I went to a guy called Mark. I sat down in his office, and he asked what was going on. It was like word vomit came out of me. I got very emotional and very upset. I told him everything – from the very first panic attack, to how I had been feeling, to the extent of my drinking to try to suppress how I was feeling, to the dream state I now found myself in, to being up and down and never telling anyone, to feeling judged by people, to being worried about coming to therapy sessions because I was worried about what I would talk about and that I was such a people pleaser that I would have to make him like me.

He listened.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said at the end of the session. ‘This is going to be super easy.’

‘What do you mean, super easy?’ I replied. I mean, this felt nothing like a super-easy task.

‘Jamie, you are not complicated, and this is not a complicated problem,’ he explained calmly. ‘You think it’s complicated. You’re just having a really tough time. If you come back next week and the week after and the week after, we can get through this together.’

It was a real lightbulb moment, one which made me change my attitude. I did go back the week after, and the week after that: in the end I saw him for about six or seven months in total. Mark was the one who explained what anxiety is and what I was going through. We talked about how it could be linked back to my childhood and to the concept of rejection, rooted in the way I was sent off to boarding school when I was so young, with my parents divorcing and us moving away from the home I knew and loved in the very same year. He taught me to understand myself and to be more self-aware. He encouraged me to reconnect with my family. I started to be much kinder, both to myself and the people around me.

He was the person who told me if I took care of the little things, the bigger things would fall into place. When I first started seeing him, my life was in utter chaos. Bills went unpaid, my flat was a disaster; clothes lay everywhere except in my wardrobe, and I never knew where anything was. In my mind, all these tasks were incredibly dull. If something didn’t excite me, I simply wouldn’t do it. I was constantly chasing a dopamine hit, always looking for excitement.

His advice was simple. He told me to make my bed in the morning, put my toothbrush back in the same place, put my post in the right place, hang my jacket up when I come through the door, pay that bill that I never pay, turn the TV off ... if I did those small things, then some of the larger issues in my life would resolve themselves, and it’s so true. It’s one of the most valuable pieces of advice anyone has ever given me. I had to retrain myself and understand that it is precisely those mundane things that are most important. It means that you don’t live with the constant worry about procrastination, and it made a huge difference. 

But now I suddenly had another issue: now that I felt much better and things were back on track a bit more, I thought I was cured. My depersonalisation had lifted, I thought I understood myself better, and I felt good. ‘I’m cured of this thing called anxiety,’ I told myself. ‘I’m absolutely fine.’

One week, I just didn’t rebook to go back. A bit like a break-up, we just stopped seeing each other. He couldn’t force me to return, and for me, it felt like the time had come to move on and that this chapter of my life was firmly closed. 

Things started to slide further. Old feelings and habits began to creep back in even more than before. I started to feel confused and unwell again. One day I found myself listening to a podcast where the person being interviewed said that they had been doing therapy for eight years, and it had changed their life. I then Googled famous people who had done therapy, and there were hundreds. Hundreds and hundreds. This was almost the norm.

What I soon realised was that therapy and working on yourself is a constant thing. It’s like going to the gym. When I stopped talking and working on myself, and doing all the right things, old ways crept back. I realised it’s not something that you can pick up and drop at will. It was like learning a new language. The moment you say you don’t have time for something like therapy is exactly the time that you should make the time.

I decided to find a new therapist. With Mark, helpful as he had been, our exchanges had been more clinical – he was the therapist, and I was the client, and sometimes it felt a bit like a job, almost transactional. And for someone like me, who is so driven by their emotions, I wanted more of a connection. I now wanted something deeper, which showed how much I was now ready to do the work I needed to do.

I was recommended Mal, and from our very first meeting, it was clear it would be different. It was the beginning of weekly therapy sessions for four years. We continued through lockdown, and it was the best investment that I have ever made. 

I never cancelled a session with Mal. This time, I treated my weekly therapy like a job. It took a lot of effort – there were countless times when I didn’t want to go, especially at the beginning. My sessions were on a Monday at 8am, and I spent many Sundays brainstorming excuses to skip the next day’s appointment. I felt totally drained after each conversation, even though I hadn’t started my day, so there was that too. Yet I knew that I had to keep going with it. I had tried to solve things myself, and it hadn’t worked. I made a deal with myself that I would see it through.

Therapy demands a lot of self-discipline. It’s not just about showing up, because for it to work you have to actively put in the work once you’re there. I was in a position where I wanted to better myself, and that was my driving force, a North Star guiding me forward. A reason why I started doing my initial therapy with Mark was that I wanted to feel better, and I believed, once my anxiety had eased and when things were looking up, that I had reached my destination.

But then, my North Star shifted. It was not just about feeling better in the moment or for a period of time. I wanted to be a better person. Dealing with my anxiety was a big one, but I wanted to be more self-aware and understanding of myself, my family and friends. I’m still chasing that goal.

Therapy requires a long-term commitment, but it’s well worth the effort. It forces you to confront difficult truths and unpack old patterns. You commit to consistent self-reflection and hard work and you often see progress in small, incremental steps rather than dramatic leaps. This journey of self-understanding and personal growth requires time, patience, and unwavering dedication. I now understand you don’t ‘finish’ therapy; you integrate its lessons into your life. It’s a tool I plan to consistently engage with, a continuous investment in my mental wellbeing, and a commitment to personal growth. You build your best self over the years, not in a day.