If the thing you built your whole identity on disappeared tomorrow, would there be anything left of you?

Most men believe that if they work hard enough at something, the reward will finally answer a deeper question they’ve been carrying for most of their lives. That’s not unreasonable. Hard work should make you a better boss, a better athlete, a better father. But the specific reward you’re chasing, the one that will finally make you feel significant, may never come.

There’s a daily check-in question from the Narcotics Anonymous 12-step guide: Am I setting myself up for disappointment? Men fall into that trap easily with identity, because we assume sincere work guarantees a reward.

When the Role Disappears

In 1993, the Army told Jay Pyatt they didn’t need him anymore. He’d only served a short time, but he identified as a soldier for years afterward. When we wrap our identity around an activity, a pursuit, or a career, it can vanish completely, outside of our control.

That identity kept surfacing. In early marriage counseling, Jay wore his West Point class ring on the same finger as his wedding ring. His wife Lori felt like it said something else came before their marriage. When the counselor asked why West Point mattered so much, Jay didn’t have a real answer. He was holding onto it as proof of his significance at exactly the moment his marriage was struggling.

This isn’t rare. At the 2024 Paris Olympics, an athlete who had trained for years snapped her Achilles tendon getting into the blocks. Years of work, gone in a second. It happens to athletes, salespeople, attorneys, and soldiers.

Carry the Oars, Don’t Be Ruled by Them

The movie The Odyssey retells the story of a man trying to get home after years of war. Before he left, a prophet told Odysseus that once home, he’d need to take his oars, the tools that made him a sailor and a warrior, and carry them inland until he reached people who didn’t recognize them. Only then could he plant those oars in the ground and offer up that identity. He wasn’t told to destroy who he was. He was told to carry it somewhere it couldn’t run his life anymore.

Christians will recognize the same pattern in the story of the rich young ruler. Jesus doesn’t tell him his wealth is evil. He tells him to sell it and follow him anyway, because it can’t run his life anymore either. It has to become an offering instead of an identity.

The Trap of Starting Over

When an identity vanishes, whether you let it go or it’s taken from you, some men just find a new one and start the cycle over. Same trap, new label. When the new reward is also elusive, disappointment turns into resentment, and resentment can turn into bitterness toward the very thing you used to love.

Retirement does this to men who lose the ability to keep proving themselves at work. Injury does this to athletes who can no longer compete at the level that gave them meaning. The deeper problem isn’t losing the job. It’s losing the ability to do the job.

Two Funerals, Two Legacies

Two men from the same small town died. One never had money or a title, but he cared about the people around him. His funeral had standing room only at the biggest church in town. The other had money and property and real success. His funeral had plenty of open seats.

Neither man worked less hard than the other. The difference was what they were actually chasing. One knew he was there to be of service to people. The other was more concerned with the payoff than the people.

Bill W. and Dr. Bob

In the 1930s, a struggling salesman from New York stopped in a small Ohio town, afraid he was about to relapse. He asked around for the worst alcoholic in town and was pointed to Dr. Bob. Bill W. and Dr. Bob met that night. Neither could save himself alone. They found an identity not in career or status, but in being honest about their failure, and it worked because they refused to make it about themselves.

The Real Question

It’s fine to want to be the best athlete, the best salesman, the best pastor. Go be the best at that thing. Just don’t let it come with a hidden second sentence: “…then I’ll finally have meaning.” That sentence is where the storm takes you off your feet.

This week, ask yourself the real question: if the title, the role, the number in the account disappeared tomorrow, is there anything left of you? If the honest answer scares you, that’s exactly where to start.

There’s a man in you that other men need to know. Recognizing you may never get the recognition you’re chasing, and letting go of needing it, can be its own kind of freedom.

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This is part of the Storm Ready Men series on the storms every man faces. Next up: the storm of comparison.

Take the free Storm Ready Assessment at StormReadyMen.com. Wives, send your husband here, and check out The Couple Cure for yourself.