Stephen Hill

From as early as I can remember, I loved helping people. Whether it was classmates struggling with homework, friends rehearsing school plays, or simply being someone they could talk to, I was always there. That desire to serve led me naturally into teaching, a vocation that felt perfect for me. I got a taste for it early with work experience and was thrilled to be accepted into a teaching degree. But after graduation, life presented its first fork in the road. The only teaching jobs were out in the country, and I wasn’t ready to take that leap. So when my boss at a rock and roll café offered me a manager’s role, I took what felt like the easy road.

Two decades went by in that industry. I was good at it, and it paid well enough for me to look after my young family. But deep down, each year chipped away a bit more of my passion and authenticity. The security came at a cost—growing stress and a growing sense that I wasn’t living my true life.

Everything changed when I turned 40. Out of nowhere, I had a heart attack. At that moment, facing my own mortality, I realised the stress and the compromises had caught up with me. I was given a second chance, a wakeup call. I threw myself into life coaching, eager to transform my mind and my habits, finally seeking the change I had long postponed. But when it got uncomfortable, I defaulted again to what seemed easy—working for a training company. It was a good job, except for the hard selling, which I hated. Eventually, I was let go. Once more, I was lost, floundering without real purpose.

Then, life presented the third “easy road.” My wife needed a business partner for her real estate office—her partner had pulled out and I stepped in. I never enjoyed it. The lack of authenticity, the games people played, and the judgment that came with telling others I was in real estate ate away at me. The result? Misery, major anxiety, and depression—diagnosed by a therapist when I finally admitted how low I’d sunk. This time, there were no shortcuts. When offered medical assistance , I refused. I owned my decisions, and I was determined to own my way out. Through vulnerability, honesty, and relentless self-work, I found a way forward. I wrote a best-selling book, “Climbing the Happy Hill,” about that climb, of which I am still doing.

Looking back, I see that each wrong turn wasn’t really wrong—it was a winding path teaching me the critical lessons I needed. Every detour was preparation to help others escape the same traps: jobs or businesses that pay well and provide status but rob you of joy, peace, and your authentic self.

I am not perfect. Like you, I’m still searching for that elusive holy grail—real freedom, peace, and happiness. But I know now I was put on earth to help others finally find theirs.