The past few weeks have been filled with great opportunities. After spending some time sitting in a friend's garden, I write this after catching the afternoon rays, sipping a delightful red. It's been a day of study and learning. I'm taking time out from what has been a hectic few months of work, planning, organising, and generally focusing on strategies to grow my business. I can say that I love what I do; I wouldn't go back to what I did before.

But it wasn't always like this. A little over a decade ago, I couldn't even dream of being in the position I'm in now. It's when I hit my low point.

I'd landed myself a senior role with a US adtech company that was expanding into the UK. They were leagues ahead of everyone in the market at the time. I was one of a group of four people to start in their London office, and on paper, it was a fantastic company and a brilliant opportunity to further my career.

But soon after starting, something was off, not necessarily with the company but with me. I felt out of place. I didn't feel like I belonged. Don't get me wrong, I was wanted in the business, but try as I might, I couldn't shake the feeling of being out of my depth. I remember spending a couple of weeks training at the company's head office. I'd diligently researched the business, its history, the key people, its origins, and just about anything that would enable me to make a great impression. But, when I arrived, I was introduced to the CEO - and I drew a blank. I didn't recognise them or recall their name. That should have been a red flag.

Right after the introductions and just as I'd started the presentation, I went blank…

As the company grew and began to take on new employees, I was given additional responsibilities, and this should have been right up my street.

I'd had built and managed teams in previous roles, so this was not anything beyond my capabilities; however, I found myself struggling. In my attempts to keep on top of things, I'd come into the office earlier, leave later than everyone else, take on even more responsibility and work, but I couldn't keep up. Mistakes began to creep in. Small ones at first, easily rectified, but they continued and became more frequent. I would spot something and correct it only to find that the effort created another issue with far more significant implications. I couldn't understand why everyone else around me was getting it, and I wasn't. I questioned every aspect of my ability, constantly compared myself with my colleagues, and inevitably found myself coming up short. There was a time when I was in an important meeting with my boss, presenting to a client. Right after the introductions and just as I'd started the presentation, I went blank - I couldn't find any words. Nothing would come out of my mouth. Thankfully my boss recovered the situation and was able to carry on the discussion, but I didn't say a single word for the rest of the meeting.

My home life wasn't any better. My son was in preschool at the time. With all the hours I spent in the office, I was neglecting my responsibilities as a father. Yes, I was there, but I wasn't truly present. I would be concerned with issues at work or home life. I was thinking incessantly, over-analysing every little minutia of detail, and the thoughts wouldn't switch off. I felt as if I was drowning, whilst at the same time suffocating with a plastic bag over my head, with someone sitting on my chest.

I was constantly feeling tired. I was surviving on 3-4 hours of sleep a night. My sleep patterns were all over the place. Fear and stress racked my days. I would go into the office pained with the guilt of an imagined or actual error, omission or infraction. I couldn't wait to leave the office and rest, but I wouldn't want to sleep because I knew I'd only have to get up and repeat the same things - Groundhog Day in hell.

Then one day, what I had suspected for a while happened - I was fired. Of course, I had been expecting it, but that didn't make it any easier to accept. In my mind, I was a failure - unemployable and no good for anyone or anything.

My world was going to shit, and there seemed to be nothing I could do to change it.

Not long after that, my relationship imploded, and my partner walked out with our son. It was acrimonious and bitter. I'd never suspected that would happen, so when it did, it tore me to pieces. The thought of not being able to see my son broke me.

My world was going to shit, and there seemed to be nothing I could do to change it. I wouldn't take action on anything because, in my mind, I'd already proved that to do so would only result in shit, so why bother? With inaction came shit. I was caught in a nightmarish Catch 22, and there seemed no way out.

The lowest point wasn't when I was evicted, losing my home and vehicles.

It wasn't when I had to put all of my things into storage and find a floor on which to sleep.

The lowest point came when I was evicted from the storage unit and had to find a new one. I was given 24 hours to get everything out. I managed to find a van, but it wasn't large enough to fit everything in it, so I had to start throwing things away. It was one of the most painful processes I've been through.

My thoughts were constantly full of dread. I didn't want to go on. I wasn't any use to anyone, let alone myself, so it would be better to end it all. I couldn't cope. I thought about how I would do it. A bullet was quick and easy. I knew how to use a gun from my days in the CCF at school. But I didn't know anyone who could get one, and it's not the easiest thing to slip into conversation. " Hey mate, do you know where I can get a gun?" Even if I could get one, I'd seen a documentary in which someone had survived a suicide attempt by gunshot. I'd pretty much messed up my life, and I wasn't about to mess this up as well. Pills and wrist slashing didn't appeal as I couldn't see the point in ingesting so many tablets with little to no nutritional value. (Did I not mention I have what may be considered a warped sense of thinking and humour?). Jumping in front of a train was also off the cards as it didn't feel sure enough - I wasn't up for feeling any pain. And I wasn't about to go and string myself up as I didn't want to flail about all over the place waiting to die. Plus, it seemed as if it would take too long. I'd have a hard job getting out of that one if I changed my mind mid throttle.

So I was left with jumping off a high structure. I'm not great with heights at the best of times. If I'm strapped to a building abseiling down it, I'm fine. Ask me to walk to the edge of a cliff without a safety rope, and three things come to mind - being pushed off, losing my footing, or just jumping off to find out how much it would hurt. I figured I'd need to be drunk to jump off anything - that way, and I'd probably not feel anything. But do I get drunk, climb, and then jump, or climb, get drunk, and then jump. The next question that came to mind was how high I would have to be for the jump to have the desired result?

The radio towers at Crystal Palace felt like the perfect height, so that's where I would go. During all of this time, you may be wondering where were my family and friends? The simple answer is that I withdrew. When you feel so worthless that your life is less than the piece of shit on someone's shoe, the last thing you want to do is make everyone else's life a misery and be a burden. So I became adept at hiding my true feelings. I'd put on a brave face. I was a very private person then, so it was easy to tell people everything was fine and for them not to pry any more profound. In the end, the thing that stopped me from taking my own life was the thought of my family and friends but mainly, my son.

How would he cope? What would he think of me? What effect would it have on his life?

I couldn't bear the thought of him growing up without me and me not seeing him grow into the fine, upstanding, incredible person I felt he would become. So I did whatever I could to change the way I viewed my world. I meditated. I read extensively on psychology and the working of the mind. During this period, I came across a book on NLP. I didn't think that much of it except for the last chapter. It discussed anxiety and depression.

I am responsible

As I read, I slowly came to recognise myself and my situation in the words I was digesting. It was like a flashlight being turned on in a space that previously contained zero light. I began to understand what I was going through. Around the same time, I was given a quote. " I am responsible. I am not entitled. I will always pay." I understood what was meant, but it was the first sentence that truly resonated with me - "I am responsible." For me, it meant that if I was the cause of my current situation, I could also be the cause of my redemption.

I started to look for work, keeping a low profile and going for roles that would ask too much of me. In most of them, I didn't last long - 6 -18 months tops. Each time I would leave a position, either by quitting or being asked to do so. When I did, a little voice would whisper, " Do the massage." I would retort - "I need money now. How will I survive?" So I'd go and get another job, and the process would repeat.

One day, after going through the process again, I asked myself the question - "Can you do the work you're doing now for the next five years?" the answer came back as an emphatic "NO!" I was about to ask, "What about the next year?" but I was interrupted with a sterner, unequivocal "NO!". "Ok, then," I said, "what are we going to do?". The answer I got back floored me. "Don't worry; we'll figure it out."

For the past five years, I've been doing precisely that. Learning, failing, trying new things, asking questions of myself and others, and every time discovering something new about myself and how I see the world and those around me. I learned about thinking and how it influences our outlook. As a result, I've become more adaptable, become open to criticism without taking it personally, and got to understand what makes me and others tick. I've been fascinated by the mind/body connection for most of my life. When I was much younger, I distinctly remember making myself ill just by thinking about it.

I now work with high-performers and achievers and those becoming so. From paramedics to private bankers to entrepreneurs, I'm helping them not just with their bodies but also with their minds, helping them achieve and surpass their goals.

I love what I do as I see the moments of insight and the transformation that occurs when someone is given the support and space to embody their true self.

I'm still growing and learning. I love the process. I'm very grateful to have the support of my family and friends - I couldn't have got through all of this without them. I write this as a "look at me; look what I've done." For me, it's a call for those of you reading this that may have been or are in a dark place. During this past year, many of us have found the isolation challenging to bear. Would you please do whatever you can to get the help you need? There is someone out there that can help you. Watch for signs in others that they may be struggling. It may not be easy for them to ask for the help they need.

Thank you for taking the time to read this. Here's to your health and success.

Joseph