken, you're simply repeating a pattern that many of us were taught to follow. 


And patterns can shift. With reflection. With practice. With support. 


At Foresight, our coaching programs create the space to do that work. To pause. To listen. To notice the signals you've been taught to ignore, and learn how to lead from a place of honesty, not suppression. 


Because leadership doesn't start with knowing all the answers, sometimes, it begins with simply being able to say: "This hurts". 

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