Shift Happens: 12 Tools to Calm, Strengthen and Transform Your Life by Richard Sutton
Pan Macmillan South Africa
Lady Gaga: Cold-water crazy
I can’t explain it, but there’s something truly extraordinary about Lady Gaga, whose real name is Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanotta. To my mind, she is without question the greatest of all time (the GOAT).
Like many, she’s faced the challenges of failure, pain, trauma, rejection and all-consuming self-doubt. Yet, she has risen from the ashes, time and time again — the ultimate phoenix, a living testament to perseverance and the power of self-awareness, self-control and self-belief. Resilience is the bridge between dreams and reality, the conduit for transforming pain into art.
Barely out of school, at just 19, Stefani faced the trauma of repeated sexual assault. She has spoken openly about her experience and the flashbacks, emotional numbness and severe anxiety — hallmark symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) — that followed. At around the same time, she faced professional rejection when she was dropped by her first record label, Def Jam Records — a decision the label likely regrets.
Despite the abuse, humiliation and heartbreak, Stefani picked herself up and channelled her emotions into songwriting.
Yet the pain and trauma from her past, coupled with the immense pressure and complexity of the music industry, has brought intense struggles with anxiety and depression, and at times, Stefani has questioned whether she could continue. In her own words: “I’ve suffered through depression and anxiety my entire life. I still suffer with it every single day.”
Over time, Gaga has built a foundation of powerful stress and personal-management tools, many of which are featured in the book. Her strategies include professional support, meditation, yoga, gratitude practices, setting boundaries and surrounding herself with a supportive team. And one of her most transformative tools has been taking cold plunges.
What strikes me most about Gaga’s story is that it’s not where you start, or even how you start — it’s the distance travelled, it’s the journey, it’s how you finish.
Her story is one of tremendous strength — but it’s the quiet strength of being true to who you are, to holding on to your values and beliefs even when the world doesn’t understand you. It’s also about self-care. Not just the physical rituals — though those matter and are a core focus of this book — but the emotional kind of self-care that comes through forgiveness, through gratitude and through letting go of unbearable pain.
If I had to name one lesson from Gaga, it’s about having courage.
The courage to live your truth. The courage to create, even when you feel you are broken. The courage to keep showing up.
I’ve recommended cold exposure for years, mainly as a recovery tool for my athletes, but I’ll be honest: I never liked the cold. I still don’t. I mean, who actually enjoys freezing?
But one autumn morning, curiosity got the better of me, and I decided to feel it for myself. I walked out to our pool at home and stepped in, just up to my waist. The water was about 15 degrees. Not exactly Arctic, but cold enough to make me scream.
I lasted a minute. I moaned for the next 60.
But something shifted.
So I tried again the next day. Same drama. Same screaming. But I stayed in a little longer – 90 seconds this time. And again I walked away feeling better. Emotionally lighter. Mentally clearer. More grounded.
By the end of two weeks, I was up to nine minutes (although the science tells us it doesn’t need to be that long). The changes were tangible. My mood lifted. My motivation spiked. The mental and emotional clarity stuck around for at least six hours — and that was the hook.
So it became a daily ritual. Every morning, without fail, I’d walk into the pool. But as winter arrived, the water temperature dropped to around six degrees. And by now, I wasn’t just in up to my waist — I was going neck-deep.
Was it uncomfortable? Absolutely.
Did I still hesitate every single time? No question.
Did I still (quietly) panic before getting in? Every. Single. Time.
But the gradual build-up made it manageable. Because I hadn’t gone all in from the start, my system adapted. I hadn’t shocked it — I’d trained it.
