Years ago, I sat at my kitchen table and drew a rough Venn diagram. In one circle I listed everything that set me off—foods, sounds, places, people, smells. In the other, I listed what kept me steady—sleep, movement, clean meals, quiet mornings, safe faces. I asked one question:

What’s the 20% that, if I get it right, will improve 80% of my life?

Then I went after it. I read a couple hundred books. I ran experiments. I paid attention. Back then we didn’t have a cool word for it. Today they call it “biohacking.” For me, it was a lifeline.

What I discovered (the hard way)

* Certain foods wrecked me. Not just “too many calories,” but artificial dyes and junk ingredients. A small hit could spiral my mood for days.

* Sugar was gasoline on the fire. Anxiety up. Sleep down. Fuse shortened.

* Inputs matter. Music, clothing textures, the wrong crowd, cluttered rooms, fluorescent lights, certain smells—tiny things that pushed me into the red.

* Environment is medicine. A quiet space, natural light, tidy desk, a walk outside—these weren’t “nice to have.” They were non-negotiable.

* Boundaries beat willpower. I stopped trying to “tough it out.” I changed my inputs.

None of this made me perfect. It just made me functional—more present for my wife, my work, my people.

The 20% that moved 80% of the needle

You don’t have to fix everything. You have to fix the right things.

* Food audit. Whole foods first. Protein early. Ditch the artificial stuff. Track how you feel 2–24 hours after you eat.

* Sugar ceiling. Set a daily cap (or cut it for 30 days). Watch your sleep and mood stabilize.

* Sleep protection. Same bedtime, cool dark room, no doom-scroll the last hour.

* Morning anchors. Water, movement (10–20 min), 3 deep breaths, sunlight. Start on purpose, not by accident.

* Noise & input hygiene. Curate your music, news, and conversations. Some songs heal. Some don’t. Same with people.

* Clothing & sensory comfort. Wear what your nervous system likes. Texture, fit, temperature. It’s not vanity—it’s regulation.

* Environment reset. Clear surfaces. Open a window. Step outside at lunch. Set the stage for the life you want to live.

* Company you keep. Choose people who calm your nervous system, not people your nervous system has to recover from.

Start with one or two. Win small. Repeat.

How to run your own “Venn Diagram” experiment (7 days)

Day 1: Map it.Two lists: “Fuels me” and “Flares me.” Be brutally honest.

Day 2–3: Remove one red-flag input.Sugar at night? A certain podcast that spikes you? The cluttered office? Pull one thing out and note your sleep, mood, and patience the next day.

Day 4–5: Add one stabilizer.Protein-heavy breakfast, a 20-minute walk, phone on Do Not Disturb until 9 a.m., five minutes of breathing. Track results.

Day 6: Environmental upgrade.Fix your light, clear your desk, set clothes out for tomorrow, open the blinds. Small wins, big gains.

Day 7: Review and lock it in.What moved the needle most? Keep that 20%. The rest can wait.

My rules, written in ink

* If an input repeatedly costs me my peace, it’s out.

* If a habit repeatedly gives me my life back, it’s in.

* If I have to white-knuckle it every day, I need a different plan.

Simple. Not easy. Worth it.

You’re not broken. You’re sensitive to inputs.

That sensitivity is intelligence. Point it at what heals you.

If you try this, tell me your 20%—the one small change that delivered the biggest return. I read every comment. And if this helped, share it with a friend who’s living in the red and needs a way back to steady.

Stay steady and lets connect on substack and social!John (@drjohnaking)

Quick note

If you’re in a dark place or feel unsafe right now, please reach out to local emergency services or a trusted professional in your area. You’re not alone, and help is available.

You Don’t Lose Your Man Card for Telling the Truth

Silence is shredding our homes. Speaking up is not weakness—it’s leadership.

There are millions of men who feel like they have no voice and no place. They bottle it up. They swallow it. And while they’re trying to “be strong,” that pressure leaks out sideways—onto their wives, their kids, their teams. We have to make space for a different kind of strength: the courage to tell the truth without feeling like you’re cashing in your man card.

The other day I wrapped a recording with a big-name podcast host. Off-air, he paused and said quietly, “I was sexually abused as a kid. I’ve never told anyone.”I asked him why. He stared at the desk. “Look at what I do. Look at who I represent. How can I say that out loud?”

That’s the trap. We confuse the image of strength with the practice of strength. The image demands silence. The practice demands honesty.

What silence does

* Turns pain into anger and distance at home.

* Pushes you toward numbing—work, booze, porn, the gym—anything to not feel.

* Teaches your sons that men shut up and go it alone, and teaches your daughters that a man’s love looks like withdrawal.

What speaking up does

* Breaks shame’s grip. Shame thrives in the dark; it dies in the light.

* Returns agency. You stop being defined by what happened and start deciding what happens next.

* Models real strength. Your people don’t need a perfect man—they need an honest one.

“How do I even start?”

Keep it simple. Keep it small. Keep it moving.

* One sentence opens the door.“Something happened to me when I was a kid, and I need to talk about it.” That’s enough for the first step.

* Choose your first listener wisely.A trusted friend, a mentor, a pastor, a qualified counselor. Someone who can hold what you say, not fix it in five minutes.

* Expect adrenaline.Your body may shake. Your mind may race. That’s not weakness; it’s your nervous system finally exhaling.

* Stay concrete.You don’t owe a movie script. Share what you can, today. More can come later.

* Get professional backup.Courage isn’t a substitute for care. Book the appointment. Put it on the calendar.

* Lead at home.When you’re ready, let your wife or partner in. Not to burden her, but to invite her into the real journey you’re on.

A word to leaders

If you carry a platform, a badge, a pulpit, a rank, or a brand: your title doesn’t make you bulletproof. It makes you watched. Your honesty will give other men permission they’ve never felt before. That’s leadership.

You don’t lose your man card by telling the truth. You prove you deserved it in the first place.

If this is you—if your chest is tight just reading this—take the first step today. Send the text. Make the call. Reply to this post and say, “I’m ready to talk.” You’re not alone, and you’re not beyond repair. Real strength starts here.

Follow me : Dr. John A. King

On Social (at)drjohnaking