The Small Step

I’m not entirely sure how to succinctly describe how I improved my mental and physical health. There wasn’t one singular event that changed everything. Instead, it was a constellation of small things converging at the same time.

Change is gradual… until suddenly it isn’t.

Here’s the context to my story.

Almost 10 years ago to the day, I was six years into my EMS career after earning my paramedic certification. I had received my Intermediate certification about two years prior, so I wasn’t unfamiliar with practicing at the ALS level. Yet the more I learned, the more apparent it became that I was woefully underprepared for the realities of medicine.

I was angry at the world.

I struggled to remember tasks, deadlines, and even parts of my uniform for shift. Yet when I was “on,” I was unstoppable. I understood medicine beyond just the protocols. I was smart. Mostly on time. Slightly above average. Compared to people who were truly struggling, I looked like I was doing pretty well.

Underneath it all, though, I was running on caffeine, nicotine, and an overwhelming internal pressure to be more productive.

It felt like I had a corkscrew twisting inside my body. A constant, ever-changing pressure that my ducks weren’t in a row… and I couldn’t even find the pond they were supposed to be in. I’m pretty sure I have that meme on my phone.

At the time, I weighed 240 pounds and was working in disaster management, one of six jobs I seemed to collect during that season of life. I spent a tremendous amount of time on the road. Thankfully, I had discovered podcasts, and EmCrit had launched shortly before. I binged episodes while driving thousands of miles each month.

The real problem was this:

I didn’t like myself.

I didn’t like the life I had built. I felt hopeless, powerless, and directionless, like I was a sail being blown around without any control over where I was headed.

At the time, I was dating a girl earning her LPC. She was incredibly kind, though deep down I knew she wasn’t my person. I had known it from the beginning, yet I still chose the relationship.

She struggled heavily with anxiety and frequent panic attacks. At times she was suicidal, not necessarily planning to hurt herself, though often wishing she simply wouldn’t wake up the next morning. Together, we weren’t helping each other heal.

I tried breaking up a couple of times, though each time I was persuaded to come back.

Eventually, she encouraged me to try therapy and meditation.

At first, I resisted. I wasn’t struggling as much as she was, so why would I need therapy?

Yet mindset and meditation were recurring themes in many of the EmCrit episodes I listened to, so eventually I decided to give it a shot. I downloaded Headspace because it offered 10 free days. Ten minutes a day. Free. Minimal downside.

That small step became the beginning of everything.

Around the same time, I asked my therapist what my diagnosis was.

“Depression,” she said.

I was crushed.

For about a week, Eeyore became my spirit animal. I felt labeled. I felt broken. I thought depression had become my identity.

At my next session, I admitted how much that diagnosis was weighing on me.

Her response changed my life.

“Oh,” she said casually, “it’s only temporary.”

Boom.

It felt like someone turned the lights on for the first time.

It’s hard to explain how powerful it was to realize I had a temporary condition, not a permanent identity. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I had agency. I could change. I wasn’t stuck.

I was in control of my next step.

Not long after, I ended the relationship. It devastated her because she and her friends had noticed that I had become more present and peaceful lately, despite never telling her about therapy or meditation.

I continued meditating almost daily for a long time.

I meal prepped.

I started exercising.

Oddly enough, I also started paying attention to my body, noticing where emotions and tension physically lived inside me.

About six months later, I had become someone I liked a lot more.

I lost over 40 pounds. I drank far less and even went through seasons completely alcohol-free.

Eventually, I started dating the woman who would become my wife.

Most importantly, she reintroduced me to God, which added rocket fuel to my healing journey. I truly don’t believe I would be whole or well without Him.

Ironically, all she had to do was invite me to church at exactly the right time. Going to church was nowhere near my priority list. She could have suggested almost anything else and I probably would have been more enthusiastic.

Thank God she didn’t.

That one small step started a much longer journey.

It took years to mature into wholeness and health. I’ve spent a long time in therapy, including EMDR after some particularly disturbing nightmares. I’ve worked through childhood wounds. I’ve forgiven people. I’ve stopped repeating unhealthy patterns in relationships.

It’s been a long road, and I’m still far from having it all figured out.

My hope in sharing this story during EMS Week is simple:

That maybe it helps someone else take one small step.

This isn’t a call to completely overhaul your life overnight. The world probably won’t suddenly brighten tomorrow morning. Your feelings may take time to catch up with reality.

That’s okay.

Healing often starts quietly.

One conversation.
One workout.
One prayer.
One therapy session.
One breath.
One honest moment.

You’re worth that effort.

You have value.

You have a positive impact in your community.

This journey takes bravery. Real bravery.

I’m proud of you. Now go take that next right, best, imperfect step toward you.