Mental Breakthrough (breakdown with a positive ending)

There’s a moment – or sometimes a slow, creeping series of them – where life gives you no choice but to stop. For me, that moment came in late October 2018.

From the outside, I’d ticked a lot of the boxes: the bigger house, the faster car, a family I adored. I was married, had two amazing children, and was doing what most would call “well.” But I wasn’t well. Not really. I was going through the motions, playing the part. Behind the scenes, I’d lost my job and was entering a long, drawn-out legal battle. My body had already hit the brakes: glandular fever took me out for nearly four months, but by October, I knew it wasn’t just physical. Something in my head wasn’t right either.

And when I finally stopped – properly stopped – I unravelled.

This wasn’t some stoic moment of clarity. It was messy. Exhausting. There were days I didn’t recognise myself. The mask I’d worn for years had cracked wide open, and all the expectations I’d been chasing – of what it meant to be a man, a provider, a “success” – came tumbling with it.

But, oddly, that was when something new began.

I didn’t call it wellness. I didn’t know anything about mindfulness or nervous system regulation. I wasn’t “on a journey.” I just knew I couldn’t keep living the way I had been. And so, slowly, I started to listen. I turned down the noise. I sat still. I reached out.

And in the quiet, I felt something unexpected: the first flicker of peace.

But let’s not pretend that was the end of the story – or some Hollywood-style transformation. I wasn’t suddenly enlightened. I was still raw, still unsure. The ego hadn’t gone anywhere. In fact, it tried to drag me back into certainty. I started a business, told myself I was going to help small owner-managed companies grow. I had my pitch polished. I’d use my experience to support others who’d taken the leap into self-employment but didn’t know how to quote, invoice, or market themselves. I had it all worked out.

Except… I really didn’t.

I didn’t know how much to charge. I wasn’t confident in myself. I wanted to help people, but I didn’t yet know how. The truth is, I was leaning on what I already knew because it felt safer than admitting I was still lost. Still learning. Still rebuilding.

And I still am.

Looking back, that time wasn’t a breakdown – not really. It was a breakthrough. Not a collapse, but a necessary crack in the armour I’d built around myself. The beginning of a rebuild – not with ego or external markers, but with rest, presence, and purpose.

If you’re reading this and feel like you’re close to the edge, I’ll say this: trust the pause. Honour the signal. Don’t be afraid of the fall – it might just be the start of something more honest, more grounded, and more real.

This isn’t the story of someone who fell and rose, neat and clean. It’s the story of someone who fell, started again, and is still figuring it out – one imperfect, intentional step at a time.