When BBC South West reached out, I almost said no. Here's why I said yes — and what it felt like to share the rawest parts of my story on national television.
The email came on a Tuesday morning. A producer from BBC South West had seen something I'd posted online — I can't even remember what — and wanted to talk about doing a piece on burnout and recovery. Would I be interested?
My first instinct was no. Not because I was afraid of the camera. I've spoken on stages. I've sat in rooms with CEOs and told them things they didn't want to hear. The camera wasn't the problem.
The problem was the specificity of what they wanted. They didn't want a talking head expert. They wanted the story. The addiction. The collapse. The kitchen floor. The 200 steps. They wanted the parts I had shared with small groups of people in rooms where I knew everyone's name.
Sharing that with the whole of the South West felt different.
I sat with it for a week. I talked to people I trust. And eventually I came back to the same question I always come back to when I'm afraid of something: who does it serve if I stay quiet?
Because here's the thing about shame — it thrives in silence. Every time someone with a public platform says 'this happened to me and I survived it,' someone else in a private darkness feels slightly less alone. That's not a small thing. That's everything.
So I said yes.
The filming was two days. They came to Cornwall. We walked the coastal path — of course we walked — and I talked. About the drinking. About the burnout. About the morning I decided to move. About Street Therapy and what it's become.
When it aired, I watched it with my phone face down. I couldn't look at the messages coming in. When I finally turned it over, there were hundreds of them. Men, mostly. Saying: that's me. Saying: I didn't know anyone else felt like that. Saying: I'm going to go for a walk tomorrow.
That's why I said yes. That's why I'll keep saying yes.
The story isn't mine to keep.