I was on the mat at jujitsu last week, working out a technique with another black belt, learning how to flow from one move to the next. After only two or three minutes of getting into and out of position, up and down, I was puffed. Properly struggling for breath. It was both a bit of a shock and not surprising at all.
A shock because, at 60, I’ve spent years taking my fitness seriously, and I’m in comparatively good shape. But not surprising either, because for the last couple of months, I’ve been constrained in my training—especially cardio—thanks to a bunch of skin cancer treatments.
Then, in that weird way the universe has of hurling coincidence at us, I came across a saved article on Substack titled ‘25 Journaling Prompts’. I’d had a rough work week, full of legit disruptions, and I’d saved the article hoping it might spark some blog post or column ideas. Upon reading it, however, I realised the prompts were more suited to writers exploring feelings and personal life. Not really my thing.
The very first prompt was: What do I really need right now?
Because of that moment on the mat two days earlier, where I’d been completely gassed out after minimal effort, my first thought was: better cardio. But then my thoughts jumped to Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, which I hadn’t thought about since I was an undergrad psych student 40 years ago.
Weirdly enough, at the base of the pyramid—food and shelter—and at the very peak—self-actualisation—I’m sorted. I live in a nice house and usually have enough money to buy groceries and hit my macro goals (180 grams of protein, 37 grams of fibre, and the occasional donut). I became a writer decades ago, which not only pays the bills but gives my days some meaning.
So if the top and bottom are covered, what’s in the middle?
That’s where it hit me. Those in-between levels, especially the need for friendship and human connection, can get hollowed out over time without you even noticing.
This might be an odd thing for me to say, because I do have family and friends, and even this weird, wonderful connection with you lot. I don’t undervalue these parasocial relationships. I’ve seen a few marriages and real-world friendships form through my blogs over the years. But if I had to pick a part of Maslow’s hierarchy where I’m lacking, it’s that middle layer.
It’s surprisingly hard to admit; makes you feel a bit pissweak or vulnerable, you know? Maybe it’s like billionaires always needing more money. But one of the things about working for yourself, especially in a gig like this where you spend most of the day inside your own head, is the complete lack of company.
I can imagine some of you giving your co-workers the side-eye at this point and thinking, man, that’d be so fucking sweet. And look, it is, most of the time. But it’s also isolating. You even come to crave the isolation.
I was talking about it with Darren, my PT, the other day. (The fact that my PT is one of the few people I regularly speak to outside of immediate family most weeks is telling, don’t you think?) Anyway, he agreed. He reckoned we all get lost in our screens. Rather than just talk about it, we decided to do something—to catch up for a coffee with another friend of ours from the dojo, Mike, my old training partner.
We set up a time and, in the way of these things, Darren was unable to make it at the last minute. But I met up with Mike at a café down the hill, and we had a long chat. He’s a professional photographer, so like me, his work is being affected/threatened/changed daily by AI. It was good to talk about it all in a longer, deeper way than is possible online.
In fact, I don’t think it’s possible to talk about stuff like that online at all, or at least not on most social platforms. It doesn’t take more than a minute for people to start screeching past each other and “performing” whatever conclusion they’ve decided to reach.
It was fascinating to sit and talk with someone whose opinions and intelligence I respected as he worked through the changes and implications for his industry, which is adjacent to but still distinct from mine.
Also, we’re mates - old training partners. Working through those belts has cost us a fair bit of damage and pain over the years, so it was good to sit and talk with someone who shares that history.
It was a week ago now, but I still remember walking out of that café feeling lighter on my feet and clearer in my head.
Maslow was right. Turns out, that was just what I needed.
Still gotta work on my cardio, though.