The Shift That Saved Me — And Why One Session Might Be Enough to Start Yours

There’s a question I often get asked — usually after I’ve shared a bit of my story, or spoken at an event, or quietly admitted how different life looks now compared to a few years ago.

“How did you turn it around?”

And honestly? There’s no one answer. But if I had to start somewhere, I’d say this: I stopped trying to escape the life I had and started building one I actually wanted to live.

But that shift didn’t happen overnight. It came after years of floating — through highs and lows, bursts of ambition and stretches of numbness, connection and collapse. I spent almost a decade in that in-between space, where you’re not exactly drowning, but you’re not exactly okay either. Some days were good. Others, I white-knuckled through. Always chasing the next hit of meaning, or validation, or something — anything — that felt like relief.

It’s hard to explain unless you’ve been there. Mental health challenges don’t just change your mood. They change your motivation, your memory, your relationship to yourself. They drain your confidence, your clarity, your ability to believe in anything long-term. They don’t just mess with your head — they rewire your life.

And while yes, I am grateful to the psychologists who showed up when I needed them — and I will always thank the meds for giving me the breathing room to stabilise — the biggest shift wasn’t clinical. It was internal. It was the moment I realised no one was coming to save me… but I could still choose to save myself.

Something, When the Alternative Is Nothing

In a world where therapy waitlists stretch for months and mental health support feels increasingly out of reach, it’s easy to believe that recovery is only possible for the privileged — for those who can afford $400 sessions and take time off to ‘do the work.’

But what if something smaller could start the change?

That’s the question driving researchers like Jessica Schleider, whose “Project Personality” has shown that even a single session of intervention — digital or in-person — can create measurable change, especially for young people. Her programs use brief story-based prompts, interactive writing, and simple neuroscience to help participants see that change is possible. That we’re not broken. That we can grow.

The idea isn’t that one session cures everything. It’s that one session can crack the door open. It’s a first step when the alternative is nothing.

And honestly, I get that. Because I’ve had those moments too — where one insight, one conversation, one shift in language or perspective gave me the nudge I needed. I didn’t need to solve my life in an hour. I just needed to believe it was possible to start.

Less Escaping, More Engaging

When I look back on the hardest years of my life — the ones that were loud on the outside but hollow inside — I see a pattern. I was constantly escaping. Escaping boredom, discomfort, vulnerability, shame. I filled the silence with screens, substances, social swirl — anything to avoid sitting still.

And yet, what saved me wasn’t more escape. It was more engagement.

Showing up to group therapy. Showing up to training. Showing up to the same gym at the same time each week. Showing up to work. Showing up to life.

That kind of consistency sounds small, but it was revolutionary for me. Because it taught me something I hadn’t believed for years: that I could rebuild trust in myself. That I could make a plan — and follow through. That I didn’t need a dopamine hit to feel alive. I just needed purpose.

I won’t pretend it was easy. The early days of sobriety were brutal. My brain felt like it had lost its scaffolding. But slowly, the fog cleared. And what emerged wasn’t some new, glossy version of me. It was the real one — tired, yes. But honest. Hungry for growth. And ready, finally, to start building something better.

The Therapy Session That Doesn’t Happen in a Room

I still believe in therapy. But I also believe that therapy — in the broadest sense — can take many forms.

Sometimes, it’s an actual session. Other times, it’s a tough conversation with a friend, a solo hike that quiets your mind, or a story that lands so precisely it feels like someone just opened a window in your chest.

In that sense, building Get Out has been part of my therapy. It’s given me something to pour my energy into — something that aligns with the life I want, not the one I was trying to outrun.

And along the way, I’ve come to see just how many of us are walking around with low-level emotional distress that we’ve learned to mask. People who seem “fine” but haven’t laughed from their gut in months. People who show up but don’t feel seen. People who’ve never really been taught that it’s okay to ask for more.

My empathy radar is on high alert these days. Maybe it’s because I’ve been to the edge and back. Maybe it’s just that I finally slowed down enough to notice.

Either way, I want people to know: you don’t have to wait until you’re in crisis to reach for something better.

If You're Struggling, You're Not Failing

This is the part I want to say clearly: if you’re struggling, you’re not failing.

You are not weak for finding life hard. You are not broken because you haven’t figured it all out. And you are not alone — even if it feels that way.

I know what it’s like to feel stuck in a version of yourself you didn’t choose. To look around and realise you’ve built a life that doesn’t fit — and have no idea how to change it.

But here’s what I’ve learned: change doesn’t have to start with a massive gesture. Sometimes, it’s as small as one honest conversation. One decision to try. One moment of self-belief.

So if you need help, ask. If you need rest, take it. If you need to start again — even at 30, 40, 50 — do it. There is no wrong time to rebuild. There is only now.

What’s Next

For me? Life keeps getting fuller — not just with work and projects, but with clarity. And I’m fiercely protective of it. Because I know how fragile it once was. I know what it cost to get here.

But I also know how many people are still somewhere in that before-state. Drifting. Doubting. Dimming themselves.

This is for you. For anyone who’s ever wondered if change is really possible.

It is.

And it doesn’t always start with a couch and a clipboard. Sometimes it starts with a click, a question, or a quietly defiant belief that this — right now — isn’t the end of your story.