The Sales Pit is a story about men’s mental health.

For generations, men have been taught that emotions are a liability—that strength lies in silence and self-sufficiency. But unaddressed pain lingers and ultimately takes its toll.

Suppressing emotions isolates individuals rather than building resilience, making it harder to connect and increasing the risk of self-destruction. This book challenges that outdated mindset. This book uncovers the demons that come with high-stakes environments, the burnout no one warns you about, and the silent battles fought behind closed doors.

Like hockey and sales, and as Bessel van der Kolk coined, ‘the body keeps score’—often in ways we fail to notice and the cost of ignoring it is greater than we’ve been led to believe.

Unresolved trauma doesn’t just linger in the mind; it embeds itself in the body, showing up as chronic stress, tension, and illness. It follows you into your next job, into the next chapter of your life, even into your relationships—whispering that you’re never truly safe, and that the rug could be pulled out from under you at any moment. Some people get so sick that they can’t even move on to the next job. They remain stuck, drained, and unable to break free from the damage left behind because it’s often just too much to handle without proper supports.

But hockey and sales are two male-dominated industries that have long been built on competition, excess, and the relentless pursuit of success. In both worlds, toughness isn’t just valued; it’s expected. You must push through pain, shake off setbacks, and, whenever possible, never show weakness.

For many men, professional sports is the ultimate dream—the glory, the brotherhood, the rewards. But no one talks about what happens when that dream fades into a nightmare. The same goes for sales. The high-pressure grind, the “always be closing” mentality, and the belief that your worth is measured by your numbers or status—until one day, you realize you’re running on empty, still chasing that dream.

To survive in the sales and sports industries, one often needs to exude dominance, resilience, and bravado. Sensitive and emotional men don’t just struggle—they’re often chewed up and spit out. Sensitivity is often punished in industries that reward this level of bravado, forcing men to either adapt to the system and fit in, or risk being left out and left behind. In professional sports, drinks after work aren’t optional; they’re expected. Deals are sealed in lavishly hosted suites and the biggest closers like Shane aren’t just good at sales—they’re masters of the game, the ones who work hard, party harder, and wake up to do it all over again. It’s a culture of excess—money, power, sex, and status—all dangled like a prize for those who can keep up.

But beneath the surface, the cracks start to show. The pressure to perform, to be “on” at all times, to suppress anything that looks like weakness—it grinds people down. At some point the drinking stops being fun. The competition stops being healthy. The persona becomes a mask, and before you know it, the game is playing you instead of the other way around.

It’s the dark side of success, the part no one wants to talk about. But it’s real. And for many men, it’s a trap they don’t escape until it’s too late.

Mental health is at the core of this story because it comes from learned experiences. I lived it. The dream and the nightmare. I did everything I could possibly do in professional

sports aside from win a championship. Even though I am no longer in that industry,

I still live it.

Anxiety, depression, and PTSD didn’t fade when my time in professional sports ended. They followed me, lingering long after, shaping my days and disrupting my nights. But were my struggles caused by my time in pro sports? Hardly. I was battling long before that. If anything, the relentless grind of the sales pit only poured gasoline on the fire.

For years, I told myself to push through. To grind. To tough it out. Because that’s what we were taught. In the sales pit, struggling wasn’t an option. You hit your numbers, kept your

head down, and didn’t complain. If you did, there was always someone waiting to take your spot—and your sexy business card.

The weight of it all is crushing, and without support, survival isn’t guaranteed. Thankfully I had and continue to have a support system. My partner, my family, my friends and my therapist who have all pulled me back to land when I thought I was drowning. Who offered me a safe space to speak my mind, a friendly, empathetic ear and made sure my concerns and struggles were important. Not everyone has that. Not everyone is so lucky.

Even today, I struggle.

Even though I have everything I need—family, friends, an exciting career, opportunities to travel and do the things I love doing, I still struggle. I don’t think a day goes by that  

negative, spiraling thoughts haven’t crept in, quietly whispering that my kids are better off without me, or that I don’t matter, or that I am not good enough. Thoughts of hanging myself or jumping off a bridge. My therapist introduced me to Dr. Dan Siegal, who’s science-backed technique to calm spiraling thoughts is to actually put your feelings into words, or as he called it, ‘name it to tame it.’

This book has been a therapeutic process of naming my emotions and attempting to tame over thirteen years of racing thoughts. The technique has helped. My racing, spiraling thoughts haven’t broken me yet. But it still might.

Because that’s the scariest thing about mental health—the unknown. Trauma lingers. It doesn’t take much for thoughts to spiral either. Even relatively trivial or small things like a triggering commercial, a vague email, a car driving by in the middle of the night with a loud muffler or just a messy kitchen may not be enough to push someone over the edge, but as we learned in The Sales Pit, even when you thought you had things relatively under control, ‘things got out of control.’

It’s never just one thing. It’s often death by a thousand cuts.

It’s time we acknowledge that given all the pressures of everyday life, and today’s social and political climate, it’s very easy to feel overwhelmed.

For me, it’s being a dad, a son, a partner, an employee, a leader, a homeowner, a co-parent, an ordinary decent

human being. Fuck it takes a lot of work, strength and endurance, doesn’t it?

And society doesn’t help our cause either, because society often glorifies a different type of endurance and strength—athletes playing through injuries, first responders carrying trauma, professionals sacrificing everything for

success.

That needs to change.

Fuck bravado.

Fuck silence.

Fuck outdated definitions of weakness.

Throughout The Sales Pit, real strength isn’t suffering in silence; it’s knowing when to ask for help, and, when to ask if someone you care about needs help. We may find ourselves,

or see others struggling so deep that it’s difficult to see the light at the end of the tunnel. There are so many thoughts and feelings living under the surface. We need to find ways to bring them to the surface and turn thoughts into words.

Words of humility. “Help. Words of encouragement. “I’m here for you. I believe in you.” Words seeking a friendly ear or empathy. “I hear what you are saying.”

And that’s why this book matters. Too many people often suffer in silence, believing they have to endure it alone. But they don’t. The conversation around mental health has grown

louder, but awareness isn’t enough. Access to real support remains a privilege, not a given.

The stigma and perception discourages many, especially men from reaching out, further perpetuating cycles of suffering that could be alleviated with proper support. Even for those

fortunate enough to have health benefits that include mental health treatment, the reality often falls painfully short.

Many insurance plans provide only a meager $500 in annual coverage for mental health services—a sum that barely scratches the surface of what individuals require for effective treatment. As a result, many are limited to just a handful of therapy sessions before being forced to cope alone, suffering in silent isolation without the critical support they desperately need.

For too many, this leads to self-medication—whether through prescription drugs, alcohol, gambling, food, sex, or social media. Temporary fixes that numb the pain rather than heal it.

The cycle continues, the crisis deepens, and real solutions remain out of reach.

A significant theme of this book revolves around talking about feelings, and that discussion and vulnerability isn’t weakness—it’s survival. When men suppress their emotions, they isolate themselves, making it harder to seek help when they need it most.

Open conversations about mental health create space for real connections. Candid discussions become healthier coping mechanisms and together with proper support systems, opening up shows that we are not suffering alone.

Through some of my discussions with friends, family and colleagues who lived this, a few said it was like I crawled into their heads and spoke words they have been meaning to

say or express for years. I hope this book inspires everyone to speak what’s on their mind. To live their authentic self and be okay to not be okay.

Beyond men battling the expectations of toughness, The Sales Pit also addresses how women face a different kind of fight—the struggle to be taken seriously in arenas

built to exclude them. Her meteoric rise shattered glass ceilings in an industry that often resists change, proving that success doesn’t have to fit the mold.

But breaking barriers doesn’t mean breaking free from pressure. While women fight to prove they belong, men fight the silent war of proving they’re enough.

Different battles, same cost.

This book aims to illuminate those hidden battles, giving voice to neglected emotions. It redefines strength—not as mere endurance, but as the courage to acknowledge feelings, share burdens, and seek help.

Because no one should have to fight alone.