7/12 - Awake In The Middle Of The Night

My first few sessions with Mike were, quite simply, life-changing.

He asked me to speak about my childhood. About family. About early memories.

I began sharing things I had never spoken about before.

I was born in 1977, the youngest of three children. Before I was born, my dad had been diagnosed with manic depression. The environment I grew up in was shaped by mental health affliction that ultimately fractured my parents’ marriage. My mum divorced my dad when I was eight.

At the time, I did not understand the impact those early years were having on me.

At 35 years of age, in my second session with Mike, I spoke words I had never spoken before.

I had been abused as a child.

I am grateful things did not go further than they did. They could have.

But what I now understand is this: silence had carried weight, increasing weight in fact, for over 25 years.

Bringing those experiences into the open was immensely significant. Pain that had lived in darkness was spoken aloud. Trauma that had been suppressed was acknowledged. Grief that had never been processed was named.

Every two to three weeks, as the sessions continued, something began to shift.

I felt lighter.
I felt more stable.
I felt a degree of peace I had not known before.

I shared openly with my wife. She was relieved. Encouraging. Supportive.

After six months, I genuinely believed I was well.

Toward the end of one session, I said to Mike:

“I don’t think I need to come back anymore. I feel much better.”

He didn’t persuade me otherwise. No pressure. No dependency. He left the decision with me.

So I stopped.

For a season, things held.

But over the 18 months that followed, slowly and quietly, the darkness returned.
Not dramatically. Progressively.

The destructive internal voice.
The distorted thought patterns.
The guilt over past mistakes.
The low-level fear.
The sense of being trapped inside my own mind.

Looking back now, I can see something clearly:

The darkness had not been removed.

It had just been temporarily stabilised.

Then came a particular week.

Every night, I would wake between 2am and 4am. My alarm was set for 6:15am. I was running a high-growth business. Leading people. Driving. Pitching to major worldwide brands. Speaking publicly.

And yet at 3am, I would lie there - wide awake.

My mind racing.

Sales.
Proposals.
Staff.
Cash flow.
Performance.
Responsibility.
Decisions.

Even though the business was moving in the right direction.
Even though externally everything looked strong.

I couldn’t quiet the voice.

I tried rain sounds. Audio streams. Headphones in the dark.

The harder I tried to sleep, the more impossible sleep became.

My wife woke several nights. She could see something wasn’t right.

I dismissed it as work pressure.

After about a week of unbroken, fragmented sleep, she said something simple but firm:

“Paul, you need help.”

She offered to come to the doctor with me.
And this time, I knew she was right.

I hadn’t seen Mike for 18 months. I thought that chapter was closed.

But now I had been functioning for a week on almost no sleep - leading, travelling, presenting, managing - while internally unraveling.

Once again, there was a widening gap between my outward image and my inner state.

I needed help.

The following morning, my wife and I went to the doctors.