March 21, 2025
Falling Down the Pyramid
Maslow’s hierarchy of needs is one of those ideas that sticks with you. Even if you’ve only seen the pyramid diagram, you get the gist: at the bottom, you’re focused on survival. At the top, self-actualization.
But what the diagram doesn’t show is how chaotic the journey up can be. You don’t just climb steadily from food and shelter to inner peace. It’s more like: climb to level three, fall to level one. Climb to four, fall to two. Crawl back up, fall again.
This week, I talked to 23 people who have recently taken a big fall. Folks who had long careers or stable businesses—fifteen, twenty years in—and then, suddenly, it’s gone. The ladder they built disappeared overnight.
Here’s what I’ve noticed:
If you started at the bottom, climbed your way up, and got knocked down… it sucks, but you know how to climb. You’ve done it before. You’re not going to panic.
But if you started higher up—say level three—and you’ve never had to fight your way up from one? That first big fall feels like the world is ending. It might be tempting to panic or give up or give in.
Don’t.
Storytime:
Around age 15, I convinced my parents to send me to a survivalist camp—hiking, rappelling, canoes, cold, getting lost in the woods with only a barely-adult “guide” who was not allowed to help us in any way. He could only intervene if someone was going to die, which he did have to do once because one of the kids got hypothermia.
It was level one.
Around age 25, when I was trying to make it as a musician, I lived in a van during the coldest Boston winter on record. I’d wake up with ice on the INSIDE of the windshield from the condensation of my breathing. I slept in electric socks and a winter coat while snowplows sprayed slush against the side of my “bedroom.” I was so broke, I’d collect free ketchup and mustard packets to eat.
It was level one.
Around age 35, after a divorce, I lived in an abandoned office with no shower. Used a chemical eye-wash station to clean up in the mornings. I slept on a blanket on the floor next to a couple piles of folded clothes. One time I had a friend over... she took one look at the place and literally started crying.
It was level one.
Anyways...
Why am I telling you all this?
Because I didn’t view any of these “level one” experiences as much of a hardship. They were all relatively brief, and in between each, I’ve climbed to higher and higher peaks on the pyramid.
TBH, they were actually kinda fun. I treated them like little adventures. Writing about them here almost feels like bragging. They’re some of my favorite memories.
Here’s the thing...
Falling down a level might feel like death.
It’s not.
It’s just the next part of your story.
You will climb back up.
You’ll be stronger.
Heck, who knows...
Years from now, you might even miss it.
Yours,
—J