I was, in other people's words, “killing it”. I had the job, the friends, the lifestyle. I was combining my love of surfing with my passion for mental health. I was always on the go, at events, meeting a lot of people, and seemed to have it together. From the outside everything looked like I was on top of the world, but it was a very different story on the inside.
I was 26-years-old, living in Sydney and had for years been the 'life of the party', but ironically I found myself in a really isolated place. It was remnant of feelings from my adolescence of being bullied. But this time it was almost a self-induced isolation. As a mental health occupational therapist, I was pushing myself so hard to create a program that connected people dealing with mental health challenges. The long days, late nights, and minimal sleep was all for a purpose, with an end goal. Little did I realise at the time, bit by bit, I was burning myself into the ground.
Sometimes, the tireless pursuit to live out your purpose, can come with a cost. I was not only pushing myself into my work, but at the same time away from connections with friends, with family, with my community. I was a walking contradiction – promoting positive mental health, while not practicing my own wellness recipe. I was empty.
I had the perception that I had to keep all my sh** together. I couldn’t be vulnerable – that would be the worst thing for the message of my organisation. I had supportive people all around me, but felt I couldn’t share how I was really travelling. I had pushed myself into a place where I was trapped. No matter how many people were around, I felt isolated. I was lonely.
More and more I felt like I had to be the life of the party. This meant I was engaging in quite destructive behaviors with alcohol, leaving me feeling empty for days. The more it went on, the emptier I felt. What I needed was support but instead I dialed the partying up a notch - it was completely counterproductive to living a healthy and happy life. I knew something was wrong. I wasn’t myself, I hadn’t felt myself for a while. But now people were noticing, and making comments about it.
It took me a long time to realise I was lonely because I thought you’re not lonely if people are around you. You’re not lonely if you’re interacting with people every day. Loneliness is a physical thing where you’re alone. I now know it’s not true. Loneliness can be someone who has everyone around them.
In the thick of it, I decided to see a psychologist. After my first session I took to social media and talked openly about my experience. What came next was the furthest from what I expected. The response was overwhelming. People I hadn’t connected with in a long time started saying ‘I’ve felt that too’. They were sharing really personal things about their own journey, and said thank you for opening up.
There will be some people I know reading this for the first time thinking, wow, I had no idea. That’s the thing with mental health challenges – it’s often the people we expect the least, who can be struggling the most.
A few years on, I co-founded the Waves of Wellness Foundation with my now wife, for this very reason. As CEO of a mental health charity, my dream is to help people going through mental health challenges, and make sure they never have to go it alone. It’s an incredible experience using surf therapy as a way of helping people get back on track, while having real, honest conversations about mental health and wellbeing.
When I look back on those experiences some years ago, I’m now grateful. Because without finding the bottom, I would have never been able to get here. I had to change a lot of things. I had to learn how to ask for help. I had to learn how to have real conversations with the people in my life. The people who love and support me. The people who I blocked out. The people I wanted to think I had it all together.
My most valuable lesson - we can’t be afraid to take off that proverbial mask, and admit we don’t have it all together. I was worried about this for a long time. I stigmatised myself. It was only when I got real with myself, and became vulnerable, that it all started to change, and that feeling of loneliness started to lift. This is one of the main drivers for everything I do in my professional work - teaching vulnerability. Whether it’s through various mental health keynotes, or on the sand with our WOW participants, it’s now my mission to break down these barriers, the common misconceptions surrounding mental health. I’m determined to kick down these doors so that other people can walk through.
